Shadow Clone Sorcery
Chapter 12: Dark Underbellies (2)

Stuffed stolen satchel in hand, he fell into the sunlight. Loosely covered cages lined the alley, and a set of stairs led down from it to the port below. Next to it was a crane winch, its thick rope swaying in the wind. Lukas dared a peek. The section of the dock seemed secluded from the rest. The cliff-forked shielding area from the rest of the waterfront. A long galley stood in the shadow.

Lukas wanted to come back the way he had come but didn’t know or trust the back roads. Going down and then slipping into the main port seemed like the smarter move. As long as he stayed flat against the wall, it was likely the pursuers wouldn’t see him. He knocked over a couple of piles of boxes, making it look like he had bumped into them, fleeing down the alley. Then, he briskly descended the stairs, keeping low.

It wasn’t long before memories of El-Two’s death struck him. He was already on the verge of falling apart from repeatedly skull-bashing a physically stronger and armored opponent. Then, the rough blood constructs ripped his sides and abdomen to shreds. The clone died when the magic shell containing the soul failed to maintain its integrity.

He was about halfway down the zigzagging stairs when he heard yelling above. It was the shopkeeper and both his goons. One of them, likely the male of half of the hired muscle, barely sounded human. Lukas guessed he had a physical transformation ability that allowed him to take on a more bestial form.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, he had considered learning transfiguration magic to make the clones a more terrifying physical threat but never got around to it. The path and its demands were far too expensive. Obvious physical supremacy would’ve also resulted in Lady Silverspine forcing him into more combat-oriented tasks, detracting from things he enjoyed doing. Now, he didn’t anymore. If Lukas were to become a mage and rely on the clones to act as his vanguard, monstrous bestial transformations would be a perfect pick.

Lukas considered the journal his greatest advantage, and he wasn’t even taking the quests and Inspector’s Compendium into consideration. Tracking one’s power and growth on Fracture was nearly impossible. One had to rely on estimations and instincts. Only diviners could tell for sure. Meanwhile, the journal told him his ability’s exact status. People had to mostly guess what shards would give them. The journal gave him specifics. It wouldn’t surprise him if it also told him how different essences would change arcane clones and all else he picked up.

It might take away the fun of figuring things out for myself, but it's going to help me power up quickly for sure.

Footsteps above snapped Lukas back to attention. The trio had split up. One of them was coming after him. Given the light footsteps, it was the woman. He hastened his descent, desperate to stay ahead of her. Unfortunately, while he tried to stay quiet and low, she was desperate to descend as fast as possible. Lukas had ignored the rope dangling from the winch above thus far, but it looked like his only option.

Three stories. I can make it.

A leap got him to the rope. He slid down several feet, hands burning. The swaying rope went taut, and his heart dropped. If the woman noticed the change she’d be on him in moments. Given the physical reinforcement ability, it wouldn’t surprise him if she could jump from great heights with minimum damage.

Lukas resummoned El-Two under himself and released the rope. The clone landed on the crane’s platform first, bones crunching. Lukas landed on him, and more cracks followed. He dispelled El-Two before sprinting toward the narrow tunnel that connected the secluded dock to the rest of the port.

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The memories of recent pain weren’t as bad as they used to be in his old life, but they still brought significant discomfort.

A familiar face ahead raised his spirits. It was Stefan. The man walked briskly away from him, down the embankment, and toward the crowds. Lukas gave chase. Even if the woman spotted and chased him down, there was a chance Stefan would ensure nothing happened to Lukas. The satchel also contained enough essence for a hefty bribe, hopefully enough to sway the corrupt guard captain’s loyalties.

The crane’s platform clattered loudly behind Lukas. He didn’t hear stomping footsteps and hoped it meant the woman was still trying to find his trail. It was tempting to run but Lukas settled for laying low and maintaining a brisk pace. Foot traffic in the area was sparse. Hasty movements were likely to attract the woman’s attention. So, he tucked the bag under his armpit and followed Stefan.

Crowds grew thicker and thinned again. Lukas didn’t know the port well. Packages almost never brought him or clones to the area. It was mostly large goods that changed hands, and they demanded beasts of burden. The port master also had his own little army of messenger boys. Lukas also needed the guard captain to find his way out. He didn’t approach the man straight away, unwilling to part with any of his loot unless necessary.

Guard Captain Stefan paused in front of a narrow alley heading away from the waterfront and toward the rough wooden buildings that populated the port. He did a quick scan of his surroundings before heading in. Much to Lukas’s relief, he went unnoticed. He considered continuing down the wider path. It was bound to lead him to a way back up toward Iskander and better-populated areas. He had enough magic left to summon a couple more clones but saved the energy for emergencies.

“Have you seen a pasty bastard walk by?” The female thug’s voice reached Lukas’s ears. She was close. “He is wearing a dark coat and carrying a brown satchel. Couldn’t miss him. Sickly. Skinny. Looks like he belongs on a plague ship.”

“That’s half of us around here, miss,” a man answered.

Screw it. Might as well ask Stefan for help.

Lukas sprinted down the dark alley, eyes scanning for any traces of Stefan. He heard the man before seeing him.

“Do I have to?” Stefan asked.

“Please, sirs. No. I won’t tell anyone—”

“It’s part of the job, captain,” a woman replied. She sounded refined. “No witnesses.”

“No. No. No.”

Lukas peeked around the corner, scanning the dark alcove. Stefan stood with a woman in a dark hooded cloak. It hid her face and figure well. A large rotund man stood against the nearby wall, leaning against it and picking at his teeth. Between the three of them kneeled a cowering woman.

“I’ll do it if you don’t have the stomach for it, Stefan,” said the man. He stood close to seven feet tall. His belly bulged out of his shirt and hung over his belt, but muscles rippled across his chest, shoulders, and arms. “But it won’t look good for our dear benefactor here.”

“Please, sir. Just take me into custody. Or put me on a ship. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll disappear if you want.”

“I’m sorry, miss.” Stefan smiled apologetically, drawing his sword. Her begging fell on deaf ears. The hooded woman stepped back as the blade went down on the witness. Once done, he wiped the sword using her skirt and sheathed it. The guard captain’s attention moved to the giant man. “Keep your boys off the main market street. The rest of the council is asking too many questions.”

“That’s your problem, Stefan. The Grey Rats do what they want.”

Lukas turned and fled as soon as Stefan turned to exit the alcove. He went down a connecting alley and broke into a sprint after turning another corner.

I don’t think I was supposed to see any of that.

Much to his relief, the alley opened up into a more populated part of the docks. Lukas followed the flow of traffic out of the port and up into Iskander. He made a beeline for his hideout and asked the landlady to send dinner up to his room. It cost him an extra chip since she had strict rules about no food outside of the dining room, but Lukas didn’t want to be seen.

Appropriate training felt more important than ever. It was time to join a guild.