Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion (36 page)

The cultists hesitated, unsure what to do with an enemy who was having so much fun.

Mazik stepped forward, wrenching the sword out of a cultist’s hands and burying his fist in the man’s gut. Mana boiled around Mazik’s hand, burning into the cultist’s barriers. An indigo spell struck Mazik, but he ignored it. Instead he leaned down next to the cultist’s ear.

“Boo.”

The cultist went flying away, cartwheeling through the air with a shrill scream. The other cultists around the trio pulled back. Not even the fear of their god could match the more immediate fear of Mazik.

Mazik tossed back his head and laughed. “Come on, you fuckers!” he roared. “Is this all you’ve got? You can do better than this! Come on!
Fight me!
”

*      *      *

“If you insist,” growled the True Head Cultist, his ears sparkling with mana. He held up his free hand and snapped in the face of the man standing next to him.

“Yes, my Lord,” said the cultist with the crimson armband as he dropped his hand from his ear and hurried over. The telepathic battle chatter instantly disappeared.

“How are things going below?” asked the True Head Cultist.

“They’re going well, my lord,” said Crimson. He touched his hand to his ear again and asked for an update. It only took a few seconds.

“In fact, they’re finishing up now.”

*      *      *

Rynthe scrambled through the cramped corridors of the Catacombs, ducking under low ceilings as he hobbled as quickly as he could. His right arm dangled loosely by his side, and blood poured from a long cut on his scalp. Only one of the Special Forces soldiers assigned to him was still conscious, the other slung over Rynthe’s good shoulder while his concussed partner stumbled behind.

“What tha hell,” slurred the conscious soldier as they ran past an empty animal cage. “We cudn’t see em. Had tha spell, jus—” He opened his eyes wide, trying to keep himself from passing out.

“Divine magick doesn’t always play by the rules,” said Rynthe as they hobbled around an abandoned winch. He lurched as he went through the doorway, almost spilling the unconscious soldier to the ground, but managed to pivot and hit the wall with his mostly uninjured side.

Rynthe winced, but kept going. He stumbled out of the room and into the tunnel where Major Rur’s command hub was located.

The hallway was filled with craters. The floor, ceiling, and walls were all freshly scarred, the moldy stones blackened, and dyed red with blood. There were bodies too, of guards and soldiers, though not as many as Rynthe would have expected. Down the tunnel he could see the wreckage of the elevator. That was probably the explosion they felt earlier.

“Fuck,” said Rynthe. He immediately ducked into the doorway opposite, the dizzy soldier lurching behind.

They ran through the catacombs, the sounds of fighting nearby. Rynthe ignored them. They shimmied through a collapsed doorway, climbed over a pile of supply crates, and eventually burst into the passageway leading to Worker’s Way.

They saw Major Rur and the other survivors, down the tunnel that led to the arena’s storehouses. The original plan was to bring in more forces via Worker’s Way, some of their own people who could use invisibility magick, and use them to overwhelm the cultists. Apparently that hadn’t worked, because there were cultists in the tunnel too, pushing the city’s defenders back.

“We—” Rynthe started to say, but as soon as he opened his mouth the cultists turned around and began sprinting back toward them. Rynthe swore, stumbling backwards—and that’s when something caught his eye. He noticed a strange bundle, rolling up the tunnel toward their allies.

A bundle with a fuse.

Rynthe spun around, tackling the soldier behind him and hurling the three of them to the ground.

Worker’s Way
exploded
. Fire belched out of both ends, pushing a wave of heat in front of it as smoke choked the badly ventilated tunnels. Fireworks streaked through the air, their dazzling lights blinding as they grounded themselves on walls, machinery, and occasionally people. Cultists further away from the explosions added spells to the chaos, sending more rock crashing down onto the tunnel floor. There was a long rumble, and then Worker’s Way disappeared in a cloud of dust and smoke.

Rynthe pulled himself up with his good arm. He dragged himself over to the doorway and stuck his head out. Worker’s Way was gone; the tunnel had caved in on itself. They were cut off from their allies.

