The Wandering Shadow: Chapter Eighteen
18 Will and Jenna were both on their feet(though the latter was still up on the bed). They stared with wide eyes at the book that David held up. The illusionist was grinning widely. "I take it I have your attention then, yeah?" Will nodded. "Well don't keep us in suspense! What've you found?" David strode across the room, handing the book over to Will. He took the tome and he felt immediate disappointment. While he had been expecting a book on magic, what Will instead found himself holding was a book entitled "Lost Histories of the Asian Continent". Will looked back and forth from the book to David a few times then asked, "How the hell is this supposed to help us?" "Don't be fooled by appearances," David said with a shake of his head. "Take a guess as to who wrote that." Will rolled his eyes. He wasn't interested in games. "I don't know. Who?" "Max did. It's written right inside on the first page. Written by Maxwell Greyson. It was his doctoral dissertation. Seems that before getting into Egyptology he was interested in ancient Asian culture. But above all, what did he always study?" Will's eyes widened, ever so slightly as he started to understand. "Magic." David nodded. "Even though that was tucked away among the history books, it tells about the effects of magic on the developments and cultures of various Asian nations." "So what did you find in there that'll help us? I mean, surely long dead practices won't be much help to us. Not to mention that I highly doubt that Max gave detailed explanations on how they used their abilities." David shook his head. "No, not really. But what he does give is...well it's rather hard to put into exact words. See, this book is divided into sections, each one dealing with a different country. And what I found was..." David struggled to find the words then finally settled for grabbing the book from Will and opening it to a specific page. He pointed to a spot about halfway down and said "Start reading there," as he handed it to Will. Will seemed more than a bit uncertain--and indeed he was--but still he looked down to where David had pointed, and began to read. ...and while proof has never been completely conclusive, it is undeniable that the evidence does point to the existence of these monasteries. As well known as it is that energy manipulation is older than we know, so must we accept that there are those who have spent millennia mastering the arts behind the magic. It must also be believed possible that the ancient masters could pass on their teachings over generations, and that their intellectual descendants could still exist today. It is more than likely that more than one of these legendary monasteries exists, and can be found in secluded areas of the Himalayan mountain range... Will shook his head. "I don't understand. What's the point of this?" David sighed. "Alright, what Max was trying to say there is that there could be places in the Himalayas where people have secluded themselves, spending years mastering all different kinds of magic. So, I figure, who's to say that there isn't someone among them who could help you two, eh?" Will closed the book and handed it back to David. "I appreciate your enthusiasm and all, but where's the proof? I don't think I want to be traveling to a place as inhospitable as Tibet--" "Actually Max suggests that the monasteries are more in the Nepal area of the range." "That's not my point, and you know it. I don't want to travel somewhere so inhospitable without any kind of certainty or guarantees about what we'll find there." David's shoulders dropped and he gave Will a disbelieving look. "Seriously? You want a bloody guarantee? Did you have any certainty when you went to England? Did you know for sure that coming to Egypt would do you any good?" "Well no, but--" "Besides, I knew Max pretty damn well. He wouldn't have studied something if he didn't think it was worth knowing. He wouldn't have suggested that these places still existed unless he believed that they did. True, he was the type who would believe things that others would believe impossible, but in the world we live in, nothing is really impossible anymore, is it? I mean just look at the two of you! Who would honestly believe that people like you and Jenna were possible unless they knew you? I certainly wouldn't. So--" "Alright!" Will snapped. "You've made your point." "Oh...so er...what do you say then?" Will sat down beside Jenna on the bed. "I...I don't know. It seems like so far to go for something that may not pan out." "Yeah, maybe. But do you have much choice at this point?" Will knew they didn't. After all that searching, this seemed to be the only thing they had found that could be potentially helpful. He turned to Jenna. "What do you think?" he asked her. "Should we go?" All the time they had been