Chapter 12: Dark Underbellies (1)

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. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. 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, will 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.