The year is 2057...

And magic has returned to the earth after an absence of many thousands of years. What the Mayan calendar called the Fifth World has given way to the Sixth, a new cycle of magic, marked by the waking of the great dragon Ryumyo in the year 2011. The Sixth World is an age of magic and technology. An Awakened age.

The rising magic has caused the archaic races to re-emerge. Metahumanity. First came the elves, tall and slender with pointed ears and almond eyes. They were born to human parents, just as were dwarfs shortly there-after. Then later came the orcs and the trolls, some born changes, like elves and dwarfs, but others goblinized - transformed from human form into their true nature as the rising magic activated their DNA. Manifesting as larger bodies, heavily muscled with tusked mouths and warty skin.

Even the most ancient and intelligent of beings, the great dragons, have come out of their long hiding. Only a few of these creatures are known to exist, and most of them have chosen a life of isolation and secrecy. But some, able to assume human form, have integrated themselves into the affairs of metahumanity. They have used their ancient intellect, their powerful magic, and their innate cunning to ascend to positions of power. One is known to own and run Saeder-Krupp - the largest megacorporation in the world. Another - Dunkelzahn - is the most controversial creature to ever have been elected the presidency of the United Canadian and American States. Dunkelzahn was assassinated in a mysterious explosion on 9 August 2057 - the night of his inauguration.

The Sixth World is a far cry from the mundane environment of the Fifth. It is exotic and strange, a paradoxical blend of the scientific and the arcane. The advance of technology has reached a feverish pace. The distinction between man and machine is becoming blurred by the advent of direct neural interfacing. Cyberware. Machine and computer implants are commonplace, making metal of flesh, pulsing electrons into neurons at the speed of thought. People of the Sixth World are a new breed - stronger, smarter, faster. Less human.

The Matrix has grown like a phoenix out of the ashes of the old global computer network. A virtual world of computer-generated reality has emerged, a universe of electrons and CPU cycles controlled and manipulated by those with the fastest cyberdecks, with the hottest new code.

It is an era where information is power, where data and money are one and the same. Multinational megacorporations have replaced superpower governments as the true forces on the planet. In a world where cities have grown into huge sprawls of concrete and steel, walled-off corporate enclaves and massive arcologies have superseded two-car garages, vegetable gardens, and white picket fences. The megacorps exploit masses of wage-slaves for the profit of a lucky and ruthless few.

But in the shadows of the mammoth corporate arcologies live the SINless. Those without System Identification Numbers are not recognized by the machinery of society, by the bureaucracy that has grown so massive and complicated that nobody understands it completely. Among the SINless are the shadowrunners, traffickers in stolen data and hot information, mercenaries of the street - discrete, effective, and untraceable.

The Sixth World is full of surprises, not the least of which is the recent discovery of a Locus by Aztechnology, a megacorporation with a dark and bloody core. The Locus serves as a focus for metahuman sacrifices. It gives the puppeteers who control Aztechnology the power they need to construct their metaplanar bridge to the tzitzimene - demons who live off torture and suffering. When the bridge is completed, the demons will come into this world and ravage it. Aztechnology believes it will be rewarded as the tzitzmine scourge the land, bringing as millennium of pain.

Only Ryan Mercury can stop them. He is an undercover operative who worked for Dunkelzahn. Ryan must take the Dragon Heart - a magical item of immeasurable power - to the metaplanar bridge and give it to Thayla, whose song protects the world from the demons she calls the Enemy. The Dragon Heart will give Thayla the power to destroy the bridge.

Recently, Thayla's power over the bridge was breached by Señor Oscuro, and agent of Aztechnology. And at the same time Ryan Mercury struggles to overcome the selfish personality inside that inspired him to keep the Dragon Heart for himself. The evil part of him that allowed the cyberzombie, Burnout, to steal the artifact.

Ryan defeated Burnout, throwing him into the depths of Hells Canyon, but the cyberzombie reached out and snatched the Dragon Heart. Burnout plummeted into the chasm, taking the salvation of the world with him.

