143. Shadowy Disguises

Fortunately, the Elder Wyrmkin’s tent wasn’t far. Lukas matched the symbol stitched across her chest to the neighboring tent. The Stalker placed the mage in her bedrolls, facing her away from the tent’s entrance, making it look like she was fast asleep. Killing her would remove the risk of her waking up and alerting the rest of the army. However, a corpse and a missing individual were also likely to raise questions.

Lukas shocked her head a second time. The Elder Wyrmkin convulsed but didn’t wake. He hoped it would keep her unconscious for longer. The fluid dripping from her nostrils and olfactory orifices suggested he might’ve inflicted permanent damage. The Stalker wiped her clean while Lukas changed into one of her spare robes before adjusting the shadows to roughly match her face and body shape. Shadow Illusion also covered her insignia, replacing it with a rough version of the Stalker’s supposed master.

“Her breathing is weak, boss,” the Stalker whispered, giving her a once-over.

“At least she’s breathing. How long do we have until the distraction?”

“About two minutes?”

“We have a need.”

“A need for speed?”

“You got it.”

The Stalker peeked his head out of the tent and scanned the surroundings before stepping out. Lukas followed, now walking with his head high and mimicking the grey-scaled creatures’ postures. It left his face more exposed, and he resorted to scooping up a handful of ash from a dead fire and smearing it on his matte, Shadowsteel mask. The pair resumed their silence. The journal would translate whatever they said, but he doubted his ability to mimic the Elder Wyrmkin’s speech patterns.

The pair didn’t cut through the mage’s section straight away, sticking to the edge of the service area. The mage’s area didn’t have just tents. Stone formations, leather spell scrolls stretched across bone franes, and similar arcane props littered the spaces between them. They were far more primitive and shamanistic than anything Lukas had seen before on Fracture. No one seemed to cut across such spaces, and he refused to stand out by doing it.

The only clear path to the dracometal vein was past three large tents around the center of the camp. Lukas didn’t want to risk walking past the Shamin and her seeing through his disguise. If the army had magic users more powerful or sensitive than Penelope, they could also potentially disable the disguise. Instead, he hunted the tent that matched the servants’ insignia. The other mages spared Lukas and his servant glances as they walked. Most shot them with confused or disgusted looks.

All of the mages appeared to put great care into their colorful robes and coats. They exposed their decorated manes and braids with pride. Very few of them wore dirty clothing or hid their manes. Those who did were on the periphery of the mage’s section and worked with corpses or cauldrons. The closer one got to the magical circle, the fewer such individuals Lukas spotted. With his hood up and snout and upper half covered in ash, he, or rather the mage he was impersonating, wasn’t particularly high in the totem pole.

Deep breathing helped Lukas calm himself as they followed the border between the mage and servant sections. Relief only came when the Stalker spotted the tent they needed. Elation followed on encountering its owner, hunched over a spellform. Leather hung stretched across a frame made of bones and wood. She appeared to be working on a protection charm.

Much to Lukas’s disappointment, Bowie and Ace’s distraction went off just as he and the Stalker began to close in on her. Thunder boomed in the distance, coming from a larger entryway into the cavern. The Stalker had spotted signs of patrols and alarm wards in the area. A monstrous roar followed. It sounded identical to the mole they had fought before. The ground shook, and sounds of chunks falling from the ceiling came soon after, accompanied by more roars. The giant mole wasn’t alone.

The cacophony snapped the mage out of her focused state. She spun around, spell crackling to light between her palms. Her electr-blue eyes widened for only a moment. Her pupils turned into slits before she unleashed her magic. Lightning sprang from her fingers, buzzing loudly. Any other opponent would’ve likely collapsed under the raw power of her spell. Unfortunately for the Elder Wyrmkin mage, Stormdragon’s Heart granted Lukas and the Stalker incredible resistance to lightning magic. The Dracosteel Scales, granting their disguise texture, further increased the attack’s potency.

A quick scuffle was enough to put the Elder Wyrmkin down. Her colleagues and servants yelled warnings outside, rushing toward or away from the source of the roars and explosions, unaware of what was happening within the tent.

Lukas had expected his clone to whip together a grand illusion and weave it with sound magic to make it extra convincing and distracting. Instead, it seemed they had driven local fauna into the camp. The ongoing rumble and bestial calls suggested it was an entire horde.

