Chapter 10: Bad Eldritch

The lovey-dovey mood didn’t last long.  They had been in the cab for more than half an hour now and a large screen displaying their ETA (which Artemvian learned meant ‘Estimated Time for Arrival’) was ticking down.  Yet, the car that was chasing them hadn’t made a single move.  Artemvian thought that it was entirely possible that Chang was mistaken.  Perhaps there was no pursuer.  

When he told the young man, Chang looked through one of the side mirrors.

“Damn it.”  Chang cursed.  “They’re still following us.  It’s the same car, I don’t think they know that we realized we’re being followed.  The assholes think they’re being all sneaky.”  

Artemvian turned to look out the rear window.  “You sure?”

“No! What are you–, oh shit! They saw us!”  Chang took out the tiny pistol again, then banged on the driver’s chair.  Albeit, no one was sitting there.  “Step on it!  They noticed us!”  

“Oops.”  The Mage muttered, winking slyly at Kim.  Then he muttered, “Huh, strange.”

“What’s strange?!”  Chang yelled, his gun in hand.

“Before, they sent an entire gang after you.  The bikers, the group of cars.  But this time, it seems to be just one lone car.”  The Mage turned to face Chang, his eyes unreadable.  “What do you think that means?”

“It means they’re finally getting serious.”  Kim whispered.

Artemvian smiled wolfishly.

Chang’s eyes widened in horror.

“You did this on purpose.”  He muttered, realizing just how far Artemvian had planned this out.  “This whole job, you didn’t give a shit about those 500 doilies.  You were just stalling, trying to get a chance to show off against the gang’s muscle.  Force them to show their real hand.”

“You wanted to draw out the heavy hitters.”  He finished, “Luring them out with those ridiculous things you did back there.”

“Aw, you were thaking me just a moment ago.  I already miss it.”  Artemvian’s smile stayed plastered on his face.  “Looks like there are some wrinkles in your brain after all.”

“For what?!”  Chang said, outraged.  “Are you even taking this job seriously?”  

“Because, young man,”  Artemvian shifted in his seat so that he was completely facing the back of the car.  “Unless you send a message, they’ll never stop coming after you.”

Then focusing on the black sedan that was about to ram into them, Artemvian snapped his fingers.  “Separatum.”

There was meaning in saying these words, even for someone of Artemvian’s level.  Sure, he could make the spell work without an incantation.  But attaching a word to a spell helped the practitioner’s focus immensely, and spells were all about focus and visualization.  Really, Artemvian could have attached the word ‘poopy-pants’ and had the same effect, though to a lesser extent.

But there was power in the word itself, in the meaning behind them –simply because the Mage chanting it believed.  The more a mage continued to use the same word for the same magic effect everytime, the easier it became to perform the spell.

Artemvian had been casting this spell for nearly a century.

And the spell he just released hit the black sedan and just…

Vanished.

Artemvian blinked.

“What in the nine hells?...”  Artemvian hissed again, “Separatum!”  He put a bit more effort into it, visualizing the car disassembling into separate parts.

There was a momentary spike of discomfort as an opposing spell fluctuated from within the other car.  Artemvian Mana Sense registered it like a wrongness, a taint on this world.  All things had a place, whether it was Fire, Wind, Entropy and even Death.  But the mana that came from the other car oozed like a fetid piece of meat left outside too long and placed back into the ice box with other fresh meat.

Still, it wasn’t just the fact that the mana was disgustingly vile.  It was the fact that the other car had an inhabitant who was a practitioner just like Artemvian and had the skills to knock his spell away.

“ETA: 5 Minutes.”  Hermes interjected.

“What? What happened?  You tried something, how come nothing happened?”  Chang was freaking out now.

“Quiet.”  Artemvian ordered, placing a palm over one eye.  “There’s a practitioner in the other car.  I’m going to take a look.”

Without even looking, Artemvian could imagine what was happening.  The sigil of an Eye would form out of pure mana on top of their car, fixed in the position right above Artemvian.  His vision then split into two, one with his physical eye and the other through the manifestation of his True Sight.  The True Eye swiveled and locked on the car.

“Show me what you have.”  Artemvian hissed, channeling more power into the spell.

The True Eye pierced through the physical walls, showing Artemvian what lay within the car pursuing them.

It was the same bald man that Artemvian had knocked out during their escape.  Except that this time, he had criss-crossing belts around his torso which held all sorts of blades and guns.  His equipment wasn’t the only thing that had changed, he had apparently swapped out Fornello (May his soul rest in peace, Artemvian silently offered up a prayer) for a different partner.

His partner was wearing a gray-colored three-piece suit, complete with a fashionable round-rimmed hat.  Artemvian couldn’t tell if the man was entirely human.  For one, the man was wearing leather gloves and bandages wrapped around his neck.  Not only that, his face was hidden behind a metallic mask with a single glass lens embedded where his eyes were supposed to be.  The lens was perfectly round and colored a creepy purple-red, some kind of mask designed to look like a mechanical cyclops?

And secondly…

The disgusting mana was coming from this man.

It was just wrong and looking at it began to build pressure in Artemvian’s own head.  Like staring at a picture too close, he couldn’t make sense of it.  This mana didn’t belong to humans, daemons or any monster that he’d ever seen.  Just who the hell was this man?  In fact, what the hell was he?

“Tell me who this man is.”  Artemvian quickly gave a description of the man.

Chang froze.

“Well?”  Artemvian drawled.

“He’s a mercenary.  Not someone from our gang.”  Kim answered for Chang, looking down into her lap with her hands folded.  “He calls himself the Enigma.”

“Poser.”  Secretly, Artemvian was already thinking of monikers for when he got to play in the big leagues.

“Shit, we’re here.”  Chang looked out the window.  “There’s no time Kim.  We have to make a run for it, or the boat’s going to leave without us.”

