Chapter 9
Now deep in the forest of Wormwood, four mages found themselves exhausted and dehydrated.
From thin air, Tobias conjured three flasks, passing them around to his fellow magicians. They drank sparringly, though they knew any one of them could just conjure more water if they ran out. Still, it was better to play safe; magic required energy, and a dehydrated mage was a dead one.
Bane handed his flask to Longfang, whom Tobias had conveniently forgotten while producing the precious water. Longfang drank, spat, and took another gulp.
"Way to go," said Tobias, the disgust in his voice emminent. "You just wasted a mouthful of water."
Panzer looked at the elf with amusement in his eyes. "I'm sorry. Once I get my Channel back, I'll repay you twofold."
Tobias lunged forward, but Alyson--who had been recuperated by Bane--held him back.
"Relax, Tobias," she said soothingly.
Gritting his teeth, the elf slackened his muscles, and Alyson took her cue to let go.
"Enough of this, Tobias," Bane ordered. "We have more important things that you can waste energy on, so save it for now."
Reluctantly, Tobias replied, "Yes, sir."
Bane turned to continue moving when something bounded past him, causing him to jump back. That something rounded about, rearing up and kicking its hooved legs. Bane, Tobias and Alyson pulled out their Channels defensively as the creature stamped on the ground.
It, or he, had sapphire eyes. A mop of long, black hair framed his squarish, bearded face. His naked torso was that of a human male, and was broad, sloping down towards his lean abs. His muscular arms were crossed proudly across his hairy chest.
Of course, that did not seem at all strange. What was strange was that this rather handsome man's upper body was attached to a tanned horse's body, hooves, tail and all. Bane knew instantly what this creature was.
He was a centaur.
"What do you want?" Bane asked, his finger tight around the trigger.
"I should be asking you that, human," rumbled the centaur.
Bane lowered his weapons, taking a step forward. The centaur watched him warily.
"He sure has a thing for trusting people today," Alyson muttered to Tobias.
The elf shrugged. "Maybe we're still in that wisp."
Then they both shushed; Bane had spoken. "My name is Justin Bane. That's Alyson Reed. The elf's called Tobias Bolt, and the rugged-looking man's Panzer Longfang."
He was being completely honest. He had to be; centaurs had a knack for recognising and disposing of liars. And there was no way he wanted to be part of a centaur's Burning Ritual, their annual sacrifice to the Forest Spirits.
The centaur seemed extremely wary of them, and when he spoke he did so with much caution in his voice. "My name is Blitzon, from the Nothern Tribe. You are in our territory."
"I'm sorry," said Bane, slowly. He wracked his brains, deciding to take a gamble. "We're looking for a group of lost children. There has been deaths recently. Have you seen or heard anything?"
"Are you accusing me of something?" demanded Blitzon, scratching the dirt with his hoof.
Bane took a step back, lowering his body. "No, I wouldn't dare. But it is important, if you know anything, that you tell me about any suspiscious happenings in this forest of late."
Blitzon was silent, and Bane knew the centaur was wondering if he could trust them. Finally, he relented, saying, "Recently, another human has been passing in and out of the Solem Barrier. She had children with her. We have tried to drive her out, but..."
And suddenly Bane understood. They had lost to a human being, and a woman at that. It was a disgrace to their tribe, and they probably grew more careful after the confrontation.
"A woman, you say?"
Nodding, Blitzon said, "A blond-haired one. Her prowess over the magical arts are extensive, to the point that she doesn't even require an external Channel, like you possess."
Bane, Alyson and Tobias gasped in unison. A mage with no Channel taking down a band of centaurs? How in the magical world was that possible?
"I warn you, human," Blitzon continued, his gaze intense, his voice low. "Do not attempt to go after this woman. For if you do, you would most surely die."
And with that, the centaur galloped off, disappearing through the foliage.
Bane turned, his eyes meeting Alyson's, then Tobias'.
"Did you guys hear that?" Bane asked, his mind numb.
Both Alyson and Tobias nodded. The former said, "Looks like Longfang is innocent, and our problems just got a lot worse."
Monday, February 18, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Framed
Chapter 8
High above a towering building, at the top floor, a large man sat in a tall armchair. His dark, shaved head seemed to glimmer in the dim light of his office, and his muscles rippled beneath his coat. He looked out of his one-way window, a mirthless smile etched on his face.