As the cyberzombie fell into the canyon, the powerful spirit Lethe, possessed him in order to protect the Dragon Heart. Like Ryan, Lethe wanted to get the artifact to Thayla, but the spirit had seen Ryan claim the Heart for his own and had decided that Ryan could not be trusted.

Falling into Hells Canyon, Lethe found himself caught inside the cybernetic magic that kept Burnout's own spirit from leaving. Over time, the spirits Lethe and Burnout grew connected; Burnout gave Lethe a physical presence and allowed him to be in contact with the Dragon Heart. And Lethe expanded Burnout's own spirit, bringing him back from the edge of sanity, stabilizing his psyche.

Ryan tracked the possessed cyberzombie, but was unable to defeat him and retrieve the Dragon Heart. In the final confrontation between Ryan and Burnout, they fought to a stalemate until Ryan sacrifices himself in order to get the Dragon Hear back.

It was Lethe who intervened, using the power of the Dragon Heart to save Ryan at the last second. During the fight, the spirit was the truth that Ryan no longer desired to keep the Heart for Himself. That Ryan was willing to give his very life to complete the mission given to him by Dunkelzahn - to carry the artifact to Thayla.

              Now, however, Ryan knows that in order to finish the mission, he will have to contact ancient and powerful beings. He knows he must come head to head against pure evil. This is the only way he can prevent the Enemy from coming across prematurely and ravaging the world.

Señor Oscuro and his pawns have already burned the wedge of darkness into Thayla's light. They are poised to attack her until she is dead and they can finish building their bridge to oblivion.

Now that Ryan has the Dragon Heart, he must get it to Thayla before she is buried under Oscuro's onslaught. Ryan is unwavering in his commitment to his mission. He knows that it will take more than he's ever given, perhaps more than he can give.

Perhaps more than his life.

Prologue

His name was Billy Madson, and he was a boy in the body of a machine.

A boy with a guardian angel hovering around him. Protecting him. Calming him when the vicious memories came rushing back, the violence and killing. Memories of his previous incarnation - a cyberzombie who was called Burnout.

The anger surrounded and buoyed BIlly. The angel was the only reason Billy still lived. The angel's name was Lethe, and he had saved Billy's life. He had shown Billy the images of terrible beauty, blinding light and a song that brought tears to the boy's eyes. A voice of such power and purity that even Lethe's memory of it, filtered through Billy's mechanical body and into the recess of Billy's mind, had moved him back from the edge of death.

Back among the living.

Now, Billy lay on his back, shackled unceremoniously to a metal operating table. Technicians and doctors had probed and studies him, apparently interested in the technology of his body. A few hours ago, they had left the room, leaving him attached to machines that monitored his brain patterns and the electrical activity of his cyberware.

The room was quite secure, he knew. His mind had automatically analyzed it for avenues of escape. He had done this without thinking, the possible scenarios running like a subroutine in the back of his mind, and he had marveled at himself for it.

I am built to kill and destroy. A combat machine. "Somebody’s coming." Lethe said, his soothing voice dropping into Billy's mind through a device in his cybernetics called the IMS - Invoked Memory Stimulator.

Billy opened his eyes to the darkened room. It was night, and moonlight shown through the barred and fenced-over windows, the crisscrossed shadows rippling over the floor and table next to him. Like hatch-marked silver.

"Not the same as before," Lethe said. "I sense stealth and barely contained aggression in those who approach."

Billy yanked  at the heavy  bands that anchored his legs, arms, chest, and head to the table, but he couldn't even turn his head, and much of his connection to his cybernetics had been disrupted by the doctors. "Can you tell if they're coming to kill us?'

Billy sensed laughter through the IMS, “No, my friend, I cannot read minds. I can only sense auras. Here they come.”

The door to the room opened and someone entered, per­haps several people. Billy could hear them only when he cranked up the sensitivity on his cybernetic ears to their maximum. He could sense the slight pressure shift in the room as well.