Their destination was the docks.  Looking outside, Artemvian saw huge rectangular metal structures piled on top of each other, more than four or five stories tall.  That wasn’t all of it.  Large cargo boats, more colossal than he could have thought possible, blotted out the Ocean view.  They bellowed smoke that mixed with the orange sun, creating a stark contrast between nature’s beauty and her children’s waste.

The black sedan pulled up a good distance away from them.  The door opened and the two pursuers exited.

“Well then, no point in keeping them waiting.”

Opening the door, Artemvian exited the car.  He offered a hand to Kim, who accepted it graciously.  Chang came around the other side, his gun held in one hand.

“That was a nice trick you pulled, Mage.”  The bald man growled, taking large steps towards them.  His hands reached towards the weapons hanging on the straps.  “I’m going to gut you like a fish.”

“Mr. Ping,”  The man with the hat said.  His voice was a pleasant tone and not at all muffled by the machine-like mask.  His speech was clipped with an accent that reminded Artemvian of Islanders from the West back home.  “Please wait.”

The man’s red lens was unmistakably locked on Artemvian.  “Are you the Mage who spied on us in the car?”

So this man was skilled enough to sense Artemvian’s Sight.  “I am.”  Artemvian gave a slight bow, accompanied by a hand flourish.  “Artemvian Delacreau Moneti, at your service.”

“I am called July.”  

“September must be scared of you then.”  Artemvian couldn’t stop himself.

July cocked his head in curiosity.

“Cause July is seven and seven ate nine.”  Then the Mage burst out laughing at his own joke.

No one else laughed.

Hermes drove away.

“By starlight, this world has no humor.”  Artemvian grumbled.

“I’d like to make a proposal.”  July said, clearing his throat.  “Let us have the girl, Mr. Moneti.  And we will let you go free.”

“No deal.”  

“I wasn’t done with my offer, I’m afraid.”  July continued.  “I know what you are, Practitioner of the Old Ways.  I can make a guess as to what you are looking for.”

“Oh?  What am I?”

“We can discuss that at length in a more… suitable place.”  The strange man deflected, “But suffice it to say, Mr. Moneti, that we have taken a great interest in your… future.  We are willing to invest very heavily to see that your future involves us.”

“Who’s we?”  Artemvian asked, “And for that matter, what can you offer me that I can’t get myself?”

“Wealth.  Information.  Power.”

The bald man rounded on July.  “Hey! What’s with all the prattling?  You’re supposed to help me get the girl and-”

It happened without warning.

July spun on his heel and stabbed his partner right in the heart.

The dagger glowed with an otherworldly red light.  There was no way to describe it, July’s mana and even the dagger that he used had some strange energy that Artemvian had never encountered before.  As the dagger glowed, Ping’s mouth opened to scream but no sound came out.  Artemvian watched, captivated, as the bald man became a mummified corpse in a manner of seconds.

When July took the dagger out, there was no blood on it; like the thing had drank it all.

Artemvian froze, closing his eyes.

Absolutely still like an ice sculpture.

“What’s that?”  He asked.

“Relic of a bygone era,”  July’s voice was awe, almost reverent.  “Repurposed for our uses.”

“Do you have any idea what it just did?”  Artemvian opened his eyes and July took a step back.

The Mage’s eyes were actually leaking mana, sending trails of thick cerulean blue wafting up into the air.  When he spoke, his voice was layered –like he was speaking from three different voices.

“You just sent life energy into a different plane.  A different dimension, not of this world.”  Artemvian pointed at the dagger.  “That thing should not exist.”

“A necessary price, to correct the wrongs of this world.”

“A necessary price?”  Artemvian laughed and his voice rang hollow, echoing off of the metal containers.  “You just destroyed a soul.  You erased it from existence, from Karma, from the Wheel.  It will not know Heaven, nor Hell.”

July didn’t answer.

“Is that a no, Mr. Moneti?”

Artemvian spat to the side.

“Tell me the name of your god, Young Abomination, so that I may blot it out of existence.  So that whichever wayward god dared to look upon this realm may never have a foothold, that its name will be forgotten.”

“I dare not speak the name of our saviors.”  July began to gather his own mana.  Sickly roiling waves of energy, curved and spiked at the same time rose from July’s body.  It twisted like a fish out of air, like it hurt to just exist on this plane.

Yet, it held.

“But I can tell you our name, so that you may remember it when the End Days come.  Oh, Relic of a Bygone Era, your magic will feed us so that humanity may live.”  July’s voice rose to a crescendo.

“We,”  He said dramatically.  “Are Eldritch.”

“I gotcher Eldritch right here,”  Artemvian hissed.  “Silentium!”

And a waterfall of blue mana fell from the heavens, blotting out the otherworldly energy that July had worked so hard to gather.

When the cascading mana faded away, July lay on the ground, twitching.

“What?  You think I leaked mana out of my eyes for fun?”  Artemvian smirked.  He walked up to July who was struggling to reach for the dagger.  “Honestly, I didn't even need to chant for this one.  I just felt like it.”

Artemvian had just admitted to the mage’s equivalent of sucker-punching July.

“Yoink!”  Artemvian picked up the dagger, holding it gingerly between two fingers.  He sniffed the dagger and pulled away immediately.  “Oh, that smells like shit.  Such rancid mana.  What the fuck is this supposed to be?  God of toilets and outhouses?”

“How… dare… you…. Insult our…”

And Artemvian exploded.

“Bad! Bad Occult Mage! Bad!  You’re! Not! Allowed! To! Contact! Different! Dimensions!”  With each word, Artemvian slapped July on his metallic head with the dagger’s handle.  “Bad! Bad Eldritch Mage! Bad, bad, bad!”  

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Bad!”