The computer on his desk, which had been on screensaver mode for quite some time, lit up with a beep. The man swivelled his seat about calmly, his gaze falling upon the screen. Upon seeing its contents, he smiled, and returned to the window.
"I'll make you pay," he said, his voice a rumbling bass tone. "I'll make you pay for breaking in."
The man reached beneath his coat, retrieving a fat cigar. Placing it in his mouth, he held up his free hand.
A small tongue of fire ignited in his open palm, which he brought towards the cigar. He inhaled deeply, then blew out a puff of smoke, still smiling.
Then, as he pondered about the events that were about to take place, he broke into low, frightening laughter.
*** *** ***
The Hunter had fallen into a half-sleep in the tent he had conjured up. It was all an illusion--the luxurious bed, the soft pillow, and the warm covers--but an illusion that fooled the mind into thinking the body was living in comfort; an illusion the Hunter did not mind falling into.
Dreams came and went, foggy in the Hunter's mind. They woke him up, along with the sounds of the woods. But slowly, his eyes would flutter, and he would be asleep again. It was an annoying cycle, but one that would keep him alive.
He could not remember when was the last time he had had a sound sleep. Now, he could not afford such a pleasure: alertness was the key to his survival.
When the Hunter fell asleep, the homely illusion would be shut off--another safety mechanism of the spell, lest he completely drifted off. However, this time, it did not.
And so the Shadow Hunter fell, for the first time in years, into a deep sleep...
*** *** ***
Something woke him up. The crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves perhaps? How long had he been asleep?
Immediately, he reached for Cerberes, rendering himself invisible. He exited his illusionary tent cautiously.
A blast from nowhere, too sudden for the Hunter to respond to, brought him to his knees. He found himself bound by a thick, glowing rope. Another blast, and he felt something coiling around his neck.
Mages and wizards, many of them. They could see and target him, which meant most of them were advanced spellcasters.
No longer focused, the Hunter's invisibility spell wore off. He groped whatever was suffocating him, trying to pry it off him, but a third blast threw his hands above his head, completely immobilising him.
As his consciousness began to waver, the Hunter saw a familiar face emerging from the darkness. But the face became unclear, shrouded in a growing mist.
He was falling faster and faster into a deep abyss...but, no, he couldn't. He couldn't stop now...
"CERBERES!" he managed to choke.
The enchanted blade emitted a powerful glow, bursting forth from its sheath and spinning wildly. The light that emanated from it flew in several directions, exploding into the enemy mages and the Hunter's binds.
Free, the Shadow Hunter took a moment to breathe and regain his full consciousness. Then he sprang to his feet, grabbed hold of Cerberes, and was gone in an instant.
One of the mages who had been thrown back by Cerberes' attack cried, "He's gotten away!"
The other wizards rose to stand, brushing off the dust on their cloaks and coats. The man known as Greg said, "What now, sir?"
Jonah Elisior sighed wearily. "He's sure to lay low after this. Return to the Circle and continue tracking him."
Ten mages teleported, leaving behind ten puffs of smoke and dust.
High above a towering building, at the top floor, a large man sat in a tall armchair. His dark, shaved head seemed to glimmer in the dim light of his office, and his muscles rippled beneath his coat. He looked out of his one-way window, a mirthless smile etched on his face.
The computer on his desk, which had been on screensaver mode for quite some time, lit up with a beep. The man swivelled his seat about calmly, his gaze falling upon the screen. Upon seeing its contents, he smiled, and returned to the window.
"I'll make you pay," he said, his voice a rumbling bass tone. "I'll make you pay for breaking in."
The man reached beneath his coat, retrieving a fat cigar. Placing it in his mouth, he held up his free hand.
A small tongue of fire ignited in his open palm, which he brought towards the cigar. He inhaled deeply, then blew out a puff of smoke, still smiling.
Then, as he pondered about the events that were about to take place, he broke into low, frightening laughter.
*** *** ***
The Hunter had fallen into a half-sleep in the tent he had conjured up. It was all an illusion--the luxurious bed, the soft pillow, and the warm covers--but an illusion that fooled the mind into thinking the body was living in comfort; an illusion the Hunter did not mind falling into.