"Señor, aqui!" The words were barely audible, subvo- calized into a throat mic or headware, but Billy understood what they meant. "Over here, sir."

The Azzies have found me, finally.

Several people surrounded him. Billy couldn't see them and suspected that they had hidden themselves magically. He felt pressure against his chest and a compartment popped open. Then something was jacked into him, run­ning diagnostics.

Billy knew that in his past life as the cyberzombie, Burnout, this had happened to him on a regular basis. Just a routine systems check. The portable deck was speaking to his brain, telling him exactly which parts were mal­functioning, which parts worked, and how much damage he had sustained in his quest to destroy Ryan Mercury.

A quest that now seemed so distant, so remote as to be unimportant. In fact, it was Ryan Mercury who had brought Burnout so close to death that he had lost his identity. Or rediscovered it. His previous incarnation had died in the massive fire in Dunkelzahn's arboretum only hours ago. and Billy was not sad about it.

Perhaps Ryan Mercury did me a favor by almost killing me.

The irony did not escape Billy.

The diagnostic program indicated that his homing signal had been destroyed, probably when he had fallen into Hells Canyon. Another confrontation with Mercury that seemed like eons ago even though it had only been a week or so.

"Remarkable," whispered one of the invisible people standing over him. "He has sustained a huge amount of abuse, but he lives on. I think we should abort termination and take him back with us."

"Si," came the response.

The paralysis started in his toes and moved up rapidly, system by system through his knees, legs, waist. Up through his torso and chest it traveled, the sheer absence of feeling. No tingling numbness, just a digital erasure of his sensory perception.

His taste turned off with a click, then his sight, hearing, until finally he was alone inside a vast ocean of darkness. A brain in a sensory deprivation tank.

Lethe, he thought.

Yes, Billy?

Could you show me Thayla again?

Billy felt the spirit smile inside and suddenly the dark­ness gave way to a brilliant light. The silence yielded to the glorious song of the goddess Thayla who stood on a cracked plane of rock. The light shone from her like a bea­con against the darkness, a wondrous sun in the blackest firmament. The song and the light were one and the same. Her voice rang out, rising and falling in beautiful melodi­ous waves, washing over him like warm surf. Until he cared not who he was and why he was there.

He merely wanted to stay forever.

Lethe's memory of Thayla was flawless, the sensation of the experience overwhelming Billy until he knew that he must join his guardian angel in his quest to help Thayla. The beauty must not be destroyed.

But we're in no position to help, he thought. When we wake, we will be in Aztlan.

If we wake.

23 August 2057

1

Ryan Mercury woke. The fragments of his dream crashing through his skull like broken shards of a ceramic sculpture. A shattered nightmare of sharp edges and cold, hard clay.

Ryan shivered. The pre-dawn air filtered crisp and cool over his body as he slipped out of bed and walked across the chilly marble of his recovery room. In the aftermath of his confrontation with Burnout, he had been given a small, quiet room in the west wing of Dunkelzahn's Georgetown mansion.

Ryan had recently used the Dragon Heart, which sat on the night stand next to his bed, to heal the bullet wound in his chest and the burns that covered his entire body. Now it was time to see what he looked like.

As he moved across the cold floor, he stared into the full-length mirror at his dark reflection—an apparition of shadows. A tattered mummy fluttering in the dim light cast by the reddening sky outside.

Ryan stood tall, trying to forget the dream, trying to dis­card the images of the horrible creatures attacking the god­dess, ripping into her luminous flesh, like acid-soaked razors into unmarred skin.

With effort, he pushed the memory of their putrid stench from his mind and focused on the immediate. He looked at his reflection in the mirror as he slowly peeled off the ban­dages. He unwound the white gauze carefully, feeling no pain as the dried fabric pulled away from his healed skin. The Dragon Heart had worked its wonderful magic, bring­ing him to full strength in the passage of only one night.

