Shadow Clone Sorcery (Book 1 complete!)

Zwei struggled not to fidget. He felt restless. El-Prime had made him with low mass and a light Steel Weave. The clone wanted to run, use magic, and weave grand spells. He wanted to pull the books and relics off the shelves and study their contents. They radiated magic, and something deep inside tugged at him.

"We need someone dedicated and hardworking," the enchanter said. "The candidate doesn't need enchanting experience, but basic arcane knowledge and artisanal experience are essential."

"I trained under a wizard in Iskander," Zwei replied. "She was the chapter master of the Shadow Seekers." He handed the woman a stack of rolled parchment. They consisted of all the spellforms El-Prime knew and now lingered at the back of his mind. He and the clones rarely used them anymore, preferring modifications and derivations. It was a strange sensation. The arcane scripts seemed to have printed themselves in his brain as he mastered them. "I also worked at an Arcane Smithy for six months, learning how to make magic-infused—"

"What are your shard abilities?"

Zwei manifested Shade's Mantle. "This is my soul ability. It's tier two. The rest of them are mostly passive." He pulled his sleeve up, showing off the subtle metallic grey crisscross of lines under his skin. "My body ability makes me light, speedy, and agile. It's also tier two, and the upgrade grants me minor armoring." The air rippled around his fingertips next. "My heart ability gives me access to sound magic. Finally, my Mind pillar houses Spellweaver. It's a meta ability enhancing my arcane sensitivity, resistance to metal strain, and the active element allows the creation and modifications of spells on the fly."

The enchanter had spent most of their conversation looking over the stack of paperwork between them. The mention of Spellweaver finally got her attention. She looked up at Zwei, eyebrows raised. "And you'd rather waste such a potent ability on enchanting?"

"I wouldn't call it a wasted endeavor," Zwei replied. "I'd like to make the most of magic metals. I believe my weapon, armor, and tool-making skills are just above average. It's not enough, though. I need to learn to make the most of my creations, and that won't happen until I nail the basics of enchanting."

"So, you see this role as a stepping stone? You're not here to commit to long-term employment?"

"No."

"I appreciate the honesty." The woman smiled. "I'm unsure of my needs. Suppose you were to get this job… It'll be a great learning experience. Your role will primarily involve acting as my assistant and ensuring that things run smoothly while I work on several long and complex projects." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Is that acceptable? Some of the tasks might seem menial. Cleaning. Deliveries. Holding things for me as I work. Dealing with essences. It won't be particularly exciting. I don't want you to be disappointed, just in case you thought you'd spend your time working on exciting projects."

"That's fine. I'm just looking for the opportunity to learn."

"Okay." The woman read the parchments Zwei had handed him. "Eins Zwei Zaun."

"I prefer Zwei."

"Shadow Seekers guild?" The woman interrupted.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

The enchanter shook her head. "They're close to the Union. It's useful to have a link." She returned the parchment to Zwei. "I'm Irma. When can you start?"

"Straight away," Zwei eagerly answered.

"No. Get the stench of the road and whatever you fought—"

"Snowmen and Syllicites."

"Whatever. Just bathe and come back in clean clothes. I'll give you a crown for the week. Report first thing tomorrow, and I'll release you by lunchtime. We can also discuss a day off. If you meet my standards and we get along, I'll double it going forward. Is that acceptable?"

"It's low, but I suppose tutelage and guidance will make up for the shortcoming," Zwei answered. "I'll bathe, settle in, and come back tomorrow, well-rested and magic unspent."

"You got it, boss."

"You'll call me Irma. Not boss. Not mistress. Not anything else. Just Irma."

The clone left the building, found a quiet, hidden corner where no one could see him. Then, he dispelled himself.

__________________________

El-Four had no special name to call his own. Unlike Morph, Eins, and Zwei, he was a disposable figure meant for completing tasks that the other clones were far too valuable to accomplish. However, El-Prime hadn't given him a grant purpose or important job like the others. He was free to do as he pleased while surveying their surroundings, looking for opportunities, and identifying threats.

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The only thing that made him special in any sort of way was access to Alter Metal Mass. Currently, he was the only clone capable of exercising the ability. El-Prime didn't just expect him to raise the ranks but also master its base and tier-two functions.

The clone took off at low mass. It didn't just grant him speed. He barely sank into the snow despite the lack of enchanted boots, moving undeterred. When a fence appeared in his path, blocking his progress, El-Four threw himself against it while simultaneously pushing his mass to the maximum. He broke through the hardened, weather-proofed wood with ease. It exploded and splintered, and the clone suffered no injury. The slider moved to its lowest point as he continued, and he simultaneously cast the most basic form of the Haste spell.

"Stop!" An authoritative voice commanded. "Destruction of public property. Somebody stop that man."

