A Scripta

Grim couldn’t read Chinese, and he was lucky he could focus on anything at the moment after being burped out of the Void. Lue looked at the sign on the side of the road and said, “It says Huangtu’an.” Grim looked back at Shadow, who stood in his human form. He shrugged, a very human reaction.

Lue continued, “Maybe Hwang Chung doesn’t exist any more and they changed the name. That happened a lot during the Revolution, and those maps you were using were old.”

Grim nodded. “Well, maybe they’re here. Let’s go see.”

The village wasn’t really a village, as they could see high-rises sprouting in the skyline. “I don’t know how I can do this without a map,” Grim said.

“Have you ever tried to sense it?”

“I can help you,” Shadow said.

Grim raised an eyebrow, and looked at him curiously. “How?”

“Amplify your power.”

“Like Kalius?”

“Yes.” Shadow looked thoughtful. “But it could kill you.”

Grim threw his hands up in frustration. “We’ll fly – well, you jump, Lue – and I’ll see if I can get a sense of things.”

Grim flew up. He knew, somehow, that he was going to get the arrows, but the details were fuzzy. He landed on the tiled black roof of a house, and Lue and Shadow joined him. “Okay, let me see what I can do…” Grim sat down on the roof.
He pictured the arrows as he had made them, silver with false-feather crests and slightly blunted tips. He had the arrow perfectly in mind, and then reached out with his spirit self to find it. He ignored the souls that buffeted him, and concentrated on feeling for the divine.

He saw two glows, one brighter than the other, and he went toward the brighter one. He noted the house, and counted eight living souls there. Then he went to the lighter one. That one was a store, with two living souls. It looked to him like a typical pawn shop.

His spirit self returned to his body, and Grim took a deep breath and fought back the headache that was going to split his mind in two with pain. He looked at Lue. “Got it. But I think we’re going to have to ask for it this time.”

They lit down onto the street and walked the five blocks to the house first. They were stared at as they walked, but Grim paid it no mind. They stood outside a small pagoda-looking house. Grim rang the doorbell.

An older woman came to the door, and Lue spoke to her in a gentle voice. The woman looked curiously at them, and allowed them in. Grim looked at him. “What did you tell her?”

“I said they have something that belongs to us.”

A young man came out from another room, dressed in a wifebeater shirt and jeans. He looked like a punk. Lue spoke to him, a little more firmly. The young man looked defiantly at him and snapped something back. Shadow moved forward, “He’s saying he doesn’t have it, but I sense the energy here.”

“He’s pulling the ‘You’re not cops’ line,” Lue said.

“No, we’re heroes.” Grim shoved by the man and walked down the small corridor. He ignored the protesting man, and walked right into a room, where a little girl was sleeping on a cot. He reached up and pushed aside a drop-ceiling tile, and then pulled down the quiver of silver arrows.

He could hear the woman gasp, and the young man was now shouting, while the little girl rubbed her eyes as she was woken up out of sleep. Grim gave the young man a glare, then shoved by him again, and stormed out of the house. He hefted the quiver over his shoulder and started walking down the street, not caring if Lue or Shadow were behind him.

He had had it. His anger was palatable as he walked into the pawn shop. He drew a translation rune in the air and demanded, “You bought a silver arrow. I want it.”
The two fat men just stared at Grim. The door opened and Lue and Shadow were following him in. “Master Grim—“

“Give me the silver arrow or I will destroy this place a little bit at a time.”

One began, “I’m not sure what you’re—“

Grim raised a hand and drew a rune of force. He threw it at the fat man who spoke, throwing him against the glass case that held the more expensive items. He stayed pinned down in the glass. He turned to the other man. “The silver arrow. Please.”

The man turned and ran into the back room. He returned about a minute later with a silver arrow, and handed it to him just as the door burst open and policemen stormed in.

“Shadow—“

But before the second syllable left his lips, he found he was already back in the magic room, the quiver still on his back, and the arrow in his hand.