Ryan's body emerged in front of him from beneath the bandages. A two-meter chunk of humanity, dense and strongly muscled. Ryan was pure flesh, no cybernetic or biological augmentation. He gained all his extraordinary strength and quickness from well-toned natural muscle and reflexes that were enhanced by magic. Magic that came from the Silent Way—the physical adept path he had learned from the great dragon Dunkelzahn.

His hair caught the dim light from outside, its auburn color reflecting red. And as he leaned in close to examine his face, he saw that his silver-flecked blue eyes were clear. All the bloodshot fatigue had been washed away by the Dragon Heart's magic.

Amazing, he thought.

Tiny hairline scars crisscrossed the flesh of his shoul­ders and head, left over from the cuts made by flying glass shrapnel. It was difficult to believe that it had all happened last night. His confrontation of Damien Knight, his battle with Burnout, his effort to save Nadja. The explosion that had nearly killed him.

Ryan finished unwinding the bandages, feeling like a freshly emerged butterfly, his new skin sensitive and cold in the slight breeze that blew in through the open window. He threw the bandages on the bed and dressed in a plycra nightsuit.

Since I can't sleep anyway, he thought, I might as well get up and run through some katas.

As he pulled a dark shirt over his head, his wristphone rang. He walked to the bedside table, picked it up, and looked at the tiny screen to see who was calling.

The code for Jane-in-the-box flashed across the top of the screen. Jane-in-the-box was the human woman who had been Dunkelzahn's decker for many years. Now that the dragon was dead, she worked for Nadja Daviar and the Draco Foundation. And sometimes, she ran the Matrix for Assets Incorporated, Ryan's team of shadowrunners.

Ryan strapped the phone to his wrist and punched the Connect button.

Jane's persona appeared—a cartoon image of a blonde human woman with pouting red lips, giant blue eyes, and huge breasts encased in red vinyl. Ryan knew that the real Jane, who decked from a physical location deep under­ground in Dunkelzahn's Lake Louise lair, looked nothing like the icon on his small screen. She was rail-thin and somewhat homely, had an acerbic wit and a razor-sharp intellect.

Jane smiled. "Quicksilver," she said. "You're awake, and I must say that you look none the worse for almost dy­ing just a few hours ago."

"Physically, I feel great. Mentally..."

"Something bothering you?"

"Bad dreams," he said. "But you didn't call me this early just to hear about my nightmares, did you?"

"No. I just got word that Hamilton Asylum has been breached."

"Is that where they took Burnout's body?"

"Yes."

"He's escaped?"

"No, but someone just broke in. I think they might be af­ter him." Jane's icon smiled. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks," Ryan said. "I did want to talk to Lethe."

Lethe was a powerful spirit who had alternately helped and hindered Ryan's efforts concerning the Dragon Heart. But ultimately, Ryan believed the spirit wanted the same thing he did: to deliver the Heart to Thayla.

Lethe has seen Thayla. He's spoken with her, and de­spite past differences, he might be willing to help.

Lethe was trapped inside Burnout, who by all accounts should be dead. The cyberzombie had not only taken a high-caliber sniper round through the chest, but he had been caught in the middle of the arboretum during the oxy­gen explosion.

Lethe may have had a hand in keeping Burnout from stepping beyond the pale, but whatever the case, the cyber­zombie had not succumbed to the final sleep. He had

slipped into a comatose state, but all his vital signs were normal.

If Burnout does escape, or is taken away, Lethe goes with him. I can't let that happen.

"Jane, I'm going there right now. Where's Dhin?"

"I took the liberty of waking him; he's enroute to you. Flying the Draco Foundation's new Hughes Airstar."

Ryan smiled. "Remind me to kiss you next time I see you in the flesh. What's his ETA?"

"Two minutes."

"Perfect," Ryan said. "I'll be prepped and ready to roll."

