Zatanna #18 - Meg Ytic, VI: Ecaep

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Author: ScarecrowSid

Book: Zatanna

Arc: Gem City

Set: 23

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    The loud crash of a tea tray was the first sign of trouble. Zatanna and Citrina both turned their heads, quickly, seeking out the commotion. It wasn’t the sort of thing that would normally alarm Zatanna, but these were strange times.

    “Laral?” Citrina called, her brow furrowing. “Are you well, child?”

    Another thump followed, the kind that came from a person, not an object, striking the floorboards. The two sorceresses rose in unison, their bodies assuming practiced defensive positions. This, Zatanna knew, was in no small part to Diana and Philomela’s training over the last year, and she was comfortable taking the stance, so much so she barely acknowledged it.

    Citrina made for the door, but was repelled when Laral burst in, a single-edged saber of solid amber clutched in her hands and a shallow gash across her cheek. The meek servant of moments passed was gone, and a lithe warrior stood in her place.

    “They’ve found us,” Laral said, gasping slightly. Citrina nodded to her, then gestured for Zatanna to follow. A clear amber dagger materialized in the old sorceress’ hand, and she held it at a guard position as she led Laral and Zatanna into the hallway.

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    “Well,” Citrina mused as she made her way down the stairs. “You certainly didn’t hesitate, child.”

    The old woman smirked as she passed the corpses of three soldiers, wearing dark uniforms littered by the shattered remains of their crystalline armor. The dark violet shards caught the overhead lights in such a way that they glowed like the last embers of a campfire. Zatanna bent to pick up one of the shards, but Laral caught her hand and pulled it back.

    “You can’t touch those, Ma’am,” Laral said. The subservient tone had become a deadpan one, and every word felt like a command. “The shards are dangerous if you didn’t summon them, and they’re usually cursed.”

    Delightful. Cursed magical armor that shattered on impact, that was certain to make her life more complicated. There was no telling how many the police department may have been able to stop on their own, or the damage they would have done to themselves as a result.

    “We’re going down to the streets, child,” Citrina said, catching Zatanna’s eye. “They’re searching the buildings, our only hope is to find some manner of sanctuary.”

    Zatanna nodded, but doubted they would find one. Whatever sorceries were at work over the city interrupted the flow of magic, or, rather, it diverted it. She could feel the energies around her, swirling in erratic gusts as they were drawn to the dome overhead. You couldn’t see what is was doing, not without the proper sort of sight, but Zatanna could feel the pulses as it ingested the energies around it.

    The city streets below proved to be less chaotic than she had expected. Where once she had seen large platoons wandering by, now there were empty buildings with windows torn out and doors hanging free of their frames. The odd dog may wander past, but she saw few people. Those she did manage to spot quickly ducked out of view, and the frantic whispers that followed were answer enough to what happened.

    “They’re gathering the people up,” Zatanna whispered, following Citrina past a burning car with Laral bringing up the rear.

    “It is Opal’s way,” Citrina replied. “When he takes a city, he has his men collect every living soul they can and lock them in one place. Then he-”

    She stopped suddenly, then held up a hand and gestured toward an alley between two brick buildings. Zatanna and Laral followed, stepping into the shadows. Citrina held a finger to her lips, then produced a small clear orb and held it in the flat of her hand. Zatanna watched it for a moment, then in vibrated and began to glow.

    The clear crystal adopted an amber hue, glassy and glowing. A voice cracked out from it, and the orb seemed to crumble into a pile of smaller crystal shards, spiking up in seemingly random patterns as it relayed the message.

    “Granch,” Citrina began, “I can barely hear you, you’ll need to speak up.”

    There was a pause, then Granch’s voice came in what must have been a very loud, very deliberate whisper. “Opal has taken the northern half of the city, and he’s moving on the southern districts as we speak. I found two fighters resisting his minions, a woman and some sort of reptile-man.”

    Zatanna glanced at Citrina, who ignored her gaze. “We’ve abandoned the loft, Granch. I need to find a new place to hide, and you need to retrieve the princess. Do you know where she is?”

    “She was with that boyfriend of hers this morning,” Granch replied. “I know not where they went after the dome fell.”

    Citrina muttered something in a language Zatanna didn’t understand, but the tone and expression made it obvious that it was a curse. “That girl is nothing but trouble.”

    “As the one who is often forced to find her, my lady, I must agree.” Granch seemed to share the tone, and Zatanna wondered just how many times the pair had sought out this princess.

    “Can you find her?”

    “In the middle of a war zone?” Granch asked. “It will take time, my lady, and the enemy will have eyes everywhere. There are these new creatures roaming the streets, their bodies are made from solid gemstone, and they reek of sorcery.”

    “Some perversion from that charlatan, Night,” Citrina replied. “Opal would never dare such a thing on his own, and-”

    There was a loud crack ringing through the device, and Granch bid a hasty farewell before cutting off the transmission. Color bled from the crystal, misting into the air around Citrina’s hand in a soft glow. The shards gathered themselves together and reformed the single orb, which the old sorceress deposited in her robes.

