The Dark Road

Chapter 1: Whirlwind

THE FALL HAD come. One of its first grey days descended on Reliance, matching the mood that had pervaded the streets even during the last warm and glorious days of summer. Crossing the threshold of the half-done construction project, Deez looked up warily at the skeleton that was their new assignment. He checked the street behind them and swung the chain-link fence closed with a light click that was not reassuring. Like a gate could stop anything.

Honaia, ahead of him, was oblivious. She walked arm-in-arm with the foreman, chatting easily. Batting her eyelashes. Deez grinned. She was really catching on, learning to apply her pastoral charm in her new environment. It was good for business.

They made their way past heavily-muscled workers wearing faded denim, hard hats, and frowns. Construction bouncers. Good one. Inside the portable that functioned as the main office, Deez eased his bulk into a chair at the end of the table, crossed his arms, and watched.

Honaia sat across the table from the foreman, brushed her honey-colored curls over her shoulder and folded her hands on the table. The foreman, a human of average looks with rusty brown hair and the beginning of fine sun lines on his face, gazed across at her with a sort of dazed grin. Until she started talking.

By the time they were nearing any kind of agreement, the foreman’s grin had been replaced with something more akin to worried confusion. To his credit, he shook himself, shuddering, and scribbled a number on a piece of paper. He pushed it across the table at her and managed in a steady voice, We just can’t go any higher than this. I’m sorry.

Honaia shot Deez a quick glance, looked back at the paper, flounced and pouted. Was it the big blue eyes or the full pink lips that made the foreman melt momentarily into a puddle of sympathy before shaking himself again and sitting up straighter? He smiled at her regretfully and shrugged, then peeked at her cleavage when she looked down at the paper again.

Honaia turned the slip of paper over in her hands. I tell you what, she finally said, smiling at him.

He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

For that price, I can give you Deez. She waved one hand toward him, and Deez cracked a jagged, toothy grin that made the foreman shudder in a different way. As if trolls were intimidating or something. Not that Deez was beyond using racial stereotyping to his advantage.

Honaia continued on pace. You’ll still get all the specs you’ll need to meet the code requirements, so it shouldn’t be a problem. And I’ll be free to make up the lost revenue on our end by taking on a few more assignments. She beamed at him and fluttered her eyelashes for good measure.

For just a moment, the foreman looked torn. He sputtered. Then he scribbled a new number on the back side of the paper. Honaia eyed it and again glanced at Deez, who nodded.

It looks like we have a deal, Honaia grinned, her voice carrying a slightly breathless quality.

The foreman appeared simultaneously disgusted with himself and relieved. He managed an amiable smile and shook both their hands. Let me show you around.

The tour of the construction site consisted of a walk around and through the half-finished skeleton of the high-rise building. Work on the project had halted abruptly when the previous magic consultants withdrew due to unforeseen circumstances. There were a lot of unforeseen circumstances in Reliance these days.

When the foreman finally left them to get started on their work, Honaia frowned at Deez. Did we really need to go that high?

Deez was not looking at her. He had his eyes closed, working on drawing in power particles to start his task. He did not see Honaia flinch, eyeballing him. Pausing as he gathered his magical reserve, he muttered, Times is hard.

Honaia rolled her eyes. I’m sure Onus just really needs that extra bit to keep from going under, huh?

Deez was intent on the side of the skeleton nearest them. In a moment, the initial shimmer of the first safety field appeared— a temporary force field that could withstand only minor impact, but that would keep workers from falling perilously to their demises in case of accident. Hopefully. More permanent force fields would be much more effective but given the amount of magical energy required for so many, and thus the amount of manpower

required—

not to mention the need to sometimes move them

around—

most construction companies only contracted for the minimum specifications as outlined by Council code. So, workers still occasionally met their demises. It was part of the job.

Deez finally threw a look at Honaia. He’s gotta be able to keep up with his apprentice’s shopping habits, you know.

Honaia folded her arms and plopped herself down on a piece of broken concrete at Deez’ feet. It’s not like my salary is any more than yours.