The target didn’t receive the same level of care as the mage they dealt with before. She collapsed with her throat sliced open and two deep punctures to the chest. Neither Lukas nor the Stalker bothered changing into clean robes. They exited, still dripping with blood, and moved with the tide of servants and other noncombatants away from the battle.

People weren’t working as hard to avoid the workspaces between the tents anymore. Lukas also took advantage of them, skipping over stone formations, weaving around spell formations. He identified several runes and functions, but the Elder Wyrmkin’s spell formations appeared significantly different from those used by humankind. If anything, it reminded him of the spells Lady Silverspine used to cast personally. The Great Silver Dragon kept them private and fuelled them using her own breath.

It made sense as Lukas thought about it. According to Penelope, the Elder Wyrmkin appeared to have a stronger connection to their heartflames than dragon-blooded like her or Mira. The fire was also far more potent. As a result, their magic tended to be more draconic and primal, drawing more from within.

The journal buzzed, drawing Lukas’s attention.

Morph Prime: Was that one of us?

Ace: Guilty as charged.

Bowie: We might have to dispel ourselves, boss. We bit off more than we can chew.

Ace: Speak for yourself.

Lukas: Have you been sighted?

Bowie: Not yet, but I think it's inevitable. We’re sandwiched.

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Lukas: Our plan will fall apart if you’re seen.

Ace: Okay. In that case, we did bite off more than we can chew. Dispel?

Lukas: Dispel.

Memories of how the clones had pulled off their ridiculous plan assaulted Lukas, but he pushed them aside for the time being. The journal also had a lot to say.

Fortune’s Favor has reached Rank 9!

Fortune’s Favor has reached the ascension threshold.

Joybringer has reached Rank 9!

Joybringer has reached the ascension threshold.

Shadow clone has reached Rank 6!

Ace reformed in the shadows of a neighboring tent, looking especially proud of themselves. He knew his assignment straight away, enveloping himself in Shade’s Mantle and shaping it to disguise himself as an Elder Wyrmkin. He ran off toward the soldier’s section to cause chaos.

Flukas: Hot damn. What the hell did they get up to? We heard that too, you know.

Lukas: That means Penelope and the Jotun are close. It's best if Mira and she don’t get here. We need to let the Jotun and Wyrmkin find each other and duke it out.

Flukas: Shouldn’t we stay here and provide cover? Just in case your getaway isn’t super clean.

Stalker: I don’t think the boss wants to bail just yet.

Eins: What?! Why?

Lukas: I want some of that dracometal. And maybe give the Jotun a bit of an edge. Besides, Morph will be here in a sec. If all goes to shit, I’ve got him for cover.

Fortune’s Favor and Joybringer reaching the ascension thresholds surprised Lukas. When he had last checked, they were edging towards rank nine but nowhere near the second tier. He didn’t have an essence prepared for Ace, but Bowie did. He checked the ability’s compatibility with the Essence of Tremors. The journal gave him a trio of sub-abilities to choose from.

• Sonic Mastery: Gain sensitivity to and mastery over sound waves outside of the audible range.

• Heart Shaker: Gain the ability to powerfully influence the emotions of others, either amplifying existing states of mind or causing jarring shifts that send them into disarray.

• Power Chord: Manipulate musical notes into powerful, shaped sonic blasts capable of ripping through the strongest of defenses.

It was an easy decision. Power Chord felt redundant given their growing mastery over sound magic. Bowie wasn’t the greatest of spell weavers, but he didn’t need to be. It wasn’t his role. The other two felt much more valuable.

Sonic Mastery left itself ambiguous. He would need to study the power of super and subsonic sounds. He had read about them being used to cause nausea, anxiety, and even loss of motor control. Joybringer naturally made Bowie charming, and he had an easy time infiltrating social gatherings and high-profile meetings without the use of Shade’s Mantle. Disrupting them with nearly undetectable sonic attacks would make him a terrifying tool.

However, Heart Shaker felt more in line with what the clone represented. Currently, Joybringer’s power revolved around positivity and winning people over. The sub-ability would further enhance where he already excelled, but also work in the opposite direction. It felt like the perfect balance. Lukas picked it before summoning the clone. Much like Ace, Bowie also knew his purpose and stuck close to him, pulling his lute from thin air.