He punched the Disconnect and turned to lift the Dragon Heart from the velvet pillow on which it rested. The Heart was large, the size of a child's head and shaped more like a real four-chambered heart than an idealized valentine. Made from pure orichalcum, the color of bronze-tinted gold, and enchanted by some unknown magic, the Dragon Heart was the most powerful object Ryan had ever en­countered.

Mana seemed to flow through it like a lens, channeled from astral space and focused wherever the Heart's wielder wished. Ryan had used its magic to accentuate and increase his own abilities, but he would no longer try to keep it for himself, no matter how much its power enticed him. It had another destiny.

Ryan placed the Dragon Heart into a pouch that he at­tached to a broad sash tied around his waist. When it was secure, he dug through the closet for his running gear. He found his flexible Kevlar Ill-slatted light body armor, which he pulled over his nightsuit.

He gathered up his carry bag and moved out, angling toward the helipad behind the house. He moved quickly out into the hall and down past the library. He walked along in silence, looking to avoid encounters with security agents or mansion personnel.

He didn't want anyone to notice his departure. Not right away. If someone saw him, Nadja would find out. Ryan didn't know if Nadja was awake or not, but even though he

desperately wanted to see her, he couldn't take the time to tell her goodbye. Hopefully, he'd be back before she real­ized he was gone.

Nadja Daviar was an elven woman of considerable power and beauty. She had been Dunkelzahn's translator and aide and was now the head of the Draco Foundation. She was also nominated to become the new vice president of the United Canadian and American States.

Ryan was in love with her.

By the time he had made his way through the mansion and out the rear entrance to the helicopter pad, he could hear the deep thwup thwup of the Hughes Airstar ap­proaching. The craft descended in a rush of wind and bone-shaking thunder.

Ryan saw Dhin through the foreshield, a huge grin on the big ork's tusked face. As soon as the helo's runners touched tarmac, Ryan ran over it and climbed in next to Dhin. "We're on a tight schedule," he yelled over the roar of the rotors.

Dhin turned and nodded. "Got the whole scan from Jane," he said, simultaneously lifting the chopper into the air. "We should make Hamilton in three minutes."

"Good."

Dhin sat in the pilot's seat. He wore a loose-fitting black jumpsuit and a crash helmet over his bony skull. A thin fiber-optic cable plugged into the datajack behind his right ear. The cable's other end disappeared into the control con­sole in front of him.

Ryan noticed the glaze of sleep in Dhin's bloodshot eyes. He'd obviously been awakened from a deep snooze. Dhin saw Ryan's look and grinned again, a good-natured gesture that showed friendship and genuine affection. "It's great to see you up and about, Bossman. I thought you were crisped in that explosion last night."

Ryan clasped the ork's shoulder. "I got lucky," he said. "Lethe intervened somehow and pushed me into the water spray at the last second."

As he talked, Ryan strapped on the Ingram smartgun and its holster, then checked to make sure the clip was full. It held armor-piercing rounds. Nice. He tucked the extra clips into their slots in the holster strap.

Ryan looked over at Dhin. "I think the spirit's back on our side. He trusts me now, and I could really use his help. I don't want anyone making off with him."

Dhin nodded. "Almost there," he said. "Jane has us cleared with their security, but it looks like the helipad has been taken by the runners. Also, there're two birds in the air. All Aztechnology Aguilar-EX military-grade hoop- fraggers. Gonna have to do some serious maneuvering to get past them, or to avoid being blown out of the sky if they decide to target us."

Ryan slid on his bandoleer of narcotic throwing darts and his grenade pistol with six-round clip. The dart nee­dles were hollow and filled with a tiny amount of a rare drug called xenoketamine—an anesthetic that acted on the brain in less than a heartbeat, causing loss of conscious­ness followed by wild hallucinations.

"Sounds like our old amigo, General Dentado," Ryan said. "He must have finally tracked down the cyber­zombie." Ryan and Dhin had come across Dentado a few days earlier at the Assets, Incorporated compound in Hells Canyon.