Dreams came and went, foggy in the Hunter's mind. They woke him up, along with the sounds of the woods. But slowly, his eyes would flutter, and he would be asleep again. It was an annoying cycle, but one that would keep him alive.
He could not remember when was the last time he had had a sound sleep. Now, he could not afford such a pleasure: alertness was the key to his survival.
When the Hunter fell asleep, the homely illusion would be shut off--another safety mechanism of the spell, lest he completely drifted off. However, this time, it did not.
And so the Shadow Hunter fell, for the first time in years, into a deep sleep...
*** *** ***
Something woke him up. The crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves perhaps? How long had he been asleep?
Immediately, he reached for Cerberes, rendering himself invisible. He exited his illusionary tent cautiously.
A blast from nowhere, too sudden for the Hunter to respond to, brought him to his knees. He found himself bound by a thick, glowing rope. Another blast, and he felt something coiling around his neck.
Mages and wizards, many of them. They could see and target him, which meant most of them were advanced spellcasters.
No longer focused, the Hunter's invisibility spell wore off. He groped whatever was suffocating him, trying to pry it off him, but a third blast threw his hands above his head, completely immobilising him.
As his consciousness began to waver, the Hunter saw a familiar face emerging from the darkness. But the face became unclear, shrouded in a growing mist.
He was falling faster and faster into a deep abyss...but, no, he couldn't. He couldn't stop now...
"CERBERES!" he managed to choke.
The enchanted blade emitted a powerful glow, bursting forth from its sheath and spinning wildly. The light that emanated from it flew in several directions, exploding into the enemy mages and the Hunter's binds.
Free, the Shadow Hunter took a moment to breathe and regain his full consciousness. Then he sprang to his feet, grabbed hold of Cerberes, and was gone in an instant.
One of the mages who had been thrown back by Cerberes' attack cried, "He's gotten away!"
The other wizards rose to stand, brushing off the dust on their cloaks and coats. The man known as Greg said, "What now, sir?"
Jonah Elisior sighed wearily. "He's sure to lay low after this. Return to the Circle and continue tracking him."
Ten mages teleported, leaving behind ten puffs of smoke and dust.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Life Story
Chapter 7
The computer beeped, and a man slouching on a chair sat up. He clicked on an incoming message, which opened into a web video. The man, whose sharp nose was hooked like a beak, turned to his colleague.
"Hey, Greg. Take a look at this."
Greg, a thin man with crew-cut black hair, wheeled his chair towards his friend's screen, as the latter replayed the video. They both stared at it, frowning.
It showed a towering, hexagon building set against the starless night sky. As they watched, the video proved uneventful at first, but as it hit fifty seconds, there was a flash of blue. Then a shape had crashed out of one of the windows, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
"Whaddya' think?" said the man who had received the video.
"Who's it from?" Greg asked.
"Lemme check." The man typed something, then pulled out a ovular thumbdrive. He attached the device into his CPU, activating a magical link between the computer and his own mind. He closed his eyes.
A second later, he opened them. "I've got nothing. Whoever sent it doesn't want to be traced: I'm being Spellbound."
Greg watched the video again, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"See that," he said, pausing the video at the point where the shape had burst out from the building. "See that tiny grey spot there? Window Guy here can teleport in mid-air."
Teleportation usually required great concentration, especially for lower-end mages. For an inexperienced (and sometimes, even experienced) mage to teleport while falling meant two things: he would either end up somewhere completely unexpected, or he would remain where he was.
"That's high-level man...unless..."
"Yep," Greg said with a nod. "Chaos Magic."
*** *** ***
The Shadow Hunter stood from his resting place. He was in the middle of a far-flung forest, safe from the prying eyes of both humans and mages. He had cast protective spells over his campsite, and was now eating stolen bread.
The Hunter pulled out his cellphone, an ancient model, but no doubt the most modern thing he had with him. No one knew his number, but it helped him keep track of time.
March 11, 2010. Two years had passed since he left the Silent Circle of Magic. Two long and eventful years. He had accomplished so much, and yet, nothing at all.
He used to have a name, a name well-recognised in the Circle. He used to have a great reputation as a mage, and a promising future. He was even about to get married to a beautiful brunette who--despite not being a mage--knew all about the magical realm and its secrets.
Everything changed one fateful, moonless night.
His name was Ian McKane, but everyone knew him as the Reaper, for he carried a scythe as his Channel. Insanity could not be used to describe him, for he had well surpassed that.
