Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion (14 page)

There was no one around.

Gavi stood at a bustling intersection. It should have been bustling. During the day it certainly was, and the night should not have so completely shorn it of activity. Tonight though, it was completely dead.

Dead
, thought Gavi.
Poor choice of words. Moving on.

Gavi looked down each of the four streets around her, then picked a direction at random.

Her feet echoed down the empty street as she walked. She focused on rolling her feet from heel to toe like Mazik taught them
³⁰
. Her boots were too heavy and she made noise anyway, but the special step helped. Gavi pulled closer to the building beside her, ready to disappear into the shadows if anything happened.

Nothing happened.

Five hours later, Gavi stood at the corner of another intersection.

To her left was nothing. To her right nothing. Behind and ahead were nothing and nothing. There was nothing. That’s how it had been all night. She had seen a few beggars, a few trash collectors, a few coppers, and at least one thief, but other than them and a few citizens hurrying skittishly home, she had seen nothing. A big fat lot of nothing.

Dipping into an alley, Gavi dug a waterskin out of her backpack. Uncorking it, she took a long drink of the leathery liquid. She resealed it and put it back into her pack.

Gavi looked around. “Gods, this is boring,” she said, and then jumped as her voice carried farther than she intended. Her eyes darted around, searching for anyone, or anything, that might have heard her.

There was, of course, nothing. She sighed.
We need a better plan.

*      *      *

Two men walked through Houk late at night. Common sense would say this wasn’t a good idea, but they weren’t the kind of men who needed to fear for their safety. Fear came from being powerless, and they didn’t have that problem. They were big men, rippling with muscle and fat and with calloused hands earned from long days of backbreaking labor. Neither of them could use magick, but they had never needed to—trouble had a way of becoming past tense when it met their big, meaty fists. These two were more than just men. They were Men.

The two Men walked down a dark side street. On the left was a jovial Man with close-cropped black hair and pale skin, his massive frame stuffed into a flannel shirt like a lumberjack who had gotten lost in the city. On the right was a stoic Man with curly white hair and dark skin. He was wearing a slightly burnt fleece jacket and thick wooden sandals.

Ahead, movement caught their attention. They scanned for it, finding it at the mouth of a distant alley.

It was a hand. They watched as it scrabbled at the cobblestones before being pulled into the darkness. Beyond it were the muffled sounds of a struggle, and what may have been a strangled cry for help.

Seeing this scene, many people would have pretended they saw nothing, and most would have run away. The two Men ran toward it.

Three figures in thick black robes had surrounded a frightened man. Their victim was wearing working-class clothes like the two Men, but he was nowhere near as muscular. The robed figures had him pinned to the ground, his mouth gagged and his hands behind him as they lashed his wrists together.

Though the dark Man arrived second, he was the first to act. Processing the scene in an instant, he charged forward and began pummeling one of the robed figures. No thought of reward entered his mind, nor did it for his friend as he joined in. They just waded in and attacked.

“Get off of him, you shit stains!” snarled the pale Man. He grabbed one of the robed figures, his hand closing around a skinny limb as he pounded it in the face, but the robed figure slithered away and retreated out of range.

Suddenly there was eldritch muttering all around them, and the robed figures disappeared. The sound of movement and whispering continued for several seconds, and then stopped.

The two Men stayed alert, breathing calmly as they prepared. The dark Man got to his feet and wiped the blood off his knuckles. The pale Man flexed his fists, tendons like steel cables preparing to—

Without warning two of the robed figures reappeared, one of them swirling into view off each Man’s side. Their black sleeves swung down, and the two Men threw their arms up to block.

Purple fire roared across the Men’s forearms, burning skin and tearing into the muscles beneath. Neither of the Men cried out—they merely gritted their teeth and moved in to grapple. The robed figures responded by tossing them off, showing surprising strength given the frail frames the Men had found beneath their robes.

When the third robed figure swirled into view behind them, the dark Man was ready. He turned and lunged, his hands reaching for the figure’s neck.

