(STORY)
from: CHAPTER ELEVEN ~ WINTER SOJOURN
characters: KORVUUS (pov), RAAF, and an unexpected visitor...
Managing the branch of an espionage network is hard work when you're traveling. This Korvuus learned when he agreed to keep an eye on some matters in Ladroa on behalf of the Baron Cordova, and then soon after embarked on a journey to Auspenheim that became an extended stay.
As the bird flies, Ladroa was not so far away, but it required Korvuus leave Auspendstadt for days at a time. Later, after he devoured an ailing earth spirit and learning of its secrets, he taught himself how to walk the green path of the Grovestrider, which made the commute that much easier.
Even so, it was truly his regular visits with his trusted partners in the city that truly made the balance possible. Discretion was important for all parties. On such occasions, he was always careful to wear a different face - was Ladroa not the city of masks, after all?
However, on this occasion, he discovered to his dismay that some in the city do not sleep. Instead they stand guard ever-watchfully, and prowl the shadows for any scent of their prey...
The lantern light danced in the empty garret, bringing a hint of warmth to the derelict surroundings. Outside, a cold, wet wind had blown up in the night, and the man who was Korvuus - but who did not look like Korvuus - stared at the small wisps of yellow flame behind the lantern glass. In the murk of the old tower it seemed surprisingly bright, and the metal struts of the lantern cast odd linear shadows about the chamber.
The room was actually quite large, covering the whole topmost floor of the square-walled tower. Some old furniture remained here - hardwood cabinets, a table, two chairs, and an upended bed leaned against one wall. A dubious ladder led up into the rafters to a roof-hatch consumed by the darkness above. Korvuus could hear the rustling of the bats who had made a home there, their tiny conversations almost inaudible to human ears. He smiled to himself.
This garret in the Armacenes district was one of several locations that had once been used by the Baron Cordova as safe havens around Ladroa. The lower levels were rented out as storage for dry goods, but the loft had its own entrance; a rickety wooden staircase that scaled the outer tower, and a door that had been fixed shut by a rusty old lock for months, if not years. The roof hatch and shuttered windows were much easier to open, for those who had the means to reach them.
A fluttering sound alerted him to the presence of another, but the sound did not startle him. Indeed, Korvuus would have heard nothing at all, had the other truly wished to conceal his arrival.
“Doesn’t it seem pointless to meet in places like this when we have more comfortable options available to us?” said Raaf with mild disdain.
Korvuus turned to face him. In spite of his complaints, Raaf was dressed for the clandestine occasion. His black leather coat flowed around him in the breeze from the now-open window, and the brim of his matching bycocket hat was pulled low over his sharp eyes. He tugged the scarf down from around his face, and his lean, pale features were like a slash of light showing through a black curtain.
“Our mutual friend insisted we do it this way, and I do believe he’s correct.” Korvuus replied. “We shouldn’t meet in the same places more than once, and certainly not anywhere that might compromise anybody. And besides, I’m not even supposed to be in Ladroa at the moment, so we can’t do things in the usual way. You know this.”
Raaf sighed and nodded. “Sorry. It’s this miserable weather. I suppose life in Ladroa is making me soft. I've seen worse winters in Koshkovia of course, but…”
“It's worse than it would be in Ascenzia, I’m sure.” Korvuus smiled. “In any case, I can’t stay long. This is my second stop, and I’ve rested here too long. Matters with my friends are getting delicate. It’s almost the full moon again, and I’d like to return to the Bosque before first light. What news here?”
Raaf gave a small deferential bow. A reflex, Korvuus supposed, but the formality faintly bothered him. “All seems well. No Bletcher activity. Still no news of Salvador. Arriaga is behaving. The Mariscales are quiet. No news is good news, right?”
Korvuus shook his head. “Not necessarily. Wood can still be rotten beneath the bark, and we need time for…”
“...for the seeds to grow. I know.” Raaf gave a knowing smirk, and Korvuus had to chuckle to himself.
“Yes, that.”