The Shadow Hunter, who then had not adopted the pseudonym, was having dinner with the girl of his dreams when his phone rang. It was call from the Circle, warning him that the Reaper was in his vincinity. The Hunter had insisted that he sent his girlfriend home, but they encountered him nonetheless.
Scythe and katana clashed in a heated battle of magic and blades, and a stray spell ricochetted off the alley walls, colliding into the Hunter's belle as she hid behind a trashbin.
The Hunter screamed as his fiance fell to the ground, her eyes wide open, but void of life. His rage was converted into raw power, and that night he killed the Reaper, but he himself would forever be changed.
He left the Circle to roam as a vigilante, knowing he would never regain the broken pieces of his life and humanity. Knowing he would never hope or love again.
Without lowering his hood, the Shadow Hunter cried. No one was looking or listening, so he cried his heart out...
*** *** ***
"Magnify and scan further," ordered the Chief Sorter, Elder Jonah Elisior.
The man did as he was told. The picture--a screenshot of the anonymous web video--was already a thousand times magnified, and on an ordinary computer could go no further. But this was no ordinary computer.
Even when two thousand times magnified, the picture remained blurred and unclear. Elisior took over, magnifying it to three thousand.
Finally, they got it. The picture revealed a rugged face Elisior immediately recognised.
"Cabal Strider," breathed the Elder. "Where is he now?"
"I've tracked him. He uses magic like I drink whiskey," said a mage.
Elisior sighed inwardly, murmuring, "Why did you turn to the dark side, Strider?"
The computer beeped, and a man slouching on a chair sat up. He clicked on an incoming message, which opened into a web video. The man, whose sharp nose was hooked like a beak, turned to his colleague.
"Hey, Greg. Take a look at this."
Greg, a thin man with crew-cut black hair, wheeled his chair towards his friend's screen, as the latter replayed the video. They both stared at it, frowning.
It showed a towering, hexagon building set against the starless night sky. As they watched, the video proved uneventful at first, but as it hit fifty seconds, there was a flash of blue. Then a shape had crashed out of one of the windows, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
"Whaddya' think?" said the man who had received the video.
"Who's it from?" Greg asked.
"Lemme check." The man typed something, then pulled out a ovular thumbdrive. He attached the device into his CPU, activating a magical link between the computer and his own mind. He closed his eyes.
A second later, he opened them. "I've got nothing. Whoever sent it doesn't want to be traced: I'm being Spellbound."
Greg watched the video again, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"See that," he said, pausing the video at the point where the shape had burst out from the building. "See that tiny grey spot there? Window Guy here can teleport in mid-air."
Teleportation usually required great concentration, especially for lower-end mages. For an inexperienced (and sometimes, even experienced) mage to teleport while falling meant two things: he would either end up somewhere completely unexpected, or he would remain where he was.
"That's high-level man...unless..."
"Yep," Greg said with a nod. "Chaos Magic."
*** *** ***
The Shadow Hunter stood from his resting place. He was in the middle of a far-flung forest, safe from the prying eyes of both humans and mages. He had cast protective spells over his campsite, and was now eating stolen bread.
The Hunter pulled out his cellphone, an ancient model, but no doubt the most modern thing he had with him. No one knew his number, but it helped him keep track of time.
March 11, 2010. Two years had passed since he left the Silent Circle of Magic. Two long and eventful years. He had accomplished so much, and yet, nothing at all.
He used to have a name, a name well-recognised in the Circle. He used to have a great reputation as a mage, and a promising future. He was even about to get married to a beautiful brunette who--despite not being a mage--knew all about the magical realm and its secrets.
Everything changed one fateful, moonless night.
His name was Ian McKane, but everyone knew him as the Reaper, for he carried a scythe as his Channel. Insanity could not be used to describe him, for he had well surpassed that.
The Shadow Hunter, who then had not adopted the pseudonym, was having dinner with the girl of his dreams when his phone rang. It was call from the Circle, warning him that the Reaper was in his vincinity. The Hunter had insisted that he sent his girlfriend home, but they encountered him nonetheless.
Scythe and katana clashed in a heated battle of magic and blades, and a stray spell ricochetted off the alley walls, colliding into the Hunter's belle as she hid behind a trashbin.