Deez laughed hard enough that he had to pause in the construction of the next force field. No shit.

Honaia frowned and looked up at him. What? she said. How much do you get paid?

Deez, still chuckling, only gave her another look before wandering off to get a better view of the next section of construction. Honaia stayed where she was, pouting and eyeing the jagged structure of disconnected beams jutting from a grey pit in a grey yard swallowed by a bleak grey sky.

Deez went on about his business, setting up force fields. Near him, some of the construction workers lounged on stacks of steel beams, drinking ale and watching him.

What does she do? one of them finally hollered, gesturing to Honaia, who still hadn’t moved from her concrete perch at the opposite corner of the site. Deez glanced over to see Honaia busy checking her nails. Oblivious to them, she sighed, brushed back her long hair, and leaned back on her hands as though she were sunbathing.

Does she need to do anything? Deez asked, frowning at them.

They didn’t see his frown. Or anything else. They were a chorus of no’s and shaken heads.

It was right about then that all hell broke loose.

A

man—

one of the workers from the looks of

him—

came tearing through the gate, shouting. He flipped the gate latch behind him, grabbed whatever debris was nearby, and began piling it in front of the gate. While the rest of the site sprang into action, Deez stood his ground and looked at the man, cocking his head in slight bafflement. For one, the latch and debris weren’t going to hold back anything worth holding back. And for two, a simple chain link fence spanned the entire west and south sides of the site (with the rest being backed onto the river). Anything that could climb could come over that

fence—

and in Renshar, a lot of things that didn’t need to climb.

Honaia was suddenly at Deez’ side. What is it? she panted.

He set his jaw and reached under his jacket to pull out his huge, troll-sized pistol. Dunno. But it doesn’t look good. He started steadily toward the gate. Stay with me. Stopping at the mass confusion at the gate, he glanced down, noticed her at his side, and amended, Behind me.

Why don’t I have a gun yet? Honaia pouted.

Deez bit back a smile. He was rubbing off on her. What’s the problem? he bellowed loud enough to be heard above the chaos of workers throwing debris randomly in front of the gate.

Rioters. It was the foreman, who had sense enough to have already begun ordering the workers to stop throwing stuff at the

gate…

not that they were listening. They broke the enforcer barrier on Fifth Street.

Crap, Deez said. Then he raised his voice again. Awright, listen up. Amazingly, the workers did. This ain’t gonna do shit, so I want everybody to get inside. He thrust one huge, green finger at the portable. "Lock the doors, barricade everything in there, and

don’t…

fucking…

come…

out. Understand?"

The workers demonstrated their understanding by stampeding toward the portable and shoving each other out of the way to get through the door first.

Deez sighed and looked at the foreman, who, along with a sprinkling of workers had stayed. Then he realized Honaia was still behind him and turned to frown down at her. You too.

Mm-mm. It was a tiny squeak of a protest accompanied by a shake of her head. She was staring wide-eyed past him. Nothing could be seen yet, but a faint noise was beginning like the first shhh of a tidal wave.

Deez knew arguing was futile, and anyway, the door to the portable slammed shut with a distinct finality. Gods, woman, he said, and turned back toward the gate, muttering, Onus’ll fucking skin me for this.

Honaia, behind his bulk, was making little jumps to try to see over his shoulder. Alright, she said, stopping, what do we do?

Hope to gods they don’t come this way.

Well, that’s helpful.

If they do, we scare ’em as much as possible and hope they think we’re not worth the effort. Deez closed his eyes and started drawing in power particles. Then he looked at the remaining workers who were transfixed on the distant street. Go get some heavy equipment going. The men jumped into action.

Deez and Honaia stood and waited.

Aren’t you going to put up a field? Honaia asked.

Not ’til I know where I need it, Deez explained. I’ll run out of power quick if they start coming at us.

Then the gun and the machinery, Honaia muttered. And if that fails?

