Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion (20 page)

Mazik fired on the Head Cultist, and when the other cultists rushed to their leader’s aid, he aimed for their exposed backs. More cultists fell as their enhancements drained away.

“You think that’s enough?” asked Mazik as he forced mana through his tired muscles.

Gavi looked around. Of the twelve cultists that attacked them, only seven were still standing, and, aside from the Head Cultist, they were looking very much worse for the wear.

“I think it might be,” said Gavi. The warehouse now looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland, only not so clean and orderly.

“Good, because I’m running out of juice,” said Mazik. He held his hand open, a sphere of rippling blue mana appearing above his palm. “Let’s rescue the last one and get the hell out of here.”

“Sounds good,” said Gavi as she tried to calm her shaking legs. “Need me to cover you so you can channel while we run?”

“If you would be so kind,” said Mazik. Then he tossed the spell high overhead, and with a snap of his fingers, it exploded, raining light and fire down on the cultists. As they threw their arms up, Mazik and Gavi tore across the warehouse, heading straight for Raedren and the others.

*      *      *

“Rae! How you doin’?” Mazik called out as he and Gavi neared the rest of the group. Behind the pair, half a dozen injured but increasingly desperate cultists were scrambling to regenerate their mana and patch up their defenses before attacking again.

“I’ve been better,” said Raedren. Sweat was pouring off his face as he cast spell after spell, his normally placid expression hardened into a tightly wound knot of concentration and stress. Four cultists had been hammering on Raedren and the others for some time, and the strain of keeping all of the former captives plus Mazik and Gavi shielded was clearly getting to Raedren.

“Let’s see if we can help!” said Mazik, and then he attacked one of the cultists who was casting from range, mana arcing off his knives and ripping through his target’s barriers. The woman cried out in surprise and, after barking a few short words, disappeared. It did no good—Mazik calmly tripped the invisible cultist as she tried to maneuver away from him, and then fired a spell at her tumbling body, which exploded.

Mazik and Gavi waded into the remaining cultists, battering them back, and then green winds swept all around them, hurling cultists away like a typhoon through a poor farming community. Mazik and Gavi experienced only a slight breeze.

“Thanks,” said Mazik as he sheathed one of his knives. He looked at the former captives around him, especially at the ones wielding weapons ripped from cultist hands. More than a few were splattered with cultist blood. He took the sheathed knife back out and handed it to an angry-looking woman.

“Okay, do you think you can hold them back for a minute or two while Gavi and I rescue the last one?” asked Mazik, turning back to Raedren.

“I’m getting low on mana,” said Raedren, who was taking advantage of the slight lull to channel some of it back. “I’m under a third and dropping fast.”

“If you can hold out for a minute longer then we should be able to rescue her, get back here, and then we can cover for you while you channel back to full,” said Mazik. “That work?”

Raedren shrugged tiredly. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll take it,” said Mazik. “Come on, Gavs, let’s go!”

Green mana pressed down on the cultists, and then multiple explosions ripped through those between the escapees and the stage. Enemies tumbled out of the way, and suddenly the path was clear. Mazik and Gavi leapt onto the platform, Gavi landing in an awkward roll while Mazik tripped and belly-flopped. Mazik scrambled to his feet, his knife ready.

Suddenly, the Head Cultist swirled into view in front of them, right next to the altar.

“What the hell?” said Mazik. “I thought—”

“Look out!” said Gavi.

The Head Cultist brought her staff down on the stage with a terrific
crack
, sending mana rippling away. Mazik and Gavi threw their arms up, but they were still pushed back, their barriers melting away as the Head Cultist’s spell battered them.

Mazik’s eyes swept over the altar, the empty platform, and the floor nearby. “Gavs, if you can give me twenty seconds, I think I can take her down.”

“On it,” said Gavi, and she stepped forward. The green barriers around her darkened—even with everything else he was doing, Raedren was still watching out for them—and then Gavi rushed forward. There was no bellow, no one-liner, no stupid war cry. Gavi just put her head down and charged, her eyes blazing green as she aimed her sword at the Head Cultist’s heart.

The Head Cultist invoked three short words and pointed her staff at Gavi.