“Don’t move.”

The two Men froze. Even the pale Man, who couldn’t see what was going on, instantly froze, the hairs on the back of his neck raising from a feeling not unlike a crossbow being pointed at the back of his head. This wasn’t far from the truth.

“If you two want a chance to escape, you’re going to have to come quietly and hope you can break free later,” said the third robed figure, his fingers not wavering as he aimed the two spheres of purple mana at each of the Men’s skulls, “because if you try anything right now, I will kill you.”

They stood still in a tense standoff for a time. Then, slowly, the two Men relaxed. Without a word they shuffled away from each other and put their hands behind their heads.

None of the robed figures said anything. The third one nodded, and the other two stepped forward to restrain their new captives. Their hands were pulled behind their backs, and ropes were wrapped loosely around their—

The dark Man moved, stepping to the side so the assailant behind him was between him and the third figure’s spell. He lowered his shoulder, stepping backward and bringing it up to—

Something struck the dark Man from behind, sending arcs of pain shooting through his mind. It took a few tries, but after three blows each both of the Men collapsed, succumbing to unconsciousness and tumbling to the trash-strewn street.

“Nice try,” said the fourth figure as he dropped the cracked fencepost. Spells dissipated harmlessly and burlap sacks were produced.

A few minutes later there was another surge of darkness, and the black-robed figures were gone, taking the three men with them.

*      *      *

“Awww, you poor little guy,” said Gavi. She patted Raedren’s head. “Clearly, you were an adorable child as well.”

“Thank you?”

“I don’t think that’s a compliment right after a crying story,” said Mazik.

Gavi shrugged. “Still true. Who’s next?”

“You, since you’re making fun of our delicate friend here,” said Mazik. Raedren hung his head. Gavi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, fine. What’s next?”

“A good one,” said Mazik. “What’s the absolute worst thing that happened to you during basic training?”

The drill sergeant walked in front of a group of straight-backed recruits standing at attention in the afternoon sun.

“There are two ways to regain lost mana. The first is mana regeneration. Who can tell me what mana regeneration is? Recruit Trei.”

“It’s the passive, automatic regeneration of lost mana, ser
³¹
!”

“Correct. And is mana regeneration fast or slow? Recruit Ven.”

Gavi stood up straighter. “It’s slow, ser! It takes an hour or more to replenish a caster’s entire mana pool, ser!”

“Correct again. Mana regeneration is useful for maintaining continuous spells for extended periods of time—basic enhancement spells, for example. What’s the other way? Recruit Djias.”

“Channeling mana, ser! That’s active mana regeneration, ser!”

“Good. You pull mana directly into your mana pool so you can use it. And that takes how long…? Recruit Yvdāsi.”

“Thirty seconds to three minutes, depending on skill, ser!”

“Thank you,” said the drill sergeant. She came to a stop. “There are other ways to replenish mana, including stealing it from others, stealing it from spells, supercharging your mana regeneration, and transferring mana to others. These run the gamut from common to extremely difficult, mostly the latter. As such, I’m not interested in those right now.

“What you will be practicing is channeling mana under fire. Channeling is easiest while standing still, but it can be done while moving with experience. You will be gaining that experience now.”

The drill sergeant raised her hand, and across the field a door opened. Angry dogs bolted out, heading straight for the recruits.

“Each of you will channel from empty to full five times. Anyone who gets caught by the dogs will clean the entire base for two weeks. You’ll also get mauled by dogs.” The drill sergeant stepped to the side and crossed her arms. “Go.”

*      *      *

The three men were not the only victims abducted after Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren began their search. Nine others were taken, and each time the three would-be adventurers were in different parts of the city entirely.

Three weeks passed.

*      *      *

Fingers snapped in front of Mazik’s face.

“Raeus, you okay?” said a voice. It floated down to Mazik from somewhere far away, like an angel whispering from up on its cloud.

“Is he drunk?”

“No, he’s not drunk. I’ve seen him drunk. He’s not usually this quiet.”