Shadows spilled from El-Four's cuffs, collars, and all openings in his clothes. Some had lingered around his face, marginally hardened, and texturized to grant the appearance of facial hair. Now, the mantle covered all of him. El-Four didn't know whether it was because of their growing arcane prowess. The conjuration was starting to take shape. El-Prime and the clones got into the habit of partially solidifying parts at all times. It no longer resembled a mass of swirling shadows but more like a shroud.

I look like the Grim Reaper.

The clone slipped into a dark alley, making a beeline for the city's more cavernous sections. The mountain's shadows provided plenty of cover, making up for the lack of narrow alleys. Unlike Iskander, the Gray preferred a more open plan, preferring larger gaps between buildings. It made clearing out snow and ice considerably easier. Construction became more congested, bulky, and tall as he got closer to the mountain, providing more hiding spaces.

"He went that way!"

The same man from before barked. Unlike the guards of Iskander, the local security forces seemed far better equipped for catching troublemakers. It made sense. Despite the high crime rate, Iskander was a reasonably peaceful city, protected by tall cliffs, a coastline, and open plains that allowed a clear view of hundreds of miles. The guilds ensured monsters almost never broke free of the undercity. Food was plentiful. The criminal organizations were more than willing to keep their activities out of the public eye while greasing palms.

Meanwhile, the protectors of the Gray didn't just have to deal with harsh conditions and scarce resources, but also monsters frequently descending the mountain or coming down the river. Service turned them into combat veterans, and given the worrying outer threats, they had no patience for domestic issues.

El-Four detected two determined pursuers on his tail. There were more, but he struggled to shake the pair. He'd lose them momentarily, but as soon as he was forced to move between cover or leave the darkness for even a heartbeat, they'd find him. The clone was confident in his mastery over Silencing Shadows and the mantle. The spell's potency had significantly improved when El-Prime added sound magic to it. He made no sound, left almost no arcane signature, and the shadows hid him almost perfectly.

Is it smell? Or can they somehow follow the animated shadows?

Relief came in the form of a metal sheet. It looked like the beginnings of armor for a giant or someone's massive pet. He lifted it above his head with both arms, increased its mass as much as possible before slamming it down at the opening of a crumbling longhouse. It seemed to be in the middle of a refurbishment. The metal sheet sank deep into the snow, and El-Four kept going until he felt stone. Silencing Shadows muted the sound of the act. He kicked it before scaling the building. The sheet clanged and whined as soon as it left the spell's area of effect.

"He went in here!" The guard roared. "Surround him. Block all the exits."

El-Four was long gone. In Iskander, he would've easily leapt between buildings and disappeared. Unfortunately for him, the locals were faster and better skilled, and the structures weren't always close enough for him to leap between them. They had devised better methods.

A trio of Shadow Steel spikes flew to the neighboring roof, thick, twisted chords attached to each of them. El-Four reduced his weight and leapt, retracting the shadow manifestations. They allowed him to zip across the gap. It left him exposed for far longer than on the ground, but the guards seemed sufficiently distracted. They didn't come for him.

"Don't let him out!" Another guard exclaimed.

"Two openings only. Enter through one. Funnel him toward the other."

"Remember to take him alive. It's just destruction of property."

"And fleeing interrogation."

Putting distance between himself and the crumbling longhouse took no time at all. He raced up the increasingly congested foothills, and traversal got easier. He still had to grapple across gaps using Shadow Steel spikes and chords occasionally. El-Four loved the thrill of rapid traversal. The method was a product of the Stalkers' experimentation. El-Prime rarely relied on them for much besides reconnaissance, infiltration, and general stealth. But he used them the most, and much like their creator, the shadow-specialized clones loved spellweaving and creation as much as their creator.

El-Prime's instructions initially involved practising long-range attacks and binding techniques. Their arcane manipulation and shaping were prodigal, but projection continued to suffer. The stalkers weren't willing to limit themselves to merely attacking and capturing. As clones that specialized in stealth, they believed mobility was just as important, if not more so.

The clone's eyes widened when he entered the Gray's subterranean district. It wasn't as grim as he expected. Colorful crystals, much like those that illuminated Iskander's undercity, grew out of the cavern's walls and ceiling. The buildings beneath also glowed with the lights of burning forges. Much to his surprise, endless clangs didn't echo through the building. It seemed that enchantments and magic to minimize smoke stacks and noise were commonplace. Only the murmur of countless conversations filled the giant open space.

Theft and subterfuge no longer felt like a concern or priority. He used exploration to fill his time instead. El-Prime would appreciate information regarding the city's layout. He didn't intend to sign up for a courier service. Instead, he wanted the clones busy on self-improvement while looking to trigger Silverspine's next quest. He wanted it discovered and completed as soon as possible.

None of them were done with Penelope and didn't want her moving on while they were still tied to the Gray. At the same time, El-Prime couldn't be sure about what to expect of the city and whether he wanted to make it a more long-term base of operations. It was why he had sent the clones out into the wild.