Instead of heading to the dracometal vein, the trio focused their attention on the giant spell circle in the center of the camp. Lukas wanted redundancies in case the Elder Wyrmkin came out on top following their clash with the Jotun. He waited until the two most decorated grey-scaled specimens moved away from their tents towards the source of the chaos. At least half a dozen giant moles had emerged from the cavern’s main entrance, and more were breaking through the ground between it and the edge of their tent city.

Shade’s Mantle obscured Bowie’s face, but Lukas could feel the clone grinning. He ignored it.

Few remained in the mage’s section of the camp; most of its residents had moved to the front. It seemed they hoped to subdue the beasts instead of outright slaughtering them. Given the magic he had witnessed from their Shamins and other magic users, putting the giant moles down would be an easy feat. The rest of the mages fled to the artisan’s section, putting as much distance between them and the fight as possible. Rubble also didn’t seem to fall from the ceiling onto the area. Only a few giant rocks landed around the magic user’s section. Most fell around where the soldiers and service staff resided.

Once sure that the coast was clear, Lukas and the clones proceeded, making a beeline for the magic circle.

“How much Quicksilver can you make?” Lukas asked the Stalker, keeping his volume low.

“How much do you need, boss?” the clone asked.

Lukas pointed at the obelisk at the center of the spell circle. “About that much.”

“That's way too much.” The Stalker grinned as he understood what Lukas intended. “I could coat a Shadowsteel copy with it, set the Quicksilver and dispel the steel. Will that suffice?”

“As long as the switch goes unnoticed until we're out of here and halfway home, I don't care.”

“I don't know about halfway. A thin layer of hollow quicksilver doesn't have a lot of structural integrity. The texture and color won't be quite right to a keen eye either. But with everything going on, maybe we can get away with it for an hour or two.”

“That'll have to do,” Lukas said as they briskly approached the target, keeping low.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, boss,” Bowie interjected. “I doubt that thing will fit inside the journal. The space might be big enough, but there is too much junk inside.”

“Right.”

Lukas: Everyone not in the cavern, preferably whoever is closest to the city, I need you to empty the storage. We're going to need all the room we can get.

Flukas: On it.

The obelisk sat in an indent in the ground. A quick inspection told Lukas it was only a foot deep. Lukas laid the journal open on the ground and heaved with the three clones. Dracometal’s lightweight and surprising durability are frequently featured in literature related to it. However, they were dealing with a massive chunk taller than the average clone. It was dense and had more mass than ordinary people could handle.

Lukas and the stalker simultaneously used their body abilities to increase their mass and, as a result, their strength. The Assistant Spindle manifested, extending crimson strings to the pair. A basic body-enhancement spell provided a sudden burst of strength. Lukas’s chest hurt as they just about lifted the obelisk out of the ground. The journal lit up as soon as it made contact. Space seemed to warp as it sucked the dracometal in, shocking all three of them.

“What the fuck? Did the journal just eat the dracometal?”

The obelisk was a powerful artifact. Lady Silverspine demanded its acquisition.

“That wasn't a part of the deal,” Lukas whispered through gritted teeth.

You shall be adequately compensated for the confiscation.

“Will the same happen if I try to get ore or bits of refined dracometal?”

No to the ore, but as for refined dracometal, it depends on whether Lady Silverspine deems it a valuable artifact.

“She's watching us?” The Stalker failed to suppress his surprise.

“We need to sever this connection,” Lukas grumbled.

The mistress finds the possibility and your ambition amusing.

“Uh, boss?”

When Lukas glanced at Bowie, he was surprised to find the shaped Shadow Mantle melting away. He followed the clone's line of sight to a female Elder Wyrmkin rushing at them. A trio of males as big as Shae accompanied her. Her adornments were as elaborate and excessive as the pair Lukas had spotted heading towards the fight.

“Do we run?”

“No. They've seen your face, and we can't have that.” He felt an alien force assaulting his disguise, but it failed to break through his control. “We need to put them down. Can you ensure no sound, light, or signals get to the front?”

“I'll need the spindle,” Bowie said, putting Lukas and the Stalker between himself and the approaching group.

“All yours,” Lukas said, armoring himself with Shadow metal, Steel Weave, and Dracometal scales. His familiar disconnected the crimson strings and drifted to the support clone. “We're going to look like your minions, Bowie.”

“That's alright, boss.” Bowie strummed his strings. “A star is used to being the target.”