talking, she had listened carefully, and considered everything said. There really is nothing to consider though, she thought. Jenna's eyes showed fire and steel as she nodded, saying in the only way she could that she did believe it was the best course of action. "Well, I suppose that settles it then." Turning back to look at David, Will asked, "When can we be ready to leave?" "Any time really. We don't really have anything to pack so...yeah anytime. Oh, though it would probably be better for us to leave at night." That last bit confused both Will and Jenna, leading the former to ask, "Why at night?" "Well, for one thing, the streets won't be crowded so we can get out faster. More importantly though, we can avoid the publicity and attention that you two would garner from traveling in broad daylight." More confusion. "I'm sorry...what?" "Oh yeah, you don't know, do you?" David chuckled. "Well, I guess it was a bit hard for you to keep up with the news while you were unconscious, eh? Wait here. I'll be right back." He darted out of the room, leaving Will and Jenna with naught but more confusion. He popped back into the room a few minutes later, carrying a stack of newspapers under one arm, and a pair of glasses in the opposite hand. He handed the stack and the glasses to Will and said, "Just read these, and you'll get an idea. Most of these came out just a few days after you dealt with the Shadow of Anubis." Will glanced at the newspapers and knew he couldn't read them, written in Arabic as they were. It only took him half a second to realize that was the reason for David bringing the glasses. He slipped the lenses over his eyes and was astounded to see the text on the page shimmer and flicker for just a few seconds before becoming still again. Now though the text appeared to be in English. He started reading with the earliest paper, stopping for only a moment when David said that he only needed to focus on the main story for each paper. As he read he saw that a general theme ran through them all. It seemed as though M.E.L.D. had been unable to cover up the existence of the Shadow of Anubis--not surprising, considering how many people had died in the event. What hadn't been revealed though was exactly how the Shadow had been stopped. All that was known was that a single person was responsible for its demise--a bit of misinformation, but not technically wrong, Will thought. What really caught his attention though was when the papers began to speculate on the identity of the one who had taken down the Shadow. One paper speculated that it was a nomadic wanderer who was traveling the world on some personal quest, and had simply happened to be present to stop the Shadow. Will couldn't help but note that that theory was oddly accurate. Then another paper had a more fanciful idea. It claimed he was a man born of the shadows who fought shadows, trying to bring balance to the chaos. Will actually laughed at that one. True, he did try to keep peace--it was his job, after all--but he wasn't exactly as described. There were a few other theories, but those two were the ones that people had seemed to latch onto. As he shifted through the papers he noted that near the bottom of the stack, where the slightly more recent papers were, the two theories had somehow become intertwined. At that point the papers all started referring to him as-- "The Wandering Shadow?" Will had to fight to keep a straight face. "What kind of ridiculous name is that?" Jenna, unable to read without the aid of the glasses, looked at him oddly. What is he talking about? Seeing the look on her face, Will spread the papers out in front of her, took off the glasses, and put them on her, sliding them down her snout until her eyes could focus on the pages. She read through them all quickly, and when she realized just what he had been referring to, she laughed. David smirked. "So yeah, you're a bit famous. They gave you that moniker 'cause they don't know your real name. M.E.L.D. refused to give it out. And yet, some of the papers have a pretty good description of you. Dark cloak. Sword at your hip. White wolf by your side. Oddly, there's no mention of a clever British illusionist who charms all who meet him." "Well, they probably wanted to avoid ruining your public image," Will commented dryly. "Still, this is pretty amazing, in its own way. But...I can't say I really want to be famous." David nodded. 'That's why we should leave at night. No one'll see us go." "Agreed. Tonight then?" "If you feel ready." David shrugged. "We can leave anytime really. If you wanna take a few more days to rest and heal, we can do that." Will considered it for a moment then shook his head. "We've sat around for long enough. It's time to leave." Jenna nodded in agreement. Now that they had a goal in mind, she was itching to get going. "Tonight it is then."