“Speaking of our little seedlings, I've provided the payment to our, uh, acquisition specialists. As you know, a ship was lined up, and the assets were safely moved after our last meeting. Everything was sent out last week, and I’m expecting confirmation from Ascenzia any day."
“Hm. And no mishaps with the acquisition part, I hope? They weren't seen? Nothing to trace back to them?” Korvuus frowned. This was always a concern for him.
“Smooth, as always. They prefer not to move unless they think the intelligence is sound."
“Please see to it that they don’t. They are very clever, but they lack experience. Any info needs to be verified. Caution is paramount. I know it’s not your job to look after them, but…”
Raaf shifted uncomfortably for a moment. “You know the orders come from him. I just deliver them…”
“As a favour to me, please... don’t let them get in over their heads. The risks will only increase, and any misstep will affect everything that we’ve built. He trusted me to handle things here in Ladroa, but currently, you must be my eyes on this. And so it is that I trust you…”
Raaf hesitated, then relented. “I’ll review the orders. If something looks wrong, I’ll bring it to you first. And I’ll provide some overwatch when I can.”
Korvuus nodded appreciatively. “Thank you, my friend. Now, I think we have some organizational details to discuss, especially regarding the new membership…”
He trailed off, partly because he’d seen a sudden tension in Raaf’s darting eyes, and partly because he was now hearing a chorus of high-pitched complaints from the bats above.
“Infiltrator!” whispered Raaf harshly.
Even as Korvuus' mind processed these details, Raaf’s body was already reacting. In a flash, he drew a small spade-shaped blade from a hidden sheath and flicked across the room with the force of a snapping whip. Korvuus couldn’t see his target, but he heard the blade whistle into the darkness. Yet, there was no soft thud of blade on flesh, no clink of metal against bricks. It disappeared without a sound.
There was only a breath of silence, and then came the laugh… low and giddy to start, rising to a harsh chuckle, and finally unfurling into a peal of maniacal cackling that seemed to emanate from every direction at once. The sound sent an uncanny shudder through Korvuus’ body, but he was much more concerned about the one who belonged to this laugh. Mariscal Rigolo.
“Oh my, this fellow is rather quick, isn’t he?” The voice dripped with saccharine derision. At first Korvuus could only see a patch of a‘face’ -- a white canvas mask with three crescents painted upon it in the shape of a mirthful expression. Then, the contours of a robed figure in a tricorn hat began to separate from the gloom like a ghost. The missing spade-shaped throwing blade was casually tossed aside, to clatter across the floorboards. “But not quick enough, I’m afraid. How absolutely devastating for both of you… ”
Korvuus heard Raaf gasp under his breath. “He's a shadow-walker…”
“Raaf, don’t–” Korvuus began, but it was already too late.
“Go! Vanish! I’ll deal with this!” Raaf barked, and in a blink he was across the room, stepping from one patch of shadow to another, his sabre drawn. To Raaf's credit, the Mariscal seemed genuinely taken aback by his opponent's gloom-borne swiftness. From within his formless robes, the Laughing Shadow sprouted a dagger, and narrowly turned aside Raaf’s first two swings. The third swing found nothing -- Rigolo was already gone, sidestepped into a narrow sliver of darkness as if he were as flat as a signboard.
In that same moment, from across the room, two stilettos whirled out of the black. Raaf deflected one with his saber-guard. The other punched through the scaled sleeve he wore on his left arm -- shallow wound, fortunately. Raaf muttered a curse under his breath in the Koshka tongue, and leapt backward into the cover of the shadows nearest to him.
This duel continued for several more heartbeats, the two vanishing figures darting to and fro, across the floor, and between the darkened rafters above. Swords clashed. Knives spun through the air and collided, flickering in and out of the lantern-light.
“Don’t fight him!” Korvuus cried out in vain, as he struggled to follow the action. He found himself spinning to face whichever direction was next announced by the ringing of steel on steel, and always just a moment behind.
