Shadowrun Legends: Find Your Own Truth (Secrets of Power, Vol. 3) by Robert Charrette

Author:Robert Charrette [Charrette, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs
Published: 2016-03-09T22:00:00+00:00

24

Hohiro Sato wanted the stone the moment he laid eyes on it, though he’d never liked opal much till now. The oily iridescence was not his style, which tended more toward the clarity and depth of ruby or emerald.

But this stone . . . To see it was to want it. The opal had a magnetic attraction, almost as though it were somehow a part of him. Before, he had coveted it simply because Grandmother did. And the interest shown by the unknown faction told him it was a potentially powerful tool. But seeing it now, he wanted it for itself.

Its surface felt smooth and was not cold as it appeared. It almost seemed alive under his hand.

He did not understand its potential, but he would. Someone would solve its riddles for him, and the power it represented would be his. How fortunate that one of Grandmother’s agents had perished in the incident with who or whatever had attacked Verner in the gun shop. It had made it that much easier to dispose of the other and to eliminate any immediate claimants for the prize.

Sato contemplated the stone, scratching absentmindedly at an itch along his left forearm. The stone was magic, no doubt about that. He could almost feel its power. Very powerful magic, indeed, to draw the attention of the magically powerful party that had ambushed Verner. Masamba swore that the magician he had faced was at least a sixth rank initiate. The term didn’t have any real meaning for Sato, beyond the fact that Masamba believed he had faced a wizard more powerful than himself. And that meant the third party was well-supplied with magical resources. The level of magic involved in the Weapon World battle was well beyond that of which Verner was believed capable.

Sato wondered how much information Grandmother had on this third party. Had she known of the opposition before she sent him after the stone? Had he only been a stalking horse for her? If so, he would find a way to make her regret it.

Flakes of dried skin caught under his fingernails. He rubbed his thumb across his finger tips to brush the detritus to the floor.

He stared at the stone, ensnared by its beauty. It was more beautiful now that he owned it. What might not be his once he learned how to make best use of it?

Crawling higher on his arm, the itch became intolerable. Without thinking, he rolled back his sleeve to get at the irritation. When he finally tore his eyes from the stone to examine the source of the prickling sensation, he stared with horror.

The hard, lumpy thing that had been his arm was black and glistening with oozing liquid where it had emerged from the brittle flakes of epidermis. The streaks exposed by his scratching were already hardening to a dull, waxy shine. Two long, hook-taloned appendages replaced his fingers and a smaller version lay slightly offset in a parody of a thumb.

He stomach churned and he retched.

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