Shadow Magic (Darkling Mage 1)

Then all at once, the screeching stopped.

Another tentacle curled out of the gateway, then another, and another, probing and feeling at nothing, so many glistening, black tendrils. They were covered in slime, as if the nether hell from which they were birthed was drenched in this matter, some infernal amniotic fluid.

The first of the black things stepped through the portal, and my heart fell through my stomach. The screaming began anew, but this time, it came from the people all around us.

The creature was like nothing I had ever seen. It was only the basest caricature of something humanoid, a mockery of life, pawing with its talons at the air, as if discovering the world for the very first time. Spindly black legs propelled it forward, with all the twitching, excitable discovery of a child learning to walk.

And it had no head. Where its neck should have been sprouted a nest of tentacles, an innumerable mass of them in various lengths and thicknesses, lashing and whipping at the air. And with a scream that came from some unseen mouth, the thing staggered, jerked forward, then broke into a run.

Two, three more of its brethren, then a dozen more poured out of the slit in reality. The alien horrors raced forward, their movements more feral than human, loping along on two legs or four, or all of their tentacles as they saw fit. They hurtled and howled, a gleaming, wriggling mass of leather-black standing out sickeningly against the city’s artificial pallor, like nightmarish drawings come to life.

A brilliant heat pulsed behind me, and instinctively I ducked as I turned to look. Romira – good old Romira from reception – had conjured a fireball the size of a truck, and with a spirited shout, sent it streaking towards the mass of abominations. It collided with them in a burst of crimson flame, and the tentacled creatures flailed horribly, ululating and gurgling, the smell of them like burnt rubber and human hair.

The flames ate at the squirming, screaming beasts as if they were kindling, and I felt a momentary swell of relief. But Thea was looking smug. The rift was still humming, screeching, and I knew that more of those creatures would come pouring out of the gap. Romira was standing off to the side, clutching at her chest, wheezing. Casting the fire must have taken a lot out of her.

There was no doubting the incredible feats of power mages were capable of, but we were still human after all. Once enough of these things came stumbling out and our Hands ran low on power, I knew they would overrun the city. And like clockwork, as if in answer, more of the monsters came screaming out of the portal, howling from mouths I couldn’t see.

But then I did see, and I regretted everything. I glimpsed their true mouths, the slits at the tips of their tentacles, hidden in the palms of their hands, all lined with points of yellowed teeth. What kind of mad god would create these abominations?

No time to think. They were closing in, and fast, rushing straight for the ranks of the Lorica, as if they knew instinctively to attack us first. The Hands launched into battle, bursts of light flashing from across the square as they deployed their spells.

Here, a crackle and sizzle as a bolt of lightning leapt in a chain, frying a dozen of the creatures to a crisp and leaving them in tangled, molten heaps. There, a woman shouted as she thrust her palms out, slick icicles the size of kitchen knives firing from her hands in a terrifying salvo of deadly frost.

And me, I huddled towards the back of the line, unsure of what the hell I could even begin to do to help.

“Hang back,” Prudence said, her hand across my chest, as if sensing my hesitation. She flew into action. Blazing blue energy wreathed her fists and her feet, and with every strike she obliterated another abomination with unflinching brutality. A single punch blew a hole through one creature’s chest, and a kick severed another’s body at the waist through sheer, devastating force.

Before I could even thank her a single black tentacle sailed into view. One of the things had come upon me somehow, its dozens of teeth clicking as it jerked ever closer, an alien chittering issuing from its many mouths. My heart leapt to my throat, and I eyed the monster’s shadow, ready to step.

It burst into a hundred pieces, tentacles falling to the concrete in limp tatters, its insides spattering the asphalt. I held my hand up against it, grimacing as cold, black blood splashed against the back of my arm.

“Graves!” Bastion shouted. “She said to hang back. Listen.”

“I – thanks,” I muttered, unsure that he could even hear me. I knew it didn’t matter anymore, watching as he held his hand out, as stray rocks and debris from the street lifted at his command. On their own, they were just pebbles, but under Bastion’s power, everything became a weapon. He spread his fingers and the rubble shot forth, spraying at the oncoming horrors, ripping them apart like a hail of bullets.

Stumbling backwards, letting the fighters surge ahead of me, I wondered how long Bastion or any of the Hands could keep this up. There was no stemming the endless tide spilling from the rift. And somehow, things went from bad to worse. Sensing that there were enough of their brethren to keep the Lorica occupied, the newest batch of creatures from the portal broke away from the procession and flooded into the square, clearly meaning to spread throughout the city.

“No,” I shouted, amid screams of warning and horror from around me, from all the others who had spotted the stragglers. From somewhere above us, Thea was laughing to herself, triumphant. She hadn’t even joined the fray, I realized, saving her energies for whatever dark, unknowable purpose. This was bad. She was getting what she wanted: a bloodbath on the scale of an entire city, a grisly offering for her chthonic masters.

Then a cold, commanding voice rang out to drown out all the others.

“Stop.”

It was Odessa, the Scion I had met at Thea’s office. Heads turned at the sound of her voice, and I watched as she lifted a single delicate hand to the sky. Threads of light emanated from each of her fingers, drifting lazily into the clouds as they wove themselves into a translucent sphere that covered the very extent of the square. She was conjuring a dome, a massive, transparent field meant, I began to understand, to keep the abominations from breaking out into the city.

But it was also meant to keep the innocents out. By the Lorica’s definition I knew that it also meant the peacekeepers. Responders had only now reached Central Square, but all around the perimeter of the dome, squad cars and ambulances were parked helplessly, unable to penetrate Odessa’s field. A few officers fired into the shield, attempting to shatter it. I watched, open mouthed as they were, as the bullets simply disappeared.

Trapped, the beasts pounded at the shimmering wall with their appendages, gibbering in rage. My sweat ran cold when I understood that this meant we were trapped in here w

ith them, too. The sensation in my stomach was very much like the feeling of being stuck in a room that was slowly filling up with water, only instead of water, I was contending with a frothing mass of razor-toothed octopus mutants set on tearing me apart.

“Heads up,” Bastion cried.

I stifled a gasp as he wrenched a telephone pole right out of the ground, sending it hurtling through the air like a missile, cleanly impaling five of the abominations in a single strike. It was a strange time to better understand his power, how he worked around the limitations of his range by using his magic to throw objects like projectiles, the way he might with an especially powerful invisible limb.

But it was also a reminder of how limited my own abilities were. I groped around on the ground, desperate to contribute at least in some way to the fight. My fingers closed around a lead pipe. Close enough. I wielded it like a club and charged forth, the scream coming out of my mouth sounding so far away. I was afraid, but I had to fight.

The Hands were doing the bulk of the damage, clearing out whatever else was streaming in through the portal. On the ground around us, it looked like at least fifty of the monsters had been slain, but it didn’t seem like there’d be an end to the wave of horrors. Up ahead, someone screamed as one of the creatures finally found home with its tentacles. Blood pounded in my temples as I watched the thing bury its limbs in a man’s chest, ripping at flesh and bone, killing him in a flurry of writhing, glistening appendages.