A wave of shrieks suddenly broke over the lower noises and the first rioters could be seen running a few blocks down the street.

Then fists, Deez said. And you run hard as you can for the river. You can swim, right?

Swim? Honaia shrugged when he eyeballed her over his shoulder. I can fight.

Deez turned back to watch the rioters close in on them. This won’t be no bar fight.

Honaia stepped to the side to peek around him and swore under her breath. Before he could tell her to, she stepped back. So, she said, hope to the gods.

Considering the rioters were a block away and closing, Deez thought it unlikely that hoping would amount to anything. He breathed a silent prayer to Damaethus, the ancient troll-god of battle, and limbered his muscles.

Just in time to make their stand, a jumping crane and a

shifter—

both pulled by giant

crull—

swung up along the fence to their side. The grim-faced drivers signaled to them with a wave and nod. Behind them in the construction yard came the rumble of more moving equipment.

The first of the rioters hurtled into the street in front of the construction zone. Ogres, boglins, elves, gnomes, griffons, trolls, humans, and so on. Even a faerie or two could be seen wreaking havoc in the distance, and they were mostly a level-headed bunch. It seemed that no one in this city was sane anymore. Rioters covered the street in hordes, smashing windows, ripping doors off hinges, and setting things on fire. They covered and consumed pods that had been abandoned by panicked drivers, leaving ’corns to rear up and gallop haphazardly through the chaos, seeking escape routes. Explosions of glass and concrete and shredded metal followed in their wake. And, in an instant, they were at the construction site.

Deez glared menacingly at the first wild-eyed maniac who looked his way. When the boglin took a step forward, Deez raised his pistol and fired a warning shot. Rather than being sensible about it, the boglin and his fellow rioters took this as a challenge and swarmed toward the chain link fence.

To the side, the ball of the crane began to move. As Deez fired rounds into the crowd, the crane leaned out into the street and made one quick pass. The ball swept a mass of rioters into a semi-solid lump of appendages and threw them half a block down the street.

Deez signaled wildly at the driver of the crane to stop. The ball reeled in.

Surely that’ll discourage them, Honaia grimaced, peeking past Deez toward the lump of people.

Sure, Deez said. You bet.

A roar rose up from the crowd and a second wave surged forward. The crane reached out to make another sweep and Deez fired wildly at the rioters who escaped the ball and threatened to encroach upon the construction site.

What about the force fields? Honaia was chattering.

Can’t. Deez took out two gnomes and an elf who were only a few feet away by the time he got to them. The crane would break it. It’s in the way.

Shit, Honaia said. The shifter had also sprung into action. Apparently, the driver had realized the futility of the chain link fence and decided to drive over it into the fray, despite the loud bellows and other protestations of the crull pulling it. Two more pieces of crull-driven machinery pulled into the fence line.

He’s breaking the fucking line, Deez grumbled, shooting some more. The other machinery, still among the remains of the fence, was prohibiting the creation of a force field. This was not a huge problem until the gnomes with guns emerged. They fired randomly at first, then realized there was someone to shoot at.

Bullets—

real

bullets—

and surge

flares—

not

stun—

began whizzing toward Deez and Honaia. Deez managed a small force field in front of them just in time to avoid impact. The crackle and thud of deflected bullets became a steady percussion.

This ain’t gonna last long, taking this much impact, Deez grunted, picking gunslingers off one-by-one. He didn’t see the griffon swooping down on them until it was too late. He raised his gun to react, knowing the timing was off.

The crushing talons were closing in only a foot above his head. He closed his

eyes…

.

No impact. But to his side, the muffled sound of a crash, and the angry roar-squawks of an injured, giant bird-cat. Deez pried his eyes open and looked. The griffon was down, broken wing, bleeding from both front legs, feathers ruffled in wrong directions. It was as though it had overshot and crashed. Was it drunk? No time for questions. It glared at him with one eagle eye. He raised his pistol and shot it.

