Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion (17 page)

And then there were the people. As soon as Mazik and the others saw them, they knew they were in the right place. There were seven figures total, all dressed in identical black robes, and six of them were swaying and chanting in a low, guttural language that none of Mazik’s group recognized. The seventh figure was standing on one end of the platform. They also couldn’t tell what the distant figures were chanting about, though it was clear by the mana swirling around them that they were casting some kind of divine magick. Now there was no doubt about it. They were dealing with a bona fide cult.

Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren stared for a minute, and then slowly lowered their heads out of sight.

“I didn’t see any hostages,” said Gavi.

“Right,” said Mazik. “The other way it is.”

“Definitely,” agreed Raedren. They quietly slunk back the way they came.

*      *      *

Mazik slapped his knee as he laughed. “She sicced the dogs on you? That was bad!”

“That happened to us too,” said Raedren.

“Yes, but now I don’t have to tell the story, which is good because I didn’t make it out as well as she did,” said Mazik.

Gavi waved her mug. “No, that’s okay, you can tell—”

“I wouldn’t want to bore you!” said Mazik quickly. “Instead, I’ll tell you a similar story. Sound good?”

Gavi spread her hands. “By all means.”

Mazik stood at attention with five other trainees while a drill sergeant yelled in their faces.

“You will go through this maze one at a time, and you
will
be attacked. The goal of this exercise is twofold. First, to keen
³⁵
your opponents before they attack you. Do all of you have focus crystals?”

“Yes sir!” said the recruits. Mazik ran his thumb across his Telman ring, and the blue crystal inset in its face.

“Your attackers will try to take your focus crystals. If they succeed, you won’t be able to keen more than a few centimeters away from your body, and you’ll quickly fail. Remember that keening can be obscured by the same things that foil your eyes and ears—walls, doors, crowds, water, long distances, et cetera. There will be plenty of those in here,” he said, patting the maze wall.

“The second goal is to be observant. If you can foil your attackers without having to keen, good for you. Just remember that you
will
be attacked, and if you fight back, you
will
be disciplined. The point of this exercise is to evade. That’s the only option available to you.”

From inside the maze there was a loud crash, followed by an explosion. Mazik and Raedren looked at each other.

“Not it?” said Mazik.

“Raeus, you’re up first.”

“…fuck.”

*      *      *

Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren crept through the building. Along the way they solved the riddle of what the cultists did with everything they cleared to make room for their magick circle—crates, boxes, and piles of junk cluttered every corridor, making sneaking through them a claustrophobic experience.

Mazik peeked into a few boxes, and found them full of fraying tunics, tattered pants, moth-eaten undergarments, and page upon page of dusty paper. It was like walking through a tomb of dead text[iles], the stuffy air made cloying with the smell of dust, old ink, decaying fabric, and abandonment.

A corner, another room, another corner. The silence pressed in on them, making their hearts pound and their muscles tense. They—

Gavi held up a hand. “Stop.”

They craned their heads, listening. There, from around the corner…

“Footsteps,” said Mazik. “Fuck.”

“Hide!” hissed Gavi. There was a frantic scramble, the barest squeak of door hinges, and silence.

The footsteps rounded the corner, revealing a black-robed figure identical to the ones the trio saw before. They didn’t know this though, because they were too busy trying to stay silent while hiding in a supply closet that was large enough for one and a half of them.

Mazik shifted, trying to move out of the way of whatever was jabbing him in the back. Then it twitched. Mazik stiffened.

“Who,” said Mazik, “is touching my butt?”

Silence. Then, “Sorry. That was me,” said Raedren, raising his hand unseen in the darkness.

“Dude.”

“What? It’s tight in here.”

“Still,” said Mazik.

“Shhh!” said Gavi as she shoved her scarf against the bottom of the door.

Outside, the footsteps shuffled along the corridor with no sign of urgency. The three held their breaths, willing whoever it was to go faster.

The footsteps stopped. The trio’s hearts pounded in their chests.

