here to secure the island.”
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Ryan had never seen a minotaur before. Cluster was about the same size as a typical troll, but his head was shaped more like a bull. He had a snout instead of a nose and his horns jutted from either side of his head and curved up to a sharp point. Despite his appearance, Cluster spoke in elegant, German-accented English.
“I’m Quicksilver,” Ryan said.
“It’s an honor to finally meet the infamous Quicksilver,”Cluster said.
Ryan silently acknowledged the compliment. He gestured to his own team. “This is Axler, my lieutenant. And this is Talon. I believe you’ve already met Grind.”
“Yes, Grind and I did a Desert War tour together.”
The Latino physad stepped up next to Cluster, giving Ryan a challenging look. “Quicksilver, maybe you and I can go hand-to-hand sometime? Just to see who’s the—”
Cluster cut her off. “Starfish, cut the drek!”
Ryan laughed. “Perhaps so,” he said. “But now, we’re in a bit of rush. Your job is to guard the island perimeter. My rigger, Dhin, has two drones in the air. He and Grind will assist you. The others and I will be indisposed inside the chateau.”
“Very well,” Cluster said. “Let’s go.”
Ryan and Cluster made a full walk around the perimeter wall, discussing the positioning of Cluster’s team. The man’s tactical skill reassured Ryan that Jane had chosen well. He learned the names of each of the other runners as they set up the defense. The dwarf rigger was called Bingo. Raven was the samurai; Slider was the elf ninja, and the mage was called Radar.
Ryan wanted to touch base with everyone, examine their auras, and generally keep his mind off the upcoming ritual. Ryan had never been to the metaplanes, and he was sure the trek would not be easy. He had heard stories about the difficulties of traveling there—passing the dweller on the threshold, meeting strange and powerful spirits. Many of his mage friends had spoken of their quests as though they had gone on an inner journey, had delved more into their own spirits than traveled abroad.
I have nothing to fear.
Ryan shook his head, and focused his attention on the details of setting up an impenetrable defense. He asked Dhin if Bingo, the dwarf rigger, could jack into the chopper’s hitcher port. Bingo wanted to use the surveillance drone to scan the area.
Starfish, the hothead physical adept who wanted to spar with Ryan, was assigned to the point of the island farthest from the chateau. Then Cluster set up the rest of his team to monitor the island with overlapping fields of fire.
As they were finishing, the last red light of the dying sun waned in the west. Harlequin and Foster emerged from the chateau, walking hand in hand as they approached. They advanced slowly toward where Ryan stood on the sea wall, their faces serious. Determined.
Ryan turned to Grind and Cluster. “You got it under control?”
They both nodded.
“Good.” Ryan then turned to meet Harlequin and Foster, who were making their way up the short stairs to the walkway that ran along the top of the wall.
“Ryan,” Harlequin said. “It’s time.”
Ryan nodded. He subvocalized into this tacticom mike.
“Axler, Talon,” he said. “Meet us at the entrance to the chateau. You’re coming inside with me.”
When they had all gathered at the main entrance, Harlequin turned and led them inside. “Let’s get this over with,” he said. “The ritual chamber awaits.”
14
Strapped to a table, Lethe looked around at the abandoned restaurant. The astral background smelled old and musty here, almost stagnant. Chairs and tables lay like discarded toys, scattered pell-mell. A giant aquarium built into a wall a hundred years earlier was host only to thick dust and grime-smeared glass.
The auras of several metahumans stood around Lethe, different from those who had transported him in the jet from Panama. Here, two guards flanked each of
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Ryan had never seen a minotaur before. Cluster was about the same size as a typical troll, but his head was shaped more like a bull. He had a snout instead of a nose and his horns jutted from either side of his head and curved up to a sharp point. Despite his appearance, Cluster spoke in elegant, German-accented English.
“I’m Quicksilver,” Ryan said.
“It’s an honor to finally meet the infamous Quicksilver,”Cluster said.
Ryan silently acknowledged the compliment. He gestured to his own team. “This is Axler, my lieutenant. And this is Talon. I believe you’ve already met Grind.”
“Yes, Grind and I did a Desert War tour together.”
The Latino physad stepped up next to Cluster, giving Ryan a challenging look. “Quicksilver, maybe you and I can go hand-to-hand sometime? Just to see who’s the—”
Cluster cut her off. “Starfish, cut the drek!”
Ryan laughed. “Perhaps so,” he said. “But now, we’re in a bit of rush. Your job is to guard the island perimeter. My rigger, Dhin, has two drones in the air. He and Grind will assist you. The others and I will be indisposed inside the chateau.”
“Very well,” Cluster said. “Let’s go.”
Ryan and Cluster made a full walk around the perimeter wall, discussing the positioning of Cluster’s team. The man’s tactical skill reassured Ryan that Jane had chosen well. He learned the names of each of the other runners as they set up the defense. The dwarf rigger was called Bingo. Raven was the samurai; Slider was the elf ninja, and the mage was called Radar.
Ryan wanted to touch base with everyone, examine their auras, and generally keep his mind off the upcoming ritual. Ryan had never been to the metaplanes, and he was sure the trek would not be easy. He had heard stories about the difficulties of traveling there—passing the dweller on the threshold, meeting strange and powerful spirits. Many of his mage friends had spoken of their quests as though they had gone on an inner journey, had delved more into their own spirits than traveled abroad.
I have nothing to fear.
Ryan shook his head, and focused his attention on the details of setting up an impenetrable defense. He asked Dhin if Bingo, the dwarf rigger, could jack into the chopper’s hitcher port. Bingo wanted to use the surveillance drone to scan the area.
Starfish, the hothead physical adept who wanted to spar with Ryan, was assigned to the point of the island farthest from the chateau. Then Cluster set up the rest of his team to monitor the island with overlapping fields of fire.
As they were finishing, the last red light of the dying sun waned in the west. Harlequin and Foster emerged from the chateau, walking hand in hand as they approached. They advanced slowly toward where Ryan stood on the sea wall, their faces serious. Determined.
Ryan turned to Grind and Cluster. “You got it under control?”
They both nodded.
“Good.” Ryan then turned to meet Harlequin and Foster, who were making their way up the short stairs to the walkway that ran along the top of the wall.
“Ryan,” Harlequin said. “It’s time.”
Ryan nodded. He subvocalized into this tacticom mike.
“Axler, Talon,” he said. “Meet us at the entrance to the chateau. You’re coming inside with me.”
When they had all gathered at the main entrance, Harlequin turned and led them inside. “Let’s get this over with,” he said. “The ritual chamber awaits.”
14
Strapped to a table, Lethe looked around at the abandoned restaurant. The astral background smelled old and musty here, almost stagnant. Chairs and tables lay like discarded toys, scattered pell-mell. A giant aquarium built into a wall a hundred years earlier was host only to thick dust and grime-smeared glass.
The auras of several metahumans stood around Lethe, different from those who had transported him in the jet from Panama. Here, two guards flanked each of
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