He gritted his teeth, and began to channel the primal forces within him. He whispered in the Green Voice, and focused his efforts into one hand, his fingers in a crabbed gesture, ready to unleash the energies contained there. He needed to end this quickly. Perhaps he could transform the Mariscal into a rat? Or a frog? Or seize control of all the living organisms in his body and paralyze him. But could he even follow Rigolo’s movements? Maybe. Or perhaps there was an easier target? He faltered a moment and re-adjusted his focus onto Raaf instead. One way or another, this fight had to stop.
Rigolo seemed to sense something was about to happen. He whirled abruptly to kick a chair, sending it skidding across floor. He then collapsed inward, falling into the floor like soot. Korvuus blinked, and looked down just in time to notice the long shadow cast by the chair in the lamplight, which was just now brushing his feet. The realization came too late. From within that shadow a grinning specter shot upward, one arm outstretched to rest a gleaming four-barreled brass pistol against Korvuus’ forehead.
“Oh, hello. Have we met? It looked like you were perhaps casting a spell of some kind.” Rigolo cocked his head to one side. “Let’s not.”
Korvuus heard the hard metallic snap as a wheellock mechanism was released. In the same instant he felt the barrel shift from his forehead just to the side, near his ear. The rest was lost in a resounding roar. He reeled, his ears screaming in pain, and his eyes and lungs full of burning sulphuric smoke. He instinctively clutched his face, and found that it was thankfully still there, but the spell he was conceiving was gone from his head.
Even through the ringing in his ears, he somehow still heard the Mariscal’s echoing laughter. Steadying himself against a wall, Korvuus saw Rigolo pluck the lantern from the table. “Let’s make this more interesting, my boy” he taunted, and then tossed the lantern high into the air. Spinning end-over-end, the lantern cast shadows careening wildly around the room. Rigolo seemed to leap up into this scintillating maelstrom and become one with it.
The lantern could not have been in the air for more than five seconds, but in that time Korvuus saw Rigolo lash out at Raaf again and again. The lantern shadows whirled about like a pinwheel, and it was clear that Raaf's own shadow-stepping could not match his opponent’s pace. Instead, he pitched drunkenly out of a shadow that was racing breakneck across the ceiling, and his body crashed headlong into a wall. Reeling back, he was struck by a rafter hard across his chest and flopped heavily to the floor. He quickly pushed himself up to one knee, breathing hard and wild-eyed, searching for the next attack.
Rigolo melted out of the darkness of the roof vaulting above, and dropped like a rivulet of black rain. He fell, but did not strike the floorboards below - instead, he plunged soundlessly through a flickering patch of shadow on the floor, only to simultaneously hurtle from another shadow cast upon the far wall. His trajectory was now horizontal but the momentum of his fall was not diminished. It was as if Rigolo, previously a formless apparition, had chosen that instant to become solid again to deliver a bone-shuddering dropkick to Raaf’s staggering form, and sent him stumbling back with enough force that both feet left the ground.
Raaf skidded to a stop in front of Korvuus in a limp, twitching heap. Still bleary from the smoke and noise, Korvuus saw Rigolo recover into a low crouch, his judge's robes draped over the floor around him like a pool. Then, with an amused chuckle, the Mariscal drew his amorphous form upright once again into a looming silhouette. A gloved hand reached out calmly and caught the falling lantern before it could smash onto the floorboards. Its light now projected a monstrous outline of Rigolo's form across the wall behind him. The laughing mask was implacable, maddening, diabolical. “Now... I do believe we were just about to discuss some organizational details, were we not…?”
Korvuus’ wits were finally returning, but the moment for talking them out of this scenario had long passed. The situation was now spectacularly out of control. He grabbed Raaf by the shoulders, and bellowed hoarsely into his ears, “Raaf! You need to take wing. Now!!”
In the blink of an eye, there was no longer a Raaf, or a Korvuus - only a small, rumpled crow gently suspended in the heart of a suddenly-raging storm. Hurricane-force winds erupted on the spot and quickly engulfed the full room. Furniture was thrown against the walls and splintered, and the garret was plunged into darkness as the lantern was dashed to the floor. The hatches and window shutters were flung wide, and a torrential force exploded outward into the night air, churning and howling like some elemental wolf, scattering roof tiles like blowing leaves behind it, and waking a chorus of barking dogs across the city.