“Gaaah!” Gavi cried out as mana tore at her. Gathering every bit of power she had around her sword, she gritted her teeth and
pushed
. Mana crackled as the spell burned through her barriers, and then there was a soft
whompfh
and Gavi was through. The spell flew into the nearby wall, exploding harmlessly.

Gavi stumbled forward a few steps as the spell she had been putting all of her weight into disappeared. Steadying herself with shaking arms and legs, she raised her head and—

The Head Cultist said one word, and indigo mana picked Gavi up and hurled her into the wall. She crumpled to the ground and twitched.

The Head Cultist yanked a twisted black dagger free of her belt and turned to Mazik.

Mazik wasn’t there.

Suddenly, white-hot pain washed over the Head Cultist from behind. She reeled, spinning around, and found herself confronted by a lunging Mazik, his dagger aimed at her face.

The Head Cultist dodged out of the way, Mazik’s dagger sailing past her and nicking one of the horns on her headdress. Mazik grinned—and then jammed his other dagger right into her chest.

Mana hissed and spit as the Head Cultist’s barriers held back Mazik’s blow. The black dagger went tumbling from her grasp as she gripped her staff in both hands and swept it toward Mazik.

But Mazik wasn’t about to let up. It was well known that weaker casters could defeat stronger casters by getting into melee range and keeping them off balance. What Mazik long ago realized was that when a caster who’s powerful enough to fight from a distance decides to
get into melee range anyway
, the results became downright unfair. Which was exactly how he liked them.

As the Head Cultist intoned a word of power and mana arced off her staff, Mazik strengthened his forward barriers and pressed, his daggers snaking past her guard for another blow. The Head Cultist reinforced her own barriers, backpedaling as she desperately tried to defend, but Mazik kept pressing, his daggers shredding her barriers with each strike. The Head Cultist panicked as her barriers entered the critical zone, magick lashing around her as she tried everything she could to repulse Mazik, but he kept pressing, methodically ripping her barriers to shreds.

Suddenly, the Head Cultist leapt to the side on a burst of mana, putting enough distance between herself and Mazik to cast a more powerful spell. She raised her staff and—

“Nope!” said Mazik, and hurled one of his daggers at her legs. It didn’t do much damage, but it did interrupt the Head Cultist for a crucial second as she jumped out of the way.

It was enough. When the Head Cultist looked back up she found Mazik barreling down on her, and then she found herself looking at the ceiling as Mazik swept her legs out from under her. As the Head Cultist fell, Mazik followed, leaping onto her as she landed.

“Now die!” yelled Mazik as he brought his knife down, aiming straight for the Head Cultist’s heart.

The blade stopped a centimeter away from the Head Cultist’s chest. It quivered there, wanting to sink into her failing barriers, but the Head Cultist would not let it, all of her strength going into the hand she had wrapped around Mazik’s wrist. Slowly, she began pushing Mazik away.

Mazik smiled sadly. “Nice try,” he said, and then he placed his other hand next to the knife point. His hand was glowing bright blue. “
Now
die.”

The flash was blinding. Mazik poured all the mana he could into the spell, searing away the Head Cultist’s barriers, then robes, then flesh. The Head Cultist kept flashing in and out of sight, trying to disappear, but Mazik had dropped his dagger and grabbed a hold of her by the forehead, fixing her in place. Mana crackled between them as Mazik’s spell tore at the Head Cultist—and then the platform gave out beneath them, sending them tumbling down to the ground below. Mazik’s spell abruptly cut off as they landed, and then it
exploded
. The entire platform bucked as mana tore at it from beneath, but it held.

“Mazik!” yelled Gavi as she forced herself to rise, flaming wood and debris raining down around her.

There was a long second where nothing happened, and then a hand shot out of the hole and grasped at the edge. Gavi could hear someone straining to haul themselves out, but the plank gave way in their hands, depositing them below with a petulant “Oof!” The treacherous plank was duly examined, and then discarded with an angry grunt.

“Is there anyone over there I
don’t
want to kill?” came Mazik’s voice, his hand emerging again from the hole and pointing past the front of the platform like the periscope of a vindictive submarine.

Gavi smiled, first in disbelief, then in relief. “No. Go ahead!” she said, almost laughing.