That was lucky, Honaia was saying. "What

the—

"

Running straight for them out of the crowd was a gnome with eyes like a demon. In his hand was a silver, crackling electric mace. Lightning bolts trailed in his wake.

Shit, said Deez. These guys have been watching way too many movies.

The gnome stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, ignoring the oncoming shifter. He swung the mace around his head two times and flicked it at Deez and Honaia. Lightning struck toward them in a jagged leap of white light. The force field crashed. Deez was knocked back a step. Honaia pitched backward onto the ground and barely managed to avoid being trampled.

That’s us. Deez grabbed Honaia by the shirt and hauled her to her feet. They watched in horror as the shifter took on the gnome. A moment later, the driver, the gnome, and the giant crull were one twitching, electrocuted mass. The smell of burnt fur and flesh filled the streets. Rioters parted around the bodies to avoid joining their fate but still swarmed toward the construction site. To the side, some of the more agile rioters had leapt or flown over the remnants of the fence, and were climbing onto the equipment, going for the drivers.

Honaia was cursing under her breath. Now fists?

You sure you don’t wanna run? Deez glanced back at her. This is some serious shit.

A groan of concrete and metal issued from down the street, and then an unmistakable, slow ‘thud’, ‘thud’, ‘thud’.

Honaia’s eyes went wide. She cocked her head to listen. Wazzat?

A fucking giant, Deez said.

In the city? Honaia’s voice had gone a pitch higher and her eyes a degree wider. Nah-ah.

I ain’t shittin’ you, Deez said, still taking shots at the rioters running for them. The huge foot that smashed down on two pods across the street backed him up.

Honaia swore under her breath again. Then a breeze

stirred—

one of those grey, dismal day breezes. Then it stirred some more. In only a moment, it was a proper wind gust.

Deez was putting everything into a new force field that bubbled around them. This will only take one hit from a boggin’ giant. He had to yell it above what seemed to be a sudden storm. In all of two minutes, debris was flying and whirling, whapping into the people on the streets who threw their arms up to protect their faces. They squinted at first, and tried to press on, but soon they were looking for shelter, running for buildings to take cover from the increasing intensity of the winds.

Holy shit, Deez was yelling, watching the chaos from the relative safety of their little bubble. Luckily, no debris had impacted their field.

Honaia didn’t answer, except for more swearing under her breath.

The streets quickly vacated, and shortly, even the giant withdrew. The people who had climbed onto the equipment were some of the last to hightail it to safety, leaving the drivers to hide in the shelter of the cabs. As quickly as the riot and the storm had started, everything died down. There was utter silence. Then just a breeze. Then the distant, muffled noises of drivers emerging from hiding and hopping down onto the broken concrete. The tangled electric mass in the street gave one sudden and final zap and went dead.

Two deep breaths, then Deez let the force field die. He looked around. The street was shredded. Whatever the rioters had missed, the storm had taken care of. Street lights were down, windows on upper stories blown out. A chunk of roof had come off one building and lay angled against the curb and across the hood of a parked pod.

Can you believe that storm? It was the foreman, who had a black eye and was holding one arm limply.

Boggin’ lucky, chimed in another worker as the remaining crew converged on the gate area. I thought we were all done for.

Lucky, hell, said another one. The gods were watching out for us.

They all stood and surveyed the street again.

I need a drink, said Deez.

The foreman ran a hand through his hair, blinked several times, then shook his head. We’re not going to get anything done today. Go ahead. Sirens were wailing in the distance, growing closer. Think you deserve it. We’ll deal with this mess.

Deez grabbed Honaia by the arm. C’mon woman, he said. It wasn’t that far off quitting time anyway.

She looked dazed as they began wandering off down the street. Dazed and tired.

So that was better than a bar fight, huh? Deez grinned at her.

She looked up at him darkly and didn’t answer.

What, too much excitement?

I’m just tired, she said.

Well, Deez punched her gently in the shoulder. She only stumbled a little. You’ll feel better soon. We’re meeting up with your favorite rock band for drinks, remember?

Honaia cursed under her breath again. Deez frowned. She really was in a bad mood.

