Wordscapist: The Myth (The Way of the Word Book 1) (37 page)

    I picked up the intercom and called the helpdesk, “Amra here. I am heading to the detention cell. Number 26. Please send one of the Interrogators there. Do check if the Yaqui has arrived. Thank you.”

     I picked up my quirt, checked the charge on it, and then headed for the cell. I was ready to deal with the two brats now. I was going to make up for all the times the kids’ parents had spared the rod.

Slick

     I came to my senses in a haze of pain. My throat was on fire, and I could not move an inch, my head, arms, legs, all held tightly by metal bands. I realised that I was lying on my back on a table of some kind, with bands that prevented any movement. I saw the bright fluorescent light right overhead, and knew that I was either in an operating room of some sort or a modern torture chamber. I tried speaking, but could not. My entire face was numb. They had injected something into my face! This was crazy! But then I saw the logic behind it. I could not weave a scape now, unless I tried one of my thoughtscapes. I decided to wait for a while before I did that.

     From the corner of my eye, I could make out another form similarly stretched out. I could not make out who it was. I probed telepathically, and realised that the other person was unconscious. But I could recognise that mind anywhere and in any condition. It was Dew. She had been caught too.

     I had to wake her up. I started sending her tiny thought probes, in an erratic random pattern with different strengths and feels to them. It worked. Presently, I saw her move, her mind slowly coming awake.

   “Slick?” the question came at once along the mental link I had opened up.

     “Right here.”

      “You are tied too?”

     “Yes. Plus that funny stuff in the face. Can’t move a muscle.”

    “Oh shit! Do you know who?”

     “Little woman with a strong face and beetle like eyebrows.”

     “Amra!” the word came bouncing along the link, a mental gasp.

     “Who?” I asked.

     “She’s a CCC officer, one of the worst!”

     “Uh oh!”

     “Yes. We’re in deep shit.”

     “I could try something,” I offered.

     “Slick, no weaving. Please! We might be able to get out of this, but if you lose control, that’ll be the end of everything.”

     “I’d rather die at my own hand than let this Amra woman kill me!”

     “Don’t! Let’s figure out what she wants to do with us first. We might get an opportunity later.” I could see traces of colour in the thought. Dew was trying to sound reassuring, weaving confidence she did not feel into the thought. “And moreover, I don’t want to die yet!”

     “Dew, we are probably in a CCC cell. You did mention some horror stories about these guys. They do not slip up. There won’t be any chances.”

      There was silence. I could feel the despair in the mental link. I could feel the emotion sympathetically welling up inside me. I quickly quelled it and sent a positive surge.

     “We can do this, Dew.”

     “Slick, I will not have you killing yourself. Not while we have a chance!”

     I knew my chances of weaving safely and not making a mistake were getting leaner with every time I tried something new. But right then, I was busy being inordinately pleased at how concerned Dew was for my safety. Every instance where I discovered that Dew cared was a small victory for me. Apart from these precious few moments, Dew was consistently sarcastic and condescending in generous measures.

     I stayed silent for a couple of minutes. In the meanwhile, I quietly put a shield on the mental link, faking drugged somnolence.

“Slumber

An illusion

Till I say the word

Do not wake up

To my wakefulness”

     It worked!

     “Sleep for now, Slick. Let them tell us what they intend doing with us. We will have a chance. We will break out somehow.”

     I saw her withdrawing herself, apparently letting me drift into sleep. I felt mean and small, cheating her in this way. But I could not bear the thought of CCC goons torturing Dew, or even me for that matter. I was going to get us out of here.

     I quickly slipped into thoughtlessness, becoming one with my body. Time to weave in my head. First, I had to heal myself. I quickly detected the inflammation in my throat, the tissue charred and numbed by Amra’s attack. I drew up positive energy and directed it in a continuous flow to my throat. I was shocked to see the amount of energy my throat drew. That woman had done a lot of damage. I felt anger rising in me and quickly pushed it down, sharply drawing my focus back to thoughtlessness. Emotions were lethal, and would pretty much ensure that I would lose control. I couldn’t afford to do that. I returned to the cold, neutral state I needed and kept up the energy flow, adding the words to accelerate the process.

“Rebuild and knit

Let the lifeblood flow

And make right what’s been torn

Undo what’s been wreaked

Heal on

Till all hurt recedes

And all’s well”

      Slowly, the damaged area recovered, and I could feel the pain fade away. In a couple of minutes, my throat was back to normal.

     I then slowly sent a thought probe to the muscles in my face, trying to figure out what was wrong there. Once again, a surge of anger rose in me as I saw that the damage was meant to be permanent. What got my blood boiling was the fact that they had done the same to Dew. I had to fight the emotion again to return to thoughtlessness. I could not afford to screw up. Not now. I had to pay these CCC guys back for what they did.

      Slowly, I started thinking up a scape that would counter the damage, intuitively picking words that would undo the paralysis. I tied the scape to a few words in my head. I would have to repeat it for Dew and would need to quickly summon it with a few words. This was the technique I had planned to use with Sliverette whenever I’d need her again. I had a feeling it would be very soon.