The Hunter screamed as his fiance fell to the ground, her eyes wide open, but void of life. His rage was converted into raw power, and that night he killed the Reaper, but he himself would forever be changed.
He left the Circle to roam as a vigilante, knowing he would never regain the broken pieces of his life and humanity. Knowing he would never hope or love again.
Without lowering his hood, the Shadow Hunter cried. No one was looking or listening, so he cried his heart out...
*** *** ***
"Magnify and scan further," ordered the Chief Sorter, Elder Jonah Elisior.
The man did as he was told. The picture--a screenshot of the anonymous web video--was already a thousand times magnified, and on an ordinary computer could go no further. But this was no ordinary computer.
Even when two thousand times magnified, the picture remained blurred and unclear. Elisior took over, magnifying it to three thousand.
Finally, they got it. The picture revealed a rugged face Elisior immediately recognised.
"Cabal Strider," breathed the Elder. "Where is he now?"
"I've tracked him. He uses magic like I drink whiskey," said a mage.
Elisior sighed inwardly, murmuring, "Why did you turn to the dark side, Strider?"
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
The Wanted Man
Chapter 6
The panther circled, its yellow eyes locked intently on the trio. It bared its fangs, growling a low, threatening growl.
"You sure this is Longfang's Channel?" said Alyson in a hushed voice. Her gaze frequently shifted from Mach's screen to the large cat which had tried to kill her.
"Hell I am," Bane confirmed. He knew Alyson was trying to dig up Panzer Longfang's file using Mach's magical connections to every wizard's computer in the world.
Mach beeped, signalling Alyson's search had just bore results. At that instant, the panther leapt forward.
Instinct kicked in, and Bane raised his gun. He jammed on the trigger; out of the nozzle flew a net weaved from silver thread. The net wrapped itself around the panther in mid-air, impeding it and throwing it to the soil.
The panther roared its contempt, scratching at the seemingly unbreakable, magic net.
Then, a purple aura covered the creature's body. The aura contorted into a ball, expanding, stretching the net to its seams. With a snap, the net burst apart, its pieces disappearing into wisps of light.
The panther recovered as soon as its hold had been broken. It roared, then produced a golden horn from the middle of its forehead. It charged fiercely, aiming for Bane.
The veteran mage countered with a gunshot to the earth, from which shot forth thin, threadlike vines that whipped around the panther.
However, this time, the beast was ready. Its physical form faded away, disappearing into the wind like dust. Then, from behind, it leapt at Bane.
Tobias acted swiftly. He flung out his staff, suspending the demon cat in mid-air. It growled contemptuously, scratching at nothing.
Stepping back, the three mages formed a circle around the panther, scruinizing it.
"It's amazing how an animal can be a Channel..." said Alyson, her voice distant with wonderment.
"He's no animal," a mellow voice said.
Everyone whipped around; out of the foliage and greenery stepped a balding man with blond hair and a rough beard. His face bore telltale lines that ran down to his nose. His sapphire eyes were extremely striking, and seemed to sparkle compared to the rest of his body. He wore a brown overcoat and faded khaki pants.
Bane recognised him immediately, for he had seen his face several times on 'wanted' posters in the Circle.
Panzer Longfang.
Very calmly, as if this were an everyday happening for him, he said to the entrapped panther, "Get down from there, Scarface."
The panther named Scarface laughed, a laugh which startled Alyson and Tobias. Bane would have jumped too, but he hadn't noticed. His senses were fixed solely on the criminal wizard before him.
As Bane stared daggers at Longfang, his hands tightening around his Desert Eagles, Scarface said in an icy, drawling voice, "Fools. They don't know who they're messing with."
Then the panther dropped to the ground on all fours, though Tobias was certain he was still holding him with his spell. The beast stared at him, then its mouth curled into a misshapen smile.
"Your lousy spells can't hold me, elf!" he sneered, then stalked to his master's side.
"I'm sorry for his rudeness," said Panzer, still with an air of nonchalance and calm. "You know how demons are, always talking as if they knew everything."
Scarface growled.
Before anyone could say or do anything else, Bane had whipped out a gun, pointing it straight at Panzer Longfang's head. His eyes were aflame.
Panzer just smiled. "What are you gonna do? Shoot me?"
Bane gritted his teeth. "Try me."