Pausing a few steps through the doorway of The Hole, Honaia allowed her eyes to adjust to the low-key interior of the bar. It was nothing fancy, nothing flashy. Just another place to get drinks.

From their various seats at faerie-couches attached to standard-sized-person booth seating, the members of Sonic Burp began waving and gesticulating for the two newcomers to join them. Honaia felt like her heart was being sucked out slowly through a straw. She took a deep breath, smiled, and walked over. Hey guys, she said in her cheeriest, friendliest voice.

We were wondering if you were gonna make it, said Ripplepond, Sonic Burp’s guitarist, gesturing for the barmaid. There were four of them in the

band—

Ripplepond, Feather, Bogweed, and

Jax—

plus their manager, Crookedwing, his wife, Jazzstep, and Jax’s girlfriend, Nettle.

Boggin’ work. Deez shrugged, then made himself comfortable, sliding into a seat at the booth.

Honaia scooted in beside him quietly. He’d instructed her not to mention the riot, an easy task considering she wanted to forget it. Besides, the less people in the world that could place her in the vicinity of that

storm—

the one she had secretly created— the better. It had been

necessary…

but stupid. She silently cursed herself for being so reckless with her own safety. Briggs would have a shitfit when he found out. Well, maybe she just wouldn’t mention it. Not like she owed him any allegiance.

The faeries were all chatting away happily, but Honaia wasn’t following any of it. She glanced across the table at Jax, who lounged with one arm around Nettle, saying something to her privately. There was a little trace of a smile across his lips. Nettle, all blonde hair, boobs, and bare legs, was giggling. Honaia thought she might be sick.

Whadya want, woman? Deez voice finally broke through to her and Honaia realized the barmaid was waiting for her order.

Anathema, regular. She forced herself to look up at the barmaid and smile. Please.

Deez made a sound though his nose, then muttered, Guess it’s that kinda day.

Indeed it was. And aside from the fact that anathema was one of her favorite drinks, there was a certain

comfort—

a connection that she was currently

missing—

in the honeyed taste and the warmth sliding down her throat. Her mind lingered gingerly over an image of the first time she’d had it.

It was only a moment before their drinks were out and Honaia stared down at the tiny glass of amber liquid. She picked up the plastic pick and twirled it in her fingers, remembering Jax wielding one like a sword, laughingly,

drunkenly…

. Sharing stories, jokes, fears, hopes. That was the first time she’d met

him—

while she was waitressing at Tugrub’s Grub ’n’ Nog, and Sonic Burp was performing. She remembered all the details of that night with a sort of warm and fuzzy nostalgia. But he didn’t. And wouldn’t. Ever.

Nor would he remember all the things that happened between that night and the night that he thought was the first time they’d met. A night when storms raged, and chaos ripped across the streets of Reliance. When wars were kindled anew and portals to other realities were closed. When Honaia, disheveled and exhausted, joined Deez at The Pit for drinks, with the wild hopes of finding something precious she’d lost. And found Jax. And Nettle. Fuck.

She picked up the tiny glass and downed it like a shot. You weren’t meant to do that. For a reason. She closed her eyes against the burn and waited for the fire that started in her nose and ended in her stomach to die down. At least it was a different kind of pain.

So, Honaia. Feather landed on the table near her, smiling. How are the magic lessons going? He was dark-haired with long locks framing the sort of pretty-boy face that was common amongst lead singers. He clearly liked

her…

a little too much. How many times had she heard the

"…

if you were a

faerie…

" line?

Total crap, she admitted quite honestly. She didn’t mind friendly conversation, but it was difficult to talk about what you were supposed to be learning when you weren’t actually learning it because the power particles disagreed with (aka fried) your brain. Especially when you couldn’t tell anyone about it, including the person who was supposed to be teaching you.

She lifted her empty glass and peered into it. I’m just no good at it. I should probably find a different job. Not that that was an option.