     Slowly, the numbness was replaced with a tingling sensation. It was working. I blocked out all thought and worked hard at weaving the scape, the words coming to me in that mindless flow that I thrived on. Soon, I felt the tingling go away. Feeling returned to my face. The drug had been neutralised. I completed weaving the scape into a few spell words. I tied them to Dew’s aura, and released the words in my mind, still not daring to speak. At the same time, I sent out a thought to Dew, “Don’t speak, no matter what happens.”

     “Slick! What are you doing? You…”

     “Yes, I have managed to counter the drug. I am weaving it around you right now. Lie back and let it complete its work. In the meanwhile, I am going to weave up something that can get rid of these restraints.”

     “But they have sound detectors all over the place! They will know the moment you say a word!”

     “Who’s saying anything?”

      “Slick! Don’t!”

     “Dew, for once, please trust me. I would never ever do anything that could harm you. I know I can do this. I have managed to cure us of the paralysis. Now I will weave something up for the restraints. We cannot talk or they will know in an instant. Don’t even try muttering or showing an expression on your face, just in case they are monitoring us. Just let me do this. Please?”

      Dew was silent for a while. Then I felt her send a mental nod to me. I sent a smile in return. It is difficult to explain how nods and smiles traverse telepathically, but they do!

       It took another minute to think up a neat little spell that converted all our restraints to sugar icing that merely looked like metal bands.

“Hold thy form

But soften thy soul

To something sweeter

A candy well-wrought

In marzipan and floss”

      I sent Dew a thought, warning her against moving her limbs. The slightest movement would shatter the confectionary.

      I was ready now. I would wait now for that little bitch who had tried to turn us both dumb for life. De Vorto had been right after all. It was time to get people to fear me. I was not going for any more cheap tricks. Amra would remember me and fear me for as long as she lived. The CCC would sit up and take notice. I had been waiting for an opportunity to vent at these smug buggers and this was the best time to do so. I relaxed and went into a meditative trance, summoning energy for all the fireworks to come…

CHAPTER 18

Everyone's Invited

They all came to the feast

With carving knives and meat forks

But the prey was not down yet

And cutlery does not make for good hunting

The Historian

     I went through the motions setting up my equipment, mentally numb by now. I had tired of the Free Word. I realised that I had tired of the Guild too, if I were to ever consider switching sides again. I had also tired of all the words and threatening gestures. Today was supposed to be the big day; everyone was crowing about being close to catching the Wordscapist. There was an entire team of Free wordsmiths and norms congregated in a dingy house belonging to a Free Word sympathiser. There was a round of speeches, and then this entire bunch of dangerous wordsmiths would go off to attack the two kids. It would be ridiculous if it had not been for all these grown-up, legendary characters taking it so seriously.

     Truth is, my sympathies had never lain with the Free Word. I hadn’t had much of a chance to feel one with the gang. I had been pretty much press ganged into my role. Neither had I ever been a Guild loyalist. The one person who had managed to ignite a flame of loyalty in me was the boy himself. Slick or the Wordscapist, call him what you will. He had managed to escape the Free Word, and then the Guild. He had overcome Zyx’s spooks, and made them all disappear. Zyx had reportedly broken down after the incident and had to be transported to the Guild R&R Unit. The woman had had a dark and deep connection with her spooks, and their loss had taken the zing out of her. Half the Free Word had cheered at the news. Zyx hadn’t been very popular with the Free wordsmiths, with her spooks having taken out quite a few renegades over the years. And the boy had taken out her main weapon. All of them. Together. I could only wonder how.

     The equipment was set up, and I made a rudimentary check of the settings. And then, the menagerie trooped in. Zauberin was the first, as usual. She made a big show of going around, checking the meters. The woman believed in putting on a big show. But I was beginning to suspect that she did not really understand how recording equipment worked. The next to come in was crazy Mother Gaia. She had only partly recovered, and had a wild look in her eyes. I had learned from Isis that she had always been pretty crazy, an environmentalist who would happily use a chainsaw on the loggers. The power of the Word with someone like that was plain murder. The Healer came in next, a nervous tic added to his eternal muttering. There was a tangible aura from the energy scape that he constantly sustained around him. I wondered if Zauberin had told him what Sign thought of his shield. Well, it at least looked pretty, glowing in different colours depending on his mental state (which currently ranged from irritable to hysterical). Isis and Wind came in together as always. I liked them. They had spoken about their sudden departure to Leh and their trip back from there in good humour, even laughing at the boy’s cheek. They were the type of Free wordsmiths who could speak about their beliefs without foaming at the mouth, and they did not think it blasphemy to joke about what the Free Word was doing.

     Five more wordsmiths walked in, dressed in combat gear, complete with ski masks. They were part of the primary assault team that was going to attack the CCC centre. Today, the core team would be going in themselves too. I was sure that Zauberin must be sorely missing Lonigan and Necros. They had walked out soon after the kid had teleported. I had seen Necros taking down Akto, something that everyone else in the room but Lonigan had missed.

     Zauberin was happily clueless of their betrayal. She found it convenient to reach the conclusion that the boy had done something to them too. To further her own interests, she spread the rumour that the boy had killed the two using a conjured