“Something else then. Does he do drugs?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t think he has enough money for good drugs,” added someone else. Several people laughed.

“I can help. Here, move,” said one of the voices. There was the sound of cracking knuckles, and suddenly Mazik was looking to the right, his eyes open and his cheek glowing bright red.

Mazik blinked. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“No problem,” said Tomar, rubbing his hand. He slipped his ring back on, because if you wanted to slap someone awake, it was polite not to chip their teeth in the process.

“What’s wrong, Slick? You look like a mess,” said Rose, with uncommon concern. Or perhaps it was curiosity. In his current state Mazik could barely tell which indistinct blob was Rose, much less guess at internal motivations.

“I haven’t been getting much sleep lately.” Mazik struggled to his feet.

“I bet ya jus been up too late with tha cute girlfriend of yers, ne?” said Jaerfin Jae, the ex-beauty queen whose northern drawl always made her sound unimpeachably polite. Everyone else piled on and began alluding to Mazik’s love life, because if there’s one thing Mazik’s coworkers were, it was nosy.

“Ahaha, you got me. That’s what I’ve been doing,” said Mazik, in the least convincing admission he had ever made. Fortunately everyone bought it, mostly because they wanted to. Chzack, the amiable old veteran Chistt and others subjected Mazik to a round of backslaps and elbows-to-the-ribs, congratulating him on his ability to sleep with his own girlfriend.

Well, whatever works
, thought Mazik as he protested unconvincingly.
Though now I have to hope none of them run into K anytime soon.
He considered this.
Actually, I hope none of them ever run into her at all. They’re all pretty much assholes.

Mazik wobbled on his feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll get some sleep tonight. For now I just need to get some stuff from the armory. Tomar, you mind coming with me in case I pass out again?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Tomar.

“Make it happen
³²
,” said Rose. “Just don’t take too long. We’ve got some major announcements today, once everyone gets here.”

He meant all the higher-ups in management, Mazik knew. They never waited for people like him. “Sure, I’ll make it quick.”

Mazik and Tomar said nothing until they had left the sales floor and were walking down the empty, featureless hall toward the armory.

“So I take it your search isn’t going well?” asked Tomar finally. He was the only person at AIW Mazik had told about what he was doing at night, because he knew Tomar could keep a secret, at least when it was to AIW’s potential detriment.

“It’s going fine. We haven’t really gotten any leads or anything, but we never really expected to,” said Mazik. “We’ve marked off a lot of places that don’t look likely though, so we’re narrowing down the field.”

“This is a big city,” observed Tomar.

“Trust me, I know,” said Mazik.

They reached the armory. Mazik pulled open the double doors and entered.

Ignoring the gleaming weaponry all around him, Mazik flopped down on one of the benches and stared up at the ceiling. He yawned loudly, fighting against his increasingly heavy eyelids as he tried to rest without falling asleep. It was a struggle.

Not even ten minutes later, Mazik awoke to an increase in the chatter from the sales floor, and also to Tomar pushing him off the bench.

“Gweh?” said Mazik.

“Sounds like it’s starting,” said Tomar.

Mazik groaned. “Great. I was hoping it would take longer than that.” Cursing as he hauled himself back to his feet, Mazik dragged himself over to the door. It sounded like everyone on the sales floor was excited. That annoyed him.

“If your friends are as tired as you are, I have no idea how you’re planning to catch anyone,” said Tomar as he shut the doors behind them.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Mazik, stifling a yawn. “One of them is even worse.”

*      *      *

“I
mustn’t
fall asleep, I
mustn’t
fall asleep, I
MUSN’T FALL ASLEEP
…”

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Raedren turned to look at the patient lying on the examination table. His neck swiveled to bring his face in line, but no other part of his body moved or showed signs of recognition—his face remained slack, his eyes drooping, his shoulders slumped, and his torso listing to the side—though his glowing hands stayed hovering over the patient’s severed finger with unerring accuracy. It was like someone else was controlling the part of him that was doing the magick while the rest of him drifted off to sleep.