Ryan donned a portable Phillips Tacticom headset, tuck­ing the tiny earphone into his right ear and affixing the pinhead microphone to his throat with mimetic tape. Out­side, the first rays of dawn filtered through the blood- brown haze of the city, lightening the blue glass corporate arcologies and the duracrete government high-rises.

The helo pivoted under the whirling blades, angling across the polluted Potomac and toward Hamilton Asylum. Ryan could see the federal facility now with his magically enhanced vision—a squat eight-story hospital of dingy concrete and opaque white windows covered with steel bars and electrified mesh, sitting on the edge of the down­town cluster. Five-meter cyclone fencing topped with spools of monowire encircled the high-security structure.

A military helicopter perched on the helipad like a giant wasp, poised to sting. Ryan could tell from its posture and the speed of its blades that it was ready to go wheels up at any moment. Ryan scanned the surrounding airspace for the other two birds Dhin had mentioned, but he could see only one—hovering a half-klick off to the south.

Jane-in-the-box came on over the helo's internal speak­ers. "According to the sec-cam images, the runners have taken Burnout. I lost them a minute ago, though, when they went invisible."

"Thanks, Jane," he said. "They'll probably head for the..."

Suddenly, the helo lifted off the pad, taking to the air in a rush. "We're too late," he said into his mike. "They're out already." Ryan turned to Dhin. "Can you get me close?"

The ork shrugged. "Can't promise anything," he said. "But I'll work my miracles, if you work yours."

Just then a third helicopter emerged from behind the asylum, looming up over the edge of the structure like an angry hornet. Facing them.

"Drek!" Dhin yelled.

The floor tilted beneath Ryan as Dhin banked hard left, just as a barrage of bullets sprayed the space where they had been moments before. Ryan watched as the enemy chopper swiveled toward them, approaching rapidly.

"Frag me, Bossman. This bird wasn't made for air-to-air combat. We've got a recessed minigun, but nothing harder. No missiles, no cannons."

"Get that minigun online, pronto."

Dhin nodded. "It's ready to spit lead," he said. "Not that it'll do us much good against these chummers."

Ryan saw a missile launch from the Aguilar, spitting fire as it flashed toward them. "You got any antimissile defenses?"

Dhin just shook his head. "Null chance. This was the only bird available, and nobody told me we were going into a combat zone."

"Take us up and out over the water," Ryan said. "As far away from any roads and buildings as you can."

Dhin flashed him a look of disbelief. "We're about to be blown to bits, and you're thinking of civilian casualties, Bossman?"

They banked right and climbed as Ryan touched the Dragon Heart with his power. He focused his telekinetic strike through the Heart, building mana as the missile rocketed up toward them. When it was nearly on them, he released his power in a massive push.

He felt the magic wave hit the missile with amazing force, backed by the Dragon Heart. The missile stopped dead for a nanosecond, then exploded. Shrapnel and fire shook the air, rocking the helo in the wake of the blast be­hind them.

Dhin looked at Ryan. "Miss Daviar's going to have my eyeballs for dinner if I scratch her helo," he said.

"Quicksilver, are you all right?" Jane's voice. "Please copy, Quicksilver."

Ryan spoke into his mike. "Shaken, Jane. But not stirred." Ryan smiled. "At least not yet."

The sound of Jane's sigh reached Ryan's ears. "There are UCAS fighter jets coming down on your location. I've been told that the military has taken charge of the situa­tion. You are to back off."

"We'll be out of here in less than five," Ryan said. Then he turned to Dhin. "Take us as close as you can without provoking another missile attack."

Dhin glanced over at him, shaking his big warty head. "You're the boss, though sometimes I wonder why."

Ryan laughed. "I haven't gotten us killed yet."

"That's right," Dhin said. "Yet."

"Just get us as close as you can."

Dhin nodded, then angled the helo forward and kicked in the jets, pressing Ryan into his seat. In response to the oncoming UCAS fighters, the three Azzie choppers had turned and made for the Confederate American States bor­...