“—
aaaaachoo!
” said the interloper. A sniffle, a wiped nose, and then the footsteps resumed, passing by the closet quickly before receding into the distance.

The trio spilled out of the supply closet, Raedren only barely managing to catch a wayward mop before it fell and announced their presence.

Mazik stood up, dusting himself off. “Okay, that was ridiculous. Next time we jump ’em.”

“I thought we were trying not to get into unnecessary fights?” asked Gavi.

“Don’t care. We jump them,” said Mazik. He spun on a heel, one leg jutting out like a toy soldier starting its march. “Let’s go.”

Raedren started to follow, but felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Gavi.

“…thanks for covering for me back there,” she said, and then hurried after Mazik.

Raedren glanced back at the supply closet. “Wait, what?”

*      *      *

A corner, two rooms, another corridor. They were moving quickly now, their brush with discovery not so much lessening their caution as making them recall the necessity of haste.

A room, a corner, a—

They stopped. Raedren, who was behind the others, pulled up just short of running into them. “What is it?” he asked, dancing back.

Mazik motioned for silence, and then waved Raedren to the corner. “Take a look.”

The three of them carefully peered around the corner. Down a short hallway, past all the boxes and crates and the general detritus of a building gone to seed, was a closed door, and flanking it were two figures wearing black robes.

Unlike every other cultist they had seen so far, these two had their hoods pulled back, revealing them to be men. The one on the left was thick and burly, his face a cluster of scar tissue, dark freckles, and painful-looking welts, while the one closest to the trio was a slender young man, his thick glasses and intense stare placing him somewhere between worryingly passionate and fanatically insane.

The trio pulled back. For once they were grateful for the clutter—it made sneaking around difficult, but spying easy. They huddled together, their minds already sprinting.

“What do you think?” asked Mazik.

“It certainly looks promising,” said Gavi.

Mazik looked to Raedren. He shrugged. “They’re definitely casters, but past that I have no idea
³⁶
.”

“How marginally helpful,” said Mazik. “Well, I think it’s the right place. No, it definitely is!”

Gavi turned to Raedren. “Now it’s Mazik who’s being optimistic. I’m scared.”

“He must have hit his head,” said Raedren.

“I don’t remember him getting hit on the head,” said Gavi.

“Maybe he needs to be?” asked Raedren.

“I hate you both,” said Mazik. He stood up straight, still being careful not to make any unnecessary noise, and was successful save for the obligatory dramatic swoosh of his robes. He drew one of his knives. “Gavi, what’s the plan?”

“I’m coming up with all the plans now?” asked Gavi.

“You are when I don’t have any plans other than ‘charge them.’”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” said Gavi dryly. She leaned around the corner. The door was about ten meters away, and there were plenty of boxes, crates, stacks of paper, discarded tools, and broken furniture between them and the cultists, all of which were ready to trip them or clatter loudly and announce their presence before they could make use of the element of surprise.

“He just knows it’s probably not smart to charge in there for once, or they’ll see us and alert the others,” said Raedren.

“Subtlety is not my strong point, yes,” said Mazik. “Not after working hours, at least.”

Gavi didn’t hear them. He mind was already moving fast.

…that way. I don’t think they’ll fall for the whole thrown-rock-to-distract-them bit. That takes a pretty stupid guard, and besides, we’d have to throw it right past their faces to get them to look the other way, and does it really work anyway? I’ve probably read too many books. One of us could try to go around, but that could take a while, and they might see whoever comes from the other direction and we’ll have the same problem. The crap all over the hallway will hide us for a few seconds, but as soon as they look over we’re screwed. We cooould … but no, that won’t work, not unless we had another person to…

Gavi shook her head, and then shrugged. “I’ve got nothing,” she said, calmer now that she was using her brain for something other than imagining exotic ways they could die. “About the only thing going for us is that they don’t know we’re here. We should probably just charge them and try to take them down before they can call for help.”

“Okay. If you think that’s the best option, then we’ll go with it,” said Mazik. “We charge them. Here, Gavs,” he said, nodding. “You first.”