Quentin sighed softly as he stuffed the last of his materials into his leather shoulder bag. He hoisted the bag and walked out the door of his office, hardly paying any attention to the officers he passed on his way out of M.E.L.D.'s building. He had heard them whispering. He saw them stare. They said he was losing his mind. They said he had become a nervous wreck. They said he was losing his grip on reality. Some were worried he couldn't be trusted with his job anymore. And, he admitted, they're right. In recent weeks he had lost sleep. A lot of sleep. So much that he had perpetually present dark circles under his eyes. His once fastidious appearance had degraded, his hair grown wild and his face unshaven. When anyone looked in his eyes, they saw an almost soulless gaze. He was falling apart at the seams. It was no wonder though. Living his dubious double life was taking an immense toll. He feared for his life from Carmina, and he feared discovery by M.E.L.D. All that stress was wrecking him, mind and body. He exited the building, walking down the steps and setting off toward his home. He had noticed lately that as he walked down the street strangers would give him a wide berth, as though they were worried by him. He didn't blame them though. He would do the same. When he reached his home he was surprised to see a package on the doorstep, wrapped in brown paper. Surprise changed to confusion when he picked it up and saw that it had come from Egypt. "What the hell?" Who did he even know in Egypt? No one as far as he knew. He glanced around, taken by a brief moment of paranoia. He pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, stepping into his house, locking the door again behind him. Quentin set his shoulder bag down and went into his kitchen, setting the box on the counter. He backed away and stared at it, worried. He had no way of knowing what was inside and--considering how his life had been of late--he wasn't thrilled with the idea of opening it either. Finally--after many minutes of pacing, groaning, and paranoid stares--he approached the box and carefully removed the brown wrapping paper. The box was taped shut, so he grabbed a knife from a nearby drawer and--being careful not to cut too deep--sliced open the box. He opened it gingerly and again felt confusion at the sight of its contents. It was filled with old--perhaps even ancient--papers. Folded, stacked and rolled into scrolls, the various papers all looked weathered and worn. Sitting atop them all was a much newer piece of pristine white paper, folded in half and sealed with a wax stamp. He picked up that piece and carefully opened it, not wanting to cause any damage. The inside was a note, made out in sharp, precise handwriting. I procured these while in Egypt, at the behest of Mistress Carmina. She will be expecting you to deliver them to her once you receive them. I suggest you don't wait, and I highly suggest you don't get too curious about the contents. Burn this note and the packing materials immediately. Quentin gulped. So then, it had come from someone loyal to Carmina. Most likely Logan, he assumed. But what were they? He reread the note. The line about not being curious about the papers chilled him. Doing as the note instructed, he took the papers from the box and went over to his fire place. He lit a fire and proceeded to burn the box and the not, making sure they were naught but ash before he finally extinguished the flame. He didn't know why they wanted the evidence destroyed, but he assumed it wasn't good. He returned to the kitchen and picked the papers up off the counter. For a half second he considered burning them as well, but then he remembered the note saying that Carmina was expecting them. If they never showed up, he would be the one to suffer. He instead grabbed his shoulder bag and emptied out the contents, replacing them with the scrolls and parchments. He made sure he had his keys then left his house behind. Quentin hurried as much as he could without running or looking overly suspicious. He picked up his speed just a bit more when he reached the part of the city where Carmina was hiding out. While he was in no hurry to see a sadistic psychopath like her, at the same time she had set up shop in a rather unfriendly neighborhood. He didn't feel like dealing with Carmina and getting mugged in one night. He reached Carmina's building--a burned out, three story apartment building with a basement that had been abandoned after it had caught fire a few years before. The exterior was crumbling, and plants and weeds had filled cracks in the foundation. What parts of the outside that where still in one piece were defaced by graffiti. The main entrance to the building had been boarded up, but the side entrance that went down directly to the basement had been busted open, either by Carmina's people or--somewhat more likely--by some local criminal. That side entrance was where he went, it being the only convenient way to enter the building. He descended the concrete stairs, steeping into the candlelit darkness of the basement. Most people would likely leave immediately upon entering the room, if they had any sense. Quentin didn't have the luxury of sensible action. He walked a bit deeper into the basement. "Hello?" He said loudly. "Anyone there." For a moment he almost believed he was alone then someone came out of the shadows. It was a woman. She was the one who had healed him after Carmina's torture. She smiled when she recognized him. "Are you here to see Mistress Carmina?" Quentin nodded. In a way, he felt sorry for the acolytes. Whether through fear, self interest, or simply