12. Dark Underbellies

Alchemical brews sizzled as they mixed on the floor, filling the shop with colorful, suffocating fumes. Lukas backpedaled, grabbed the sword’s hilt in one hand, and pulled his coat’s collar over his nose with the other. 

“Get the moneybox.!” The shopkeeper screamed. He ran for the center of the shop, but a giant bubble, as tall as him, rose from the floor, surface sizzling with purple electricity. Energy arced toward the man, forcing him to dive for cover. “Get the SHARD!”

Only one-half of his thuggish employees listened. Lukas saw the woman’s distorted form through the bubble as she tried to secure the merchandise. Her skin changed texture, developing geometric bulges and cracks. It almost looked like stone. A mini explosion in her path barely slowed her. She was almost at the shard when a crimson pool caught fire. It finally halted the woman’s charge, forcing her to skid to a stop and throwing her arms up in front of her face. The fire licked at her malformed, rock-like skin. Instead of burns, fingernail-sized crystalline growths sprouted.

Lukas considered going for the shard, but he had other concerns. Only the woman had followed the shopkeeper’s orders. The male guard charged at him. He charged at Lukas, club drawn. The arm holding the weapon looked extra muscular, and the hair on it had grown, looking almost like fur.

Bestial physiology shard?

It wasn’t the time to think about such things. Lukas had no doubt that he’d lose in a melee confrontation. He was still too frail and had no weapons training to speak of. Memories of being badass with a sword weren’t going to do him much good. He turned to the still-standing shelf of alchemical brews instead. Lukas knew what none of them did and didn’t care. He grabbed them indiscriminately and flung them at the man.

“Should’ve secured these better!” Lukas yelled, but the shopkeeper was nowhere in sight. He had seen the man running for the back of the store and guessed the moneybox or safe took priority.

The thug knocked the first incoming containers aside, and they shattered on the ground or on other wares. One did nothing while the other spread a crimson mist that twisted and stretched like it was alive. A third bottle went over the man’s head as he ducked, forcing Lukas to change tactics. Instead of throwing things at the man, he flung them at his feet. The thug leaped over the first emerald puddle, ignoring the fumes that rose from them and then a second. He stopped before the third, doubling over and retching. The man roared angrily, clutching his enlarged nostrils.

“I’m going to blighted kill you!” He roared.

It was tempting to quip, but Lukas didn’t. He fell to his knees and scooped up the essences rolling around at his feet, not particularly paying attention to what he grabbed. Besides weapons and armor, bags, sacks, and camping equipment hung from the walls. Thanks to the narrow store, he didn’t have to go far to grab one. The glass sphere went in along with whatever one-handed weapons he could reach and other small pieces he could reach.

Going out the front entrance wasn’t an option. Besides the ongoing chemical disaster and guards, there was also the matter of being seen at the scene of a crime. So, he went the same way the shopkeeper appeared to have gone. The length of the building astounded Lukas. It sat squeezed between the eastern cliff face and an old boarded-up tavern and storeroom continued well past where Lukas assumed the neighboring building ended.

Crates, more shelves, and cages as tall as Lukas stood in his path. He wove through them, questioning what else the vendor sold. Everything appeared freshly cleaned, and flora scents filled the air. He assumed the worst but didn’t get much time to think about it.

The door connecting the shopfront to the storeroom exploded. An angry, guttural roar followed. Hope came in the form of a light far ahead. Lukas hoped it meant freedom was close. He considered pausing for a moment to knock over a shelf or two, creating obstacles for his pursuer. Then, he realized that if they had no trouble bursting through a heavy wooden door, shelves and crates wouldn’t be much of a challenge.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the shopkeeper said, stepping into Lukas’s path just as he approached the door. Blood seeped from his left hand. The fluid had the viscosity of honey and never made it to the floor. Instead, it hung like a thick jelly. When the man pulled his arm back and whipped it at Lukas, the gelatinous mass turned into a whip with a spiky, metallic spine and tip.

Even though the man appeared out of breath and shape, Lukas was sure he had no hope of getting past him. The shopkeeper likely had multiple shard abilities. It wouldn’t surprise him if the man was speaking from experience, and blood essence had gone into empowering the whip. Meanwhile, his pursuer was closing in.

“How about I hand over the sword?” Lukas asked, flashing a smile. “You tried to shake me down. I wrecked your shop. This makes us even. There is no need to kill me. We can part ways amicably.”