From out of nowhere, Bane felt a sudden pain in his gut. He felt the wind knocked out of him, and he tumbled backwards with groan. There was rapid movement.
Tobias had drawn an arc with his staff, and Alyson had jumped several feet away, typing furiously on Mach. Before Tobias' spell could take effect, Scarface's blurred shape had disarmed him. Then, suddenly, the whole forest was engulfed by complete darkness.
There was eerie silence. Then...
"Welcome to my world," boomed Alyson's voice. Bane closed his eyes; opening them would make little difference. He would let Alyson take over from here.
"Light is nothing to me...darkness fails to scare me..." came Panzer's voice, hollow and echoing. He said those words over and over again for several, gruelling seconds.
Alyson screamed, and the light was restored.
She fell, but Bane caught her just before she hit the ground. She struggled to speak, "He...countered... Used...dark magic..."
"I'm terribly sorry, but you forced my hand," said Panzer, his smile replaced by a frown. "You are mistaken about me. I didn't kill those kids..."
"Then how do you know about them?" snapped Bane. He did not notice, but Tobias had produced an energy blade.
Panzer said slowly, "I'm a drifter, and I hear things. Now, I'm just looking for my son."
"Liar," snarled Tobias, his blade positioned to kill. "You don't have a son. If you did the files would have said so."
Scarface countered, "Please. You think those Sorters of yours know everything?"
Sorters were members of the Circle who collected data on wizards all around the world, storing them in computers connected to the magical realm. Alyson was a Sorter.
"Look. Eight years ago I gave my son to one of the villagers. I was a wanted man, and I knew I could not risk taking him with me while I was on the run," said Panzer, his voice now possessing a tinge of grief. "He should have never been born...but his mother was so beautiful..."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," said Bane, not caring one bit.
"Because...I can help you. I can help you find those kids."
"I don't trust him, Bane," Tobias said, his eyes still locked on Panzer.
Scarface growled, "Let's just kill them, Panzer. It'll be quick..."
"No!" said Longfang. He pulled out a white, transparent orb and flashed it at his demon panther. "Desist, Scarface!"
With a disapproving roar, Scarface was sucked into the orb. His body broke up into feathery bits of black hair, disappearing into the orb, which now glowed purple.
"Here, if you don't trust me, you can keep Scarface," Panzer said, holding out the orb.
Bane propped Alyson up on a nearby rock, walking towards the Chaos mage's outstretched arm.
"Bane, it might be a trap," warned Tobias, but Bane shrugged his words off.
Taking the Summoning Sphere from Panzer Longfang, he stowed it in his pocket, where he could feel its soft warmth radiating through his coat and shirt.
"Besides," smiled Panzer, "a Channel is merely a tool. True magic lies in here."
He gestured to his heart.
The panther circled, its yellow eyes locked intently on the trio. It bared its fangs, growling a low, threatening growl.
"You sure this is Longfang's Channel?" said Alyson in a hushed voice. Her gaze frequently shifted from Mach's screen to the large cat which had tried to kill her.
"Hell I am," Bane confirmed. He knew Alyson was trying to dig up Panzer Longfang's file using Mach's magical connections to every wizard's computer in the world.
Mach beeped, signalling Alyson's search had just bore results. At that instant, the panther leapt forward.
Instinct kicked in, and Bane raised his gun. He jammed on the trigger; out of the nozzle flew a net weaved from silver thread. The net wrapped itself around the panther in mid-air, impeding it and throwing it to the soil.
The panther roared its contempt, scratching at the seemingly unbreakable, magic net.
Then, a purple aura covered the creature's body. The aura contorted into a ball, expanding, stretching the net to its seams. With a snap, the net burst apart, its pieces disappearing into wisps of light.
The panther recovered as soon as its hold had been broken. It roared, then produced a golden horn from the middle of its forehead. It charged fiercely, aiming for Bane.
The veteran mage countered with a gunshot to the earth, from which shot forth thin, threadlike vines that whipped around the panther.
However, this time, the beast was ready. Its physical form faded away, disappearing into the wind like dust. Then, from behind, it leapt at Bane.
Tobias acted swiftly. He flung out his staff, suspending the demon cat in mid-air. It growled contemptuously, scratching at nothing.
Stepping back, the three mages formed a circle around the panther, scruinizing it.
"It's amazing how an animal can be a Channel..." said Alyson, her voice distant with wonderment.
