A faint flicker of a smile crossed her face. “Director Farlance will provide the details and instruction, but suffice to say it will be a cause assignment.”
A “cause assignment” was R.U.NE.-speak for figuring out what had caused an arcane manifestation to appear. After targeting Burt, it was a step down. It mostly meant working with the local sentinel and trying to figure out where and why a manifestation had appeared.
But, there was no way in Hades I was complaining. I would still be working in the field, and that was what mattered.
We both stood.
Wu gestured at the teleportal. “The travel word is Rip City,” she told me.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only sorcerer in R.U.N.E. who was a Portland Trail Blazers fan. The Blazers were the one thing I missed about Portland. Travel words were used when you had to teleportal to a different city, especially over great distances. You didn’t want the door to misfire and send you to the wrong location.
“Oh, I need to see about reloading my spells,” I said. I’d pretty much depleted everything back in Peoria taking down Burt and his minions.
Wu frowned. “If you hadn’t broken orders you’d still have them at the ready for the current assignment.”
I pursed my lips. She had me dead to rights there. I’d managed to drop off the two borrowed artifacts before taking the teleportal. With luck, she’d never learn about those.
Wu shook her head. “You know that reissuing spells takes a lot of mana and a few spells in its own right. It is only done in the most extenuating of circumstances, and this is definitely not one of them.”
Denied. But she wasn’t finished.
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t ever think of taking artifacts again from stores without authorization. The same goes for R.U.N.E. creatures. Do I make myself clear?”
I swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent. Otherwise you will be reassigned to the Library.”
I shuddered. “Got it.”
“Time for you to leave,” Wu said.
I couldn’t have agreed more. Cradling the fly-by-night’s chrysalis in my left arm, I went to the teleportal. The silver dragon scales flashed in the light. The dragon door knocker had sapphire eyes.
It was warm to my touch. I knocked it against the pine, three times. “Rip City,” I said after the third knock. A distant boom echoed.
I turned the handle. A midnight black corridor stretched before me, a Portland street, someplace in the Industrial district from the looks of it, shimmering at the far end. Why couldn’t the teleportal connect to Broadway street, say next to the Schnitzer Auditorium and the Newmark theater, with all those glittering lights? I shook my head, stepping into the doorway.
A twisting sensation shot through me. Technically the teleportal wasn’t a dragon—it was created by dragon artificers, but it still felt like a dragon. Filled with power and impossible strength. I finished stepping through the doorway.
I gasped. I wasn’t standing on a Portland street.
I was two hundred feet in the air above a Portland street.
3
Time slows down when you’re faced with looming death. Two hundred feet above the pavement isn’t far, just ask gravity. Only a handful of seconds before the ground smacked me out of this life once and for all. A scream hung in my throat, ready to explode from my open mouth.
I fell earthward, the teleportal already above me, assuming it was still there. I didn’t want to die, ever, but I especially didn’t want to die from a glitch.
I fought to keep my arms from windmilling as I plunged in what seemed like slow motion. Another half second gone.
No magical creatures to help me.
I was a dead woman.
Let me out, the fly-by-night said in my head.
Save me and it’s a deal! I thought back.
The ground rushed closer.
“You’re released, forthwith!” I screamed. “Fly!”
The chrysalis dissolved in my hand. Huge black moth wings unfolded, tinged with phosphorescent blue. The fly-by-night’s body was human-shaped, topped by a black panther’s head. I fell away from it as the wings caught the air.
Sometimes the rules of magic fail you, I thought. The last thought I’d ever have.
Strong hands grabbed me under my arms, held me.
The fly-by-night’s wings beat the air furiously. My stomach lurched at the sudden stop. The streetlights strobed like floor lights at a dance club, flashing on and off. Beneath a power pole shedding sparks, a figure in a hooded sweatshirt stared up.
The manifestation released me inches above the ground. The toes of my boots scraped against the pavement, and I stumbled. In the time I recovered my balance and looked up, the figure was gone. I must have imagined it in the crazy strobing light.
The fly-by-night’s eyes glowed redly. “Agreement fulfilled,” it said, voice a low hiss. “I am off.” It rose, wings flapping.
My heart threatened to burst from my chest. I doubled over, inhaled deeply, trying to slow my pounding heart. Thank the Gods fly-by-nights were telepathic.
Straightening, I wiped sweat from my forehead. The ghostly outlines of mana shimmered purple for an instant around the fly-by-night before it disappeared in the darkness.
I’d managed to let loose a paroled manifestation in under a minute after arriving in Portland. That had to be some kind of record. Then again, being killed in less than thirty seconds after arriving in Bridgetown would have been a new record, too.
I tilted my head up and drew in another lungful of night air, my heart still jackhammering in my chest. Two hundred feet above me the teleportal slammed shut. That didn’t help my heart slow down any.
Teleportals didn’t do that. They weren’t crafted to open above the ground. They were connections to other doors, normal doors, overlays if you will on the normal run-of-the-mill portal.
Something had gone horribly wrong.
The lighting strobed faster. I drew my wand. Sparks showered down on me, then the street lamp above me exploded like a flash bulb.
I ducked.