being gullible enough to fall for the promises Carmina--and at one point Silas--had given them, they were all enslaved now. The worst part was that they seemed happy about that. He couldn't help but wonder in they were afraid to appear dissatisfied. The woman--who he believed he had heard was named Ellie--beckoned for him to follow. She led him through the building, up to the second floor. Under better circumstances Quentin might have been fascinated by the room to which Ellie had led him. The room's window had been boarded up, making the only light source candles--not unlike every other room in the building. The other three walls were taken up by book shelves. They were relatively empty, aside from one which was nearly full. Though he had never looked he assumed that they were full of information on many a dark magic. Like the three bookshelves there were three long tables, forming a disjointed "U" shape. The tables were mostly taken up by books and candles, though there were a few slightly more macabre objects as well. In the center of that "U" was a sizeable open space, and the floor in that area was covered in blood. That was the space where he had been tortured. It was the space where Logan had been reborn as a vampire. Though he didn't know it, that space was also where the other male acolyte had died to fuel the magic that transformed Jenna. And currently standing in that fell space was Carmina, a devilishly charming smile on her ruby red lips. She swept across the room, her tanned skin making her appear more shadowy and wraith like in the semidarkness, an effect added to by her pitch black dress flowing along with her. "Quentin. To what do I owe the pleasure? I didn't request your presence." Anxious to be done with this meeting and away from her as soon as possible he stepped toward Carmina, barely noticing as Ellie slipped out the door, leaving the two alone. He reached into his bag and pulled out the scrolls and papers, holding them out to her. "These were delivered to my home. There were instructions that said to bring them to you." Carmina smiled a bit wider as she said, "Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful!" She took the various papers and looked them over. "Hmm. Just as I expected. Some of these will need translation, but I may just find something of use here." Despite himself Quentin couldn't help but be curious. "What are they? "These were taken from a museum in Egypt. If they are what I hope they are they will give me valuable insight on how to--" she stopped, and her smile turned secretive. "Well, I'm sure you'll know soon enough what I hope to learn from them. Now then, I suggest you leave. I have work to do." Quentin didn't need to be told twice. He moved out of the room as quick as he could, leaving Carmina alone. She turned away from the door and laid the papers out on one of the tables. She spent a few minutes more looking them over, her expression serious. Then she smiled again. The Shadow of Anubis may have been defiant and unreliable, she thought, but with this...just maybe I can create a more...manageable version.
It was just after midnight when Will, Jenna, and David stepped out into the chilly night air. As the other two walked down the path to the street, David turned and locked the door. He hesitated for a brief moment with the key in the lock. He sighed and thought, Part of me doesn't want to leave. But I suppose I can always come back. He turned and followed after Will and Jenna, who were waiting for him by the cart. As David approached he could hear Vincent snuffling excitedly. The gray shire colt was sick of being stuck in one place. He wanted to get moving as much as they did. Will and Jenna wasted no time climbing into the back of the cart, the latter snuggling up under the former's cloak to escape the cold. David climbed onto the driver's bench, taking the reigns in hand. Vincent snorted impatiently. David smirked. "Alright boy, calm down. We're going."
From a hidden vantage point Logan watched as the cart set off down the street, ferrying the trio toward the edge of the city. He scowled. He had grown used to a more sedentary existence. He almost liked not having to travel constantly. He didn't want to continue following after them. In the past weeks since the Shadow of Anubis's destruction he had spent time struggling to unlock the piece of information the Shadow had supposedly put in his head. What he had found after much consternation was that he now knew how to block Carmina from his mind. He could still sense it when she tried to contact him, but he could now hide his thoughts if he so chose. And behind that mental barrier he felt growing resistance to Carmina's control. While on the one hand he owed his new abilities and existence to her, he had also come to resent her. She had forced the change upon him without telling him what it would entail. He was sickened by that knowledge. What was more sickening to him was the knowledge that he had once been a sniveling, groveling weakling ever so willing to service her designs. He was now so much more. As the Shadow of Anubis had said, he had been given the power to determine his own path. What he didn't quite know though, was which path he wanted to follow. For now, he thought, I suppose there's no harm in continuing after them. Besides, I can't readily hunt here after the uproar the Shadow caused. I'll just wait...until I can find somewhere more permanent. Logan watched in silence as the cart carrying his quarry turned a corner. He waited for a few moments longer. He then he set off down the street, dodging from alleyway to alleyway as he followed after them.