You’ll get there, Deez was saying, also staring at the bottom of his glass. He raised an arm and made eye contact with the barmaid. You just gotta relax about it a bit. Give Onus a chance ’n’ all.

Honaia gave him a look and said, Pfff.

I think you’re way better than you let on, Feather teased, grinning up at her.

Honaia shook her head and seized the next anathema the barmaid offered. Nope, she said. So not. She tilted back her head and downed this one just like the last. When things quit burning so badly, the world was thankfully a bit fuzzier. But not quite fuzzy enough. Across the table, Nettle was still giggling, and Jax’ mischievous blue eyes were lit with the glow from his broad smile. Honaia used to love it when he smiled.

It don’t help that Onus ain’t got much time, Deez was commiserating. That ain’t your fault. He’ll get to it. You’ll see.

Some sort of heaviness in the troll’s comment made Honaia narrow her eyes to peer at him.

He glanced up. What?

Nothin’. Honaia shook her head. Was it worry she had heard? She shook her head again and turned to look for the barmaid. She had enough to think about.

Before her next drink could come, Feather had hold of her hand, each of his tiny faerie hands to one side of her palm, his body in between her two middle fingers. I’ll read your palm. He smiled up at her from a head tilted to the side.

Honaia peered down at him. He was kind of cute. ’zat so? What the hell was she thinking?

He was intently studying the lines in her hand already. Yep, he said. Faerie magic.

Honaia raised her eyebrows. Well, that’s something I didn’t know about faeries. She inadvertently glanced across at Jax, then pulled her eyes straight back, nearly flinching. How could he kiss her? The question pounded in Honaia’s brain. Even slightly inebriated, she knew the answer. But her heart rejected it. She wondered where her drink was.

Oh, I’m sure I could teach you a lot. Feather traced his hand along one of the lines of her palm. Was he for real? Interesting. He raised his eyebrows. "I never would have

thought…

."

Honaia looked around again for her drink.

"There’s nothing about careers,

but…

a dark and mysterious man will come into your life,

and…

"

It’s supposed to be ‘tall, dark, and mysterious,’ Deez corrected, nudging Honaia surreptitiously with one elbow.

Feather frowned at Honaia’s palm. No. I don’t see ‘tall’. He flashed Honaia a quick grin. "But I do

see—

"

Psh. Deez hailed the barmaid once again. That ain’t no fortune. I’ll tell you her fortune. He leveled his gaze at Honaia. She’s gonna get piss drunk and her partner’s gonna have to haul her ass home.

Honaia shrugged acquiescence. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened the other way around.

The barmaid plopped their drinks on the table. Honaia picked up her glass, clinked it with Deez’, and they both drank up.

On her fourth anathema, Deez cautioned her to slow down. But she honestly didn’t know if she could get another one all the way to her mouth. They’d reduced themselves to stupid jokes and giggles that made little sense, and Feather had even backed off a bit. The whole party was roughly in the same state, and there was little logic to follow.

Honaia pouted as Nettle pulled a stumbling Jax to the table and coerced

him—

right there in front of

her—

into dancing. Honaia tried taking deep breaths but found herself grinding her teeth instead. Inside, she was seething. If only she

could…

. but no.

D? she mumbled, which was about the best she could manage at that moment.

Yup. He was sitting a little crooked, and she was semi-slumped against his massive shoulder.

Know how you owe me one?

He grunted acknowledgment.

There was a pause. Sit on her? The thought vaguely occurred to Honaia that she might be giving too much away, or that he might not understand

anyway…

.

Deez was either thinking about it, or there was a slight delay in brain processing. Finally, he asked, Did you say ‘sit’ or ‘shit’?

Honaia blinked, then broke out in giggles. The two of them laughed so hard they almost sank under the table. Then they laughed some more. The image carried Honaia gleefully through the rest of the

night—

straight through the part where she and Deez stumbled through the high-rise office building to their respective rooms. As she lay in bed, Honaia continued to

giggle…

at least until she passed out, which wasn’t much later.

Chapter 2: Haze