“Let you go?” The man scoffed, swinging his whip again. The deafening crack hurt Lukas’s ears as he ducked. Wood cracked above head, splinters, and dust rained on him. “Death is too good for you, blighted bastard. You’re getting a slave collar and in a fucking cage. Young and sharded, I’ll recoup my costs selling you.”

Another attack forced Lukas to dive into a closet. He didn’t like dispelling his clones randomly but saw no other choice. A man disappearing while delivering packages or researching in the library was bound to raise questions. Lukas picked El-Two. He had instructions to stalk Penelope while she went about her day and was less likely to get noticed—assuming he was doing his job and not goofing off, of course.

It was as Lukas suspected.

Memories of flirting with a shop-girl across from the magic academy flooded Lukas. To El-Two’s credit, the building’s front and side entrances were in his line of sight. It was likely the target of his attention got a fright when he blinked out of existence. Given the endless possibilities with shard abilities, Lukas hoped she’d recover from the scare quickly.

The clone didn’t need instructions. He leaped out of the closet, diving and rolling away from the whip attack before charging at the shopkeeper. “Sell me?!” El-Two screamed like a madman. “Sell me, are you?!”

Lukas peeked out of his hiding place to see the man crack his whip again, landing a blow. The blood construct’s spiky metallic end dug into El-Two’s blocking forearm and shoulder, but he kept going, grinding his teeth through the pain. A blood sphere burst from the shopkeeper’s free hand. It expanded, growing into a net as it flew, but it never landed. 

Dispelling and re-summoning the clone in another part of the room made it look like he had teleported while healing all injuries. The first El-Two was reinforced for strength and toughness. This time, Lukas gave him a speed enhancement, and the clone had no trouble dodging the whip as he charged. The shopkeeper spoke incomprehensible words, and blood seeped up from the floor, the floral scent in the air intensifying. 

Crimson congealed into spiky armor. El-Two didn’t care, throwing himself on the shopkeeper, arms outstretched. A loud crack and several crunches followed as the clone smashed his forehead into the man’s nose and face.

El-Two did it again.

Then again.

And again. 

The shopkeeper released a guttural scream and shouted protests, but they weakened with every smash. He collapsed with El-Two on top of him. The clone slowed as the impact got to him but didn’t stop, even though their faces were a mess of blood and broken bones. Blood constructs ripped at El-Two, and Lukas didn’t wait around for him to die. The pursuing thug was almost upon them, and he needed to flee.

Stuffed stolen satchel in hand, he fell into the sunlight. Loosely covered cages lined the alley, and a set of stairs led down from it to the port below. Next to it was a crane winch, its thick rope swaying in the wind. Lukas dared a peek. The section of the dock seemed secluded from the rest. The cliff-forked shielding area from the rest of the waterfront. A long galley stood in the shadow.

Lukas wanted to come back the way he had come but didn’t know or trust the back roads. Going down and then slipping into the main port seemed like the smarter move. As long as he stayed flat against the wall, it was likely the pursuers wouldn’t see him. He knocked over a couple of piles of boxes, making it look like he had bumped into them, fleeing down the alley. Then, he briskly descended the stairs, keeping low.

It wasn’t long before memories of El-Two’s death struck him. He was already on the verge of falling apart from repeatedly skull-bashing a physically stronger and armored opponent. Then, the rough blood constructs ripped his sides and abdomen to shreds. The clone died when the magic shell containing the shell failed to maintain its integrity.

He was about halfway down the zigzagging stairs when he heard yelling above. It was the shopkeeper and both his goons. One of them, likely the male of half of the hired muscle, barely sounded human. Lukas guessed he had a physical transformation ability that allowed him to take on a more bestial form.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, he had considered learning transfiguration magic to make the clones a more terrifying physical threat but never got around to it. The path and its demands were far too expensive. Obvious physical supremacy would’ve also resulted in Lady Silverspine forcing him into more combat-oriented tasks, detracting from things he enjoyed doing. Now, he didn’t anymore. If Lukas were to become a mage and rely on the clones to act as his vanguard, monstrous bestial transformations would be a perfect pick.

Lukas considered the journal his greatest advantage, and he wasn’t even taking the quests and Inspector’s Compendium into consideration. Tracking one’s power and growth on Fracture was nearly impossible. One had to rely on estimations and instincts. Only diviners could tell for sure. Meanwhile, the journal told him his ability’s exact status. People had to mostly guess what shards would give them. The journal gave him specifics. It wouldn’t surprise him if it also told him how different essences would change shadow clones and all else he picked up. 

It might take away the fun of figuring things out for myself, but it's going to help me power up quickly for sure.