    Laral sighed. “Shall I find the princess, my lady?”

    “You may have to, it seems.” Citrina glanced down either end of the alley, then motioned for Zatanna to be at ease. “I believe we will need to venture into the Queen of Fable’s good graces if we mean to survive this conflict.”

    Zatanna frowned. “Why her? That woman is-”

    “That woman,” Citrina interrupted, “has a territory that rivals Night’s own, and the love of the magical community in this city. If anyone has a sanctuary, it will be her.” She turned to Laral. “With any luck, that boy brought the Princess with him when he fled from Opal.”

    “You think the Queen would take her in? They’ve never been on the best of terms…” Laral trailed off, wobbling her head slightly as she thought it through.

    “Crisis is a time to put our personal prejudices aside, I suspect that any sanctuaries in this city will have a motley assembly,” Citrina said.

    “That’s all well and good, but how to do expect to find Tsaritsa?” Zatanna asked.

    “Oh, we don’t need to find her. One of her boys will find us if we make enough noise.” Citrina stepped from the alley, dagger in hand.

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    Boston wept.

    One after another, he watched the parade of souls approach the altar, silent and dispossessed of any faculties. They were helpless, like newborns with no direction as their spectral hearts were ripped from their chests. The howls were silent to the monster doing the deed, but Boston heard every one.

    It was agony, and the sorcery that followed was an abomination. It was not only the fact that they were being tormented that hurt him, it was the twisted work wrought upon them by some damned magic. He watched the red-haired girl, Nimue, as she plucked another heart free, spectral ichor dripping from the arteries. She handed the heart to the man called Brother Night, who took it gladly and held it aloft. The ethereal glow was such that it colored his silver teeth with a teal tint, and the folds of his grinning face were hollowed into dark scars.

    Without a word, he drew a small shard of crystal from his pocket, then pressed it into the center of the spectral heart. He set them both down and took a step back, hands coming to rest clasped behind his back.

    Boston was anguished as the last screams of the specter faded into night, and the low howl of what was coming took their place. The single shard began to glow, and more shards began to grow on the surface, each layering atop one another until the heart was encased and muffled. An orb lay there, a simple sphere that began to roll in several directions at once, being pulled back to center constantly.

    A mere breath later, four small spikes jutted from the orb, and they bent themselves into limbs. A pair of red, glowing eyes, appeared on the face of it, and it propped itself into place, gathering more and more of the shards as it began to take shape.

    This abomination would grow and take its place among the others, charging into the city… ready to hunt.

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    “Another success,” said the man named Opal. From what Boston could gather, this man was a king of some far off, mystical place. Frankly, the entire situation sounded ridiculous to anyone over the age of ten, but it was hard to deny in the face of an army and monsters. “My troops will be well reinforced at this rate.”

    Brother Night smirked, watching the beast trundle off toward a pack of like-formed creatures. “It will be simple, brother.”

    They didn’t look like brothers. One had a regal bearing, the other was more like… well, more like a circus manager. Their faces too, while being equally monstrous, were not of a similar shape. Features were in sharp contrast, and that was just the beginning of the problem.

    Opal was well built, and he filled out the crystal armor in such a way that he seemed twice as tall and wide as any normal man. His skin was like stone, with pale blue striations running left to right all across his night-black skin. It was a curious sort of complexion, but it didn’t match Brother Night’s.

    He was thin and gaunt, and the glowing coals he called eyes were a sharp contrast to the glowing violet of Opal.

    “I will be going into the city now,” Opal said. “It is time to establish a command post.”

    “This hill should serve,” Night replied. “You can see the entire city.”

    Opal snorted. “This hill is too small to house my soldiers, and your enemies have seen us here. I prefer to choose my own ground.”

    “And how will you deal with…”

    “This Queen of yours will be dealt with when I am ready. I will bring her down, then wake our God and take this world.” Opal smirked, glancing up at the walls of the dome. “This world has been too long without a Magi at its helm. I will correct that mistake.”

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    Opal’s forces disappeared into the shadows of the woods below, then filed out on the streets with him at its helm. Night and Nimue continued their work for some time, and Boston remained in the crowd of ghosts, watching their ritual. It was Nimue that broke the silence.

    “He’s certainly full of himself,” she said, one hand scratching absently at her brow.

    “He’s a king,” Night replied, grinning. “They’re all pompous and entitled. Why do you think I left that world behind?”

    Nimue shrugged. “It’s not like you to work for someone else, boss.”

    “Worry not, my dear,” Night said. He took a step toward her, then caught the witch’s jaw in one of this long, bony hands. “I will let Opal and Tsaritsa deplete on another before we make any moves.” His grin widened, showing too many teeth. “After all, they have their armies… but I have monsters.”

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