“…did my answer annoy you? Are you
trying
to get me killed?” asked Gavi.

“I said I’d protect you, remember?” said Mazik. If Gavi thought anything of this, she didn’t show it. Mazik continued. “It’s just that you can’t attack from range. If they see us then I’ll stop and nuke
³⁷
them, but if you’re behind me then you wouldn’t be able to help. In front you can keep charging.”

“Er, I guess you’re right,” said Gavi, mildly embarrassed. She looked around the corner, and then drew her sword. “I’ll go first then.”

“After you, milady,” said Mazik, bowing. Gavi shot him a glare, and then scooted closer to the corner.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
Gavi’s heart shuddered in her chest as she plotted her path. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

Around the corner, the closest cultist turned to his companion to say something. “Let’s go!” hissed Gavi, and then, awash in green mana, she dashed into the hallway.

The two men didn’t see them for a few crucial seconds, their conversation obscuring the sound of footsteps. When one of them did realize—the burly, pockmarked man—he raised a hand and spoke in the same guttural language as the chanting cultists earlier. A jet of deep indigo mana shot at Gavi, making her flinch. She didn’t slow though, trusting in Raedren’s barriers. The mana splashed across her with an angry hiss, but did not get past her defenses.

Gavi reached the slender man first. Dodging to her left foot and then back to her right, she slammed into the cultist with her shoulder and hurled him into the wall. She left him where he fell and attacked the other cultist, Gavi trusting in the others to take care of the slender man.

The pockmarked man was speaking again, another spell forming in his hand, but this time Gavi didn’t let him finish. Dashing forward, she batted his hand away and, in a move she learned in the military, jammed a foot behind his leg and pressed her body forward. He started to topple, his leg getting tangled on her own, and his spell was abandoned as he tried to maintain his balance. That’s when Gavi reached out and grabbed one of his arms, wrenching it behind him and following, slipping her whole body behind his. Steadying himself, the cultist pulled his elbow back to slam it into her stomach, and then froze.

Gavi’s sword was resting against his throat.

“I don’t care what kind of barrier you have, this is going to hurt,” said Gavi. She pulled his arm further back, making him wince. “And I’m pretty sure even if I don’t get you in one cut, I’ll get another chance. Understand?”

The pockmarked man nodded. Gavi flinched at the sudden movement, but relaxed. “Just say yes or no
very quietly
if I ask you anything else.” She thought about this. “Actually, just don’t say anything at all. Mazik, did you guys get the other one?”

There was a torrent of cussing, and the sound of persistent struggling. “Doin’ all right,” said Mazik, his voice strained.
“Stop struggling so much dammit! Don’t make me kill you!”

“Mazik?” said Gavi again.

“We probably shouldn’t say each other’s names. Could be bad later on,” said Raedren, in a rare display of appropriate paranoia. He walked over to Gavi, pulled a shirt out of a nearby box and shoved it into her captive’s mouth. Then he pulled the man’s other arm behind his back and held them together. “Unless you want to kill them, that is.”

Gavi sucked in a breath, embarrassed at her own short-sightedness. “Well, it’s not like—it’s a pretty common name,” she finished weakly.

“I want to kill them,” said Mazik.
“Hold still dammit! I’m fuckin’ serious here! I’ll do it, don’t tempt me, you little piece of—
stop
that!”

Thwack!

Making sure her sword was still trained on her captive’s neck, Gavi stepped back to give Raedren room to bind the man’s hands. She turned to see how Mazik was doing.

Mazik was locked in a fierce struggle with the other cultist, who was kicking and thrashing like a two-year-old who really didn’t want to go to bed. Even compared to before, the slender man’s madness was shocking, his eyes wide, his head bucking, and his face twisted around the cloth that had been jammed into his mouth. He also kept fading in and out of sight, like the picture of a television set on the fritz. Every time he did that, Mazik hit him, bringing him back into focus.

“Need some help?” asked Gavi, her eyes back on her hostage.