Footsteps above snapped Lukas back to attention. The trio had split up. One of them was coming after him. Given the light footsteps, it was the woman. He hastened his descent, desperate to stay ahead of her. Unfortunately, while he tried to stay quiet and low, she was desperate to descend as fast as possible. Lukas had ignored the rope dangling from the winch above thus far, but it looked like his only option. 

Three stories. I can make it. 

A leap got him to the rope. He slid down several feet, hands burning. The swaying rope went taught, and his heart dropped. If the woman noticed the change she’d be on him in moments. Given the physical reinforcement ability, it wouldn’t surprise him if she could jump from great heights with minimum damage. 

Lukas resummoned El-Two under himself and released the rope. The clone landed on the crane’s platform first, bones crunching. Lukas landed on him, and more cracks followed. He dispelled El-Two before sprinting toward the narrow tunnel that connected the secluded dock to the rest of the port.

The memories of recent pain weren’t as bad as they used to be in his old life, but they still brought significant discomfort. 

A familiar face ahead raised his spirits. It was Stefan. The man walked briskly away from him, down the embankment, and toward the crowds. Lukas gave chase. Even if the woman spotted and chased him down, there was a chance Stefan would ensure nothing happened to Lukas. The satchel also contained enough essence for a hefty bribe, hopefully enough to sway the corrupt guard captain’s loyalties.

The crane’s platform clattered loudly behind Lukas. He didn’t hear stomping footsteps and hoped it meant the woman was still trying to find his trail. It was tempting to run but Lukas settled for laying low and maintaining a brisk pace. Foot traffic in the area was sparse. Hasty movements were likely to attract the woman’s attention. So, he tucked the bag under his armpit and followed Stefan.

Crowds grew thicker and thinned again. Lukas didn’t know the port well. Packages almost never brought him or clones to the area. It was mostly large goods that changed hands, and they demanded beasts of burden. The port master also had his own little army of messenger boys. Lukas also needed the guard captain to find his way out. He didn’t approach the man straight away, unwilling to part with any of his loot unless necessary. 

Guard Captain Stefan paused in front of a narrow alley heading away from the waterfront and toward the rough wooden buildings that populated the port. He did a quick scan of his surroundings before heading in. Much to Lukas’s relief, he went unnoticed. He considered continuing down the wider path. It was bound to lead him to a way back up toward Iskander and better-populated areas. He had enough magic left to summon a couple more clones but saved the energy for emergencies.

“Have you seen a pasty bastard walk by?” The female thug’s voice reached Lukas’s ears. She was close. “He is wearing a dark coat and carrying a brown satchel. Couldn’t miss him. Sickly. Skinny. Looks like he belongs on a plague ship.”

“That’s half of us around here, miss,” a man answered.

Screw it. Might as well ask Stefan for help.

Lukas sprinted down the dark alley, eyes scanning for any traces of Stefan. He heard the man before seeing him.

“Do I have to?” Stefan asked.

“Please, sirs. No. I won’t tell anyone—”

“It’s part of the job, captain,” a woman replied. She sounded refined. “No witnesses.”

“No. No. No.”

Lukas peeked around the corner, scanning the dark alcove. Stefan stood with a woman in a dark hooded cloak. It hid her face and figure well. A large rotund man stood against the nearby wall, leaning against it and picking at his teeth. Between the three of them kneeled a cowering woman.

“I’ll do it if you don’t have the stomach for it, Stefan,” said the man. He stood close to seven feet tall. His belly bulged out of his shirt and hung over his belt, but muscles rippled across his chest, shoulders, and arms. “But it won’t look good for our dear benefactor here.”

“Please, sir. Just take me into custody. Or put me on a ship. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll disappear if you want.”

“I’m sorry, miss.” Stefan smiled apologetically, drawing his sword. Her begging fell on deaf ears. The hooded woman stepped back as the blade went down on the witness. Once done, he wiped the sword using her skirt and sheathed it. The guard captain’s attention moved to the giant man. “Keep your boys off the main market street. The rest of the council is asking too many questions.”

“That’s your problem, Stefan. The Grey Rats do what they want.”

Lukas turned and fled as soon as Stefan turned to exit the alcove. He went down a connecting alley and broke into a sprint after turning another corner.

I don’t think I was supposed to see any of that.

Much to his relief, the alley opened up into a more populated part of the docks. Lukas followed the flow of traffic out of the port and up into Iskander. He made a beeline for his hideout and asked the landlady to send dinner up to his room. It cost him an extra chip since she had strict rules about no food outside of the dining room, but Lukas didn’t want to be seen.

Appropriate training felt more important than ever. It was time to join a guild.