“Come on, we need to go,” said Rynthe, slapping the still-conscious soldier. He was glad he had closed his eyes, since he still had his night vision while the cultists were all still blinded from the fireworks, but that wouldn’t last long. Rynthe picked up the unconscious soldier and slung him over his shoulder again. “We need to hide
now
.”

*      *      *

The True Head Cultist and Crimson watched each other as the ground rumbled.

“Actually, it sounds like they’re done,” said Crimson. He listened to the voices in his head. “Yes, the enemy forces have been completely routed. They’re sweeping the tunnels now for stragglers.”

“Good,” said the True Head Cultist. “Pull two of your fellow Loci
⁵⁵
up here immediately and take them to retrieve the Edge. I’ll be fine until the others arrive.”

Though nearly all of the True Head Cultist’s body was covered by cloth or darkness, Crimson could tell the color was draining from his master’s skin by the hand tightly clenched atop his walking stick. Mana continued to pour from his master’s body, fueling the immense barrier above.

Crimson clasped an arm across his chest and bowed. “As you wish.” While he was relaying their orders, he waved over the other cultists nearby and motioned toward the True Head Cultist.

They all nodded. They understood. They would protect their master.

*      *      *

Up in the stands, Captain Ankt was starting to get pissed. The cultists were testing his patience.

“Get out of my way!” growled Captain Ankt as he hammered at a cultist with cold, tempered fury. The cultist had his guard up, the barriers around his arms blunting the Captain’s blows, but they were coming too quickly for him to do anything else. He tried to stand and—

“Sir,” said a guard as she stepped around Captain Ankt and fired a spell into the cultist’s face from point-blank range. The cultist cried out, rolling down the stands in a cloud of mana and smoking cloth, before coming to an uncomfortable stop several rows down.

“Thank you, lieutenant,” said Captain Ankt as his eyes swept for other assaults. “Report?”

“The other side is largely the same,” said the lieutenant. A young woman who only finished her military service less than a year ago, Lieutenant Haik still retained much of her military stiffness.

She held up a hand, a deep azure barrier repelling a volley of cultist spell. “Our people on the other side have managed to push the enemy away from the barrier crystal, but they can’t get inside. It’s protected by the barrier as well. Spells don’t seem to have any effect on it.”

“This isn’t the military, lieutenant. They’re not enemies. They’re criminals,” said Captain Ankt. He looked at his sword. The iron gray aura around it was fading. “
Dihek rocdyarn föd Tor’nun dundwùn e—Enhance Weapon
,” he said as he slid his fingers down the length of the blade. The glow intensified.

“Yes sir,” said the lieutenant as she stepped down a row and punched a cultist in the head.

As the lieutenant and the two other guards assigned to the captain’s squad surrounded him, Captain Ankt looked out across the battle. As soon as the standoff dissolved into a brawl the two sides had collapsed in on each other and moved down to the lowest deck. Now the fighting was concentrated around the two focus crystal huts on the city’s side of the arena, the cultists trying to protect them while the city tried to crack them and bring the barriers down. So far this had resulted in a stalemate.

Captain Ankt looked past the battle and into the dome that encased the arena floor. It was hard to see what was going on through the squirming shell of mana, but it looked like the trio was still fighting and the hostages were still under the city’s control.

“Captain, what’s the—
gah
, the plan!” asked the scrawny boy next to him as he flailed ineffectually at an encroaching cultist.

The captain shrugged the crossbow off his shoulder and whipped around, taking aim at the cultist, but before he could fire Lieutenant Haik finished casting her spell, azure mana picking the woman up and hurling her down the stands.

“We still need to find a way to bring those barriers down,” said Captain Ankt as he sighted one of the cultists fighting around the barrier crystal hut and fired. The bolt missed, clattering off the side of the hut and falling down to the arena floor below.

“Come on, we—” Captain Ankt started to say, but he stopped with a double take.
Wait, what the hell…?

*      *      *

Mazik snapped his fingers and watched as the cultists in a cone in front of him were blown back. Mazik took advantage of the short break to kneel down and pound on the floor.

“Helloooo, is anybody down there?” called Mazik. He swiped sand away from the metal chute and continued banging on it, but there was no response.

“Well fuck,” said Mazik as he rose, knife in hand.