"He's no animal," a mellow voice said.
Everyone whipped around; out of the foliage and greenery stepped a balding man with blond hair and a rough beard. His face bore telltale lines that ran down to his nose. His sapphire eyes were extremely striking, and seemed to sparkle compared to the rest of his body. He wore a brown overcoat and faded khaki pants.
Bane recognised him immediately, for he had seen his face several times on 'wanted' posters in the Circle.
Panzer Longfang.
Very calmly, as if this were an everyday happening for him, he said to the entrapped panther, "Get down from there, Scarface."
The panther named Scarface laughed, a laugh which startled Alyson and Tobias. Bane would have jumped too, but he hadn't noticed. His senses were fixed solely on the criminal wizard before him.
As Bane stared daggers at Longfang, his hands tightening around his Desert Eagles, Scarface said in an icy, drawling voice, "Fools. They don't know who they're messing with."
Then the panther dropped to the ground on all fours, though Tobias was certain he was still holding him with his spell. The beast stared at him, then its mouth curled into a misshapen smile.
"Your lousy spells can't hold me, elf!" he sneered, then stalked to his master's side.
"I'm sorry for his rudeness," said Panzer, still with an air of nonchalance and calm. "You know how demons are, always talking as if they knew everything."
Scarface growled.
Before anyone could say or do anything else, Bane had whipped out a gun, pointing it straight at Panzer Longfang's head. His eyes were aflame.
Panzer just smiled. "What are you gonna do? Shoot me?"
Bane gritted his teeth. "Try me."
From out of nowhere, Bane felt a sudden pain in his gut. He felt the wind knocked out of him, and he tumbled backwards with groan. There was rapid movement.
Tobias had drawn an arc with his staff, and Alyson had jumped several feet away, typing furiously on Mach. Before Tobias' spell could take effect, Scarface's blurred shape had disarmed him. Then, suddenly, the whole forest was engulfed by complete darkness.
There was eerie silence. Then...
"Welcome to my world," boomed Alyson's voice. Bane closed his eyes; opening them would make little difference. He would let Alyson take over from here.
"Light is nothing to me...darkness fails to scare me..." came Panzer's voice, hollow and echoing. He said those words over and over again for several, gruelling seconds.
Alyson screamed, and the light was restored.
She fell, but Bane caught her just before she hit the ground. She struggled to speak, "He...countered... Used...dark magic..."
"I'm terribly sorry, but you forced my hand," said Panzer, his smile replaced by a frown. "You are mistaken about me. I didn't kill those kids..."
"Then how do you know about them?" snapped Bane. He did not notice, but Tobias had produced an energy blade.
Panzer said slowly, "I'm a drifter, and I hear things. Now, I'm just looking for my son."
"Liar," snarled Tobias, his blade positioned to kill. "You don't have a son. If you did the files would have said so."
Scarface countered, "Please. You think those Sorters of yours know everything?"
Sorters were members of the Circle who collected data on wizards all around the world, storing them in computers connected to the magical realm. Alyson was a Sorter.
"Look. Eight years ago I gave my son to one of the villagers. I was a wanted man, and I knew I could not risk taking him with me while I was on the run," said Panzer, his voice now possessing a tinge of grief. "He should have never been born...but his mother was so beautiful..."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," said Bane, not caring one bit.
"Because...I can help you. I can help you find those kids."
"I don't trust him, Bane," Tobias said, his eyes still locked on Panzer.
Scarface growled, "Let's just kill them, Panzer. It'll be quick..."
"No!" said Longfang. He pulled out a white, transparent orb and flashed it at his demon panther. "Desist, Scarface!"
With a disapproving roar, Scarface was sucked into the orb. His body broke up into feathery bits of black hair, disappearing into the orb, which now glowed purple.
"Here, if you don't trust me, you can keep Scarface," Panzer said, holding out the orb.
Bane propped Alyson up on a nearby rock, walking towards the Chaos mage's outstretched arm.
"Bane, it might be a trap," warned Tobias, but Bane shrugged his words off.
Taking the Summoning Sphere from Panzer Longfang, he stowed it in his pocket, where he could feel its soft warmth radiating through his coat and shirt.
"Besides," smiled Panzer, "a Channel is merely a tool. True magic lies in here."
He gestured to his heart.
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