“
Fantastic
,” said Mazik, and then a sphere of blue mana shot out of the hole, arcing gracefully through the air before coming down near the edge of a cluster of cultists and exploding.
Loudly
. There were screams amid the roiling blue light, and suddenly a third of their enemies were too busy being in pain to bother them for a while.

Hobbling over to the hole, Gavi reached down and grabbed Mazik’s hand, hauling him up. She winced as his body came into view. “How many of those are self-inflicted?”

Mazik hissed as he climbed onto the platform, the hundreds of cuts and bruises across his body punishing him for every movement. He wiped blood away from his eyes. “A lot, but I don’t think I had much of a choice. That bastard didn’t want to die.”

With Mazik safe, the two looked back down into the hole.

“Huh,” said Mazik as he rubbed his neck. “She looks so … normal.”

Gavi nodded. “Yeah.”

Apparently, death had dispelled the magick that was keeping the Head Cultist’s face hidden. Now her hood had flopped back and the cracked bull skull had rolled away, revealing her face. The small nose, the thin cheeks, the long, black hair….

“She looks like someone you’d see at The Joker,” said Mazik.

“Well, maybe not The Joker,” said Gavi. “One of the nicer bars though, maybe.”

Mazik rubbed an eye, and then shook his head. “Whatever. It’s not like there’s a rule that says crazy people have to look crazy.”

Gavi’s legs trembled as she rose. She looked around the warehouse, and at the literal warzone it had become. “It’s a good thing too, or we’d have to look pretty crazy, considering where we are.”

Mazik smiled. “That’s okay. I like my women crazy,” he said with a wink. He glanced back at the hole. “Well, most of them.”

Gavi smiled weakly, then turned to the altar behind them. “Glad to hear it. Now it’s your turn to stall them while I untie her,” she said, sheathing her sword.

“Aye aye, Cap’n Ven!” said Mazik. He looked around, and then jogged over to where the Head Cultist dropped her black dagger. “Ooo, nice knife. Don’t mind if I do….”

“Less looting, more explosions,” Gavi called over her shoulder.

Mazik shoved the black dagger into his belt and drew two of his own. “Right-o!”

*      *      *

Gavi leaned over the woman in white. The final captive was panting heavily, her eyes screwed shut as she lay exhausted on the bare stone. Where Mazik or Raedren would have probably noticed her heaving chest or how her sweat was doing interesting things to the dress she was wearing, Gavi just winced at the blood covering her ankles and wrists, and wondered how she wasn’t freezing to death.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here,” said Gavi as she took off her jacket and draped it over the woman. She started in on her bonds.

The woman in white’s eyes opened as the ropes fell away. She shuddered and coughed, her body folding over with the great big racking coughs of someone who doesn’t exercise often. As the rest of the ropes fell away, Gavi helped her sit up.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Gavi wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist, stabilizing her. The woman in white shook her head. Gavi knew she was lying, but it looked like she could still move.

“Mazik, I’ve got her!” Gavi yelled over the roar of blue-tinged explosions.

“Let’s go!” said Mazik. He ran to the edge of the platform and leapt off, staggering as he landed. He immediately rushed over to Raedren. Gavi and the woman in white followed as fast as they could.

“How are you doing?” Mazik asked as soon as he reached his friend.

“I could use that break now,” said Raedren. It was clear that the battle had put an enormous strain on him—his hands were shaking, his shoulders were drooping, and sweat covered his entire body like he just spent an hour in a sauna while he had the flu. He looked like he was going to collapse any second, and Mazik suspected this wasn’t far from the truth. One perk of working at a regeneration clinic was that the years of constantly casting for hours at a time had given Raedren very high casting endurance. If he was openly showing the strain, he was getting close to his limit.

That wasn’t good, Mazik knew. There were only ten cultists left, but if Raedren got overwhelmed or passed out, there was no way Mazik could protect everyone, even if he were at one hundred percent. And he was nowhere near that right now.

We need to hurry.
Mazik reached up to wipe his brow, and his hand came away with more blood. He ignored it.

“Okay, anyone have any ideas of how to get out of here?” Mazik asked once Gavi and the woman in white had joined them. He grabbed Raedren’s arm and began transferring what extra mana he had to his friend. “Anyone can answer. Open to all.”