The cultists attacking the trio didn’t seem to be thinning at all, no matter how many of them they (Mazik) incapacitated or killed. More than half were focusing on Mazik.

“And I thought you were having a good time,” Gavi called over her shoulder.

“Killing is never good, even if casting the spells is
sooooo
much fun,” said Mazik. “I’m just getting a tad worried about their seemingly inexhaustible supply of reinforcements,” Mazik added as four cultists tried to attack him at once. The resulting traffic jam allowed Mazik to grab one of the cultists by the head and throw him into the others.

There was a ringing sensation in Mazik’s head. Mazik didn’t recognize who was calling, but they felt familiar, like someone he had met earlier today. He answered it. “What’s going on?” he asked as he moved against Raedren, casting bolts blindly to give himself space to talk.

“
Some of the cultists have a better invis. Can’t be seen through. Watch out.
”

Mazik’s head jerked up. He saw nothing. Of course he wouldn’t.

“Raedren, barriers at full!”

Raedren looked over at Mazik. “What do—” he started to say, and then he cut himself off and just did it. The barriers around the three of them grew stronger and darker.

“What’s going on?” asked Gavi as she swiped at an enemy. The barriers were so thick around her it was getting harder to see.

“I got a call saying some of the cultists have a better kind of invis that—”

Suddenly, Mazik was slammed into the ground with the force of a battleship falling out of the sky.

Gavi instinctively leapt to the side, dragging Raedren with her. “Whoa!” she said as the spot they were standing in erupted with deep red light, the sand fusing as mana licked at their barriers. Raedren stumbled and fell, and then cried out in surprise as a sword raked across his chest.

Gavi skidded to a stop, her hand dragging through the sand as she whipped back around. She raised her sword and watched as three cultists materialized out of thin air. They appeared in clouds of indigo smoke, and though Gavi’s divine magick was still operating, she wasn’t able see them until now. Like the other cultists, the newcomers wore black robes, but theirs weren’t as baggy or long as the rank and file, making them better suited for combat. They also all had their hoods pulled back, something few cultists had willingly done so far. There was:

A man with a giant war hammer standing over Mazik. He was big and muscular, with a thick neck and a face craggy enough to cut rock. He hauled his weapon back up to his shoulder for another strike.

A woman with a twisted gray sword standing over Raedren. She had high cheekbones and black hair cut savagely short. Her sword was pointed at Raedren’s throat like he was less than a bug.

A man with a short dagger and a crimson armband standing several meters away. He was of average height and had a pretty-boy face. He was muttering what was probably a spell incantation, the purple light around his hands deepening. He was looking straight at Gavi.

At least the other cultists are edging away
, thought Gavi as she leapt out of the way of Crimson’s next spell. She cried out as a third spell struck her, throwing her to the ground.

Mazik groaned and rolled over. He found a war hammer falling rapidly toward his chest.

Mazik rolled out of the way as the hammer came down, sending a fountain of sand spraying upward. He rolled onto his stomach and threw himself into a sprinter’s start, just barely leaping away from the next strike. He winced as the knives secreted in his robes banged against his bruised chest.

“Maz, we have a problem!” yelled Gavi over the sound of explosions.

“Kill it!” said Mazik as he rushed the hammer wielder, but he was hit with a salvo of nukes from behind. He grunted as he reinforced his barriers against Hammer’s return strike.

Mazik looked behind him, and found some of the low-level cultists preparing another round of spells. They were no longer scattered in a loose circle around the trio like earlier, but were beginning to group together, with the ones on Mazik’s side coalescing around Crimson. Another group was forming opposite them, behind Gavi and Raedren.

“Heh,” said Mazik. Then he leapt to the side, barely escaping a hammer to the head.

“I’m going to go ahead and blame all of this on Mazik,” said Raedren as he slowly climbed to his feet, both of his hands in front of him as his barriers absorbed the savage blows raining down on him.

“In my defense, I thought we were doing really well,” said Mazik. He grunted as he pushed against Hammer, and, with a burst of magick-aided strength, finally managed to push him away.

Hammer looked at Mazik with every indication of respect. Then he muttered a few words, and his war hammer began glowing bright purple. Mazik swore.