They had nearly reached the edge of the city when David pulled the cart to a stop. He hopped down from the seat and stepped up to something on the sidewalk. Will leaned out over the side of the cart to get a look at what the illusionist was doing. Even with an improved view he couldn't tell, so he simply decided to ask. David stepped back enough for Will to see he was working a newspaper dispenser. "I didn't get yesterday's paper," he said, "So I'm gonna take the chance while I can. God only knows when we'll be somewhere civilized again." Will was about to make a sharp tongued comment about David's priorities when another voice said, "You make a good point. Just don't take more than one." They all looked to see Sargent Alim walking down the sidewalk toward them. "What are you doing out at this hour Sargent?" Will asked. Mirza smiled. "I'm patrolling this area. Imagine my surprise to see 'The Wandering Shadow' and his companions out on the street." Will grimaced. "I'm not exactly fond of that moniker. I suppose I can't prevent it from spreading though." "It already has spread. Everyone knows it. In fact, there's even a dedicated group among the city's law enforcement who are trying to bring you in for questioning about the Shadow of Anubis incident. But they don't know where you've been." "And I suppose you're going to bring me in then?" Will asked, using his cloak as cover to surreptitiously place his hand on his gun. "I should. You acted as a vigilante, and you also were directly responsible for the death of an innocent man." "I know that. I don't need to be reminded." Mirza nodded. "I'm sure." He was quiet for a moment then said, "I'll be honest Mr. Keller: I don't like you. I didn't from the moment we met. But...because of your actions, the city I call home is safe. My family is safe. For that I feel I owe you a debt. In fact, many M.E.L.D. officers feel the same, seeing as they know what you did. That's why we've hardly provided any information to the Cairo Police. But still, we are technically involved in the search." "So what does that mean then?" Will asked cautiously. Mirza took a thoughtful pose. "Well, I'll have to tell my superiors about this meeting...but I think I'll tell them about it tomorrow night. I don't really feel like doing it tonight, you see. I'm quite tired, and don't want to deal with the paperwork and questioning." Will smiled and took his hand off his gun, instead offering it to his fellow officer. "Thank you...uh..." Will's smile turned sheepish. "It occurs to me that in all that happened I never thought to ask your name." Mirza took Will's hand and told his name. He also said, "But it is I who must thank you Lieutenant. Without 'The Wandering Shadow', we wouldn't be having so pleasant a night. Whether you like it or not, people will remember you as that hero." "I know." Will replied. "Well then, I suppose we'll be off. Farewell Mirza." "Safe travels to you Mr. Keller, and good luck in whatever quest it is you are on." With that he turned and walked away, vanishing from sight when he walked around a nearby street corner. David walked over and stood beside the cart next to where Will sat. "So then...what did all that mean exactly?" Will offered a knowing smile. "It means that things never go quite how you would expect." David just shook his head. "Could you give a more enigmatic answer?" "Probably," Will said with a shrug. "But, for now how 'bout we get moving?" "Alright then," David grumbled. David remounted the driver's bench, setting his paper down beside him. He took the reigns and urged Vincent forward, the colt's hooves clattering on the pavement as they went. Some people would be woken in the night by the sounds of the cart, but quickly dismissed it as a dream, rolling over and falling back to sleep just as easily as they had woken. By dawn almost no one in the city would suspect that their heroes had left in the dead of night. Mirza kept to his word, and after his next patrol he told his superiors of the encounter as though it had happened the night after its actual occurrence. By that time though it was too late for M.E.L.D. or the CPD to do anything but wonder to where the trio had disappeared.
So began the fifty-three hundred mile journey from Cairo to Nepal. Each day was filled with naught but travel and the occasional stop in a city or town to resupply. Eventually they made the decision to purchase a cover for the cart, transforming it into something more wagon like that offered them greater protection from the elements that plagued them traveling while through the arid lands of the middle east. For the most part they were just happy to have some shade during the day. It didn't hurt either that they knew the cover would come in handy at other times as well. Time slipped by as they traveled, none of them really noticing the difference from one day to the next. So great was this effect that it wasn't until three days after the fact that they realized Christmas had come and gone. It was by that time that the road carried them along the northern side of the western mountains in the Himalayan range. Each day was bitterly cold, as could be expected of Tibet in winter. They continued on though, David and Will often switching off taking the reigns so that one could be warm within the cart, even if only for a while--though Will was always the warmer of the two, with his cloak offering more protection than David's trench coat. They had even made a point of acquiring 'clothes' for Vincent that covered his back and legs so that the hard working horse would have some insulation against the elements. Jenna laughed to herself once in a while at how poorly they were all protected. Though she still wanted to return to her old self, she begrudgingly appreciated the benefits of her furry form. Finally, after a month and a half they crossed the border into Nepal and set off into the mountains in search of the monasteries Max had written of, hoping they would finally find an end to their journey.