* * * *
Korvuus did not stop until he had cleared half of Ladroa. His undulating elemental form set down in a darkened orchard in the Bosque, and he released the aspect of primordial wind he had summoned and temporarily bound into his body. He found himself feeling abruptly cold, tired, and particularly human again, but at least the crisp, quiet winter air was somewhat soothing to his aching ears, eyes, and lungs.
“I was covering your escape. Why didn’t you run…?” Raaf coughed weakly. The crow had also returned to his natural human form, and lay groaning on the damp ground.
“Here. This will help." Korvuus murmured a few soft primeval words to call forth a healing spirit in the shape of a spectral bird. He bade it perch on Raaf. "You really shouldn’t have done that.” he admonished.
“I didn’t know how much he’d overheard. We couldn’t risk it. Had to give you time to escape.”
“It was a stupid move. He wasn’t going to recognize me wearing this face, but if you’d been captured, it would have been a disaster. If you’re here to support our work, I can’t have you deciding to eliminate people without my counsel. And we definitely can’t just make war on the Marsicales.”
Raaf shifted uncomfortably and checked a slash across his leg that was already scabbing over under the healing spirit’s influence. “Sorry. When I saw he was using Sankarite Shadow Craft, I thought I could handle it. I thought I could take him… but… ”
Korvuus nodded gravely. “I’ve seen your Shadow Craft before, but never anything like that.”
Raaf nodded sullenly. “Normally, a practitioner needs to look first. It’s important to see where you’re stepping to. I thought my Shadow Craft was pretty good, but Rigolo… I couldn’t keep up with him. What he’s doing shouldn’t be possible. He keeps his momentum through every step and never stops moving. It’s like he can make the steps blind.”
“Or he’s already mapped out every step, and knows where each shadow has yet to fall. Either way, he’s very formidable.” Korvuus mused. “Where did you learn the Shadow Craft? In Sankar?”
“No, my master was a Sankarite, and he gave me my Shadow Mark. But the Shadow Crafts have travelled all across the eastern continent and into Talumia. Supposedly many sects appeared there in the first era of the Daramadi Caliphate.”
Korvuus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, then, now we know how he always sneaks up on us. But how did he know where to find us?” Rigolo had gotten closer to the Baron than any of the other Mariscales. Had he traced the previous ownership of the garret back to Lorentino di Magappi's old holdings, and simply staked it out? Or did he follow one of them? It seemed unlikely; Raaf usually moved about in crow guise, while Korvuus wore different faces on each visit.
Raaf shrugged. “I thought the Mariscales were supposed to close their investigation after the Magappi affair. Why would he even be bothering with us now?”
Raaf had a point. After all the intrigues of the previous autumn, things had been very quiet this winter. Most of the heists he had coordinated on the Baron's behalf had not been made public, and they had done little else worthy of the Mariscales’ attention.
Korvuus briefly considered whether Rigolo’s appearance had been mere happenstance. Unfortunately, due to Raaf’s overreaction, the Laughing Shadow’s curiosity would now most definitely be piqued. Unlike the other Mariscales, Rigolo was not frightening simply because of his skills, but because he could appear anywhere, and he always seemed to know everything that went on in Ladroa. Korvuus wondered if Rigolo collected all the information himself. Did he have even more informants than the Baron?
Korvuus frowned. “Rigolo seems to be everywhere. He waits under every rock and leaf. He grows wherever there is darkness, like… “
“Like mushrooms?” offered Raaf wryly.
“Mm.” agreed Korvuus. “We’ll need to be mindful of where we allow our shadows to be cast. Put any open items on hold. The Mariscales don't need to be our enemies, and I don’t want to expose our roots any further. For now we’ll simply go silent and let our trails grow cold. If we choose to cast our shadow again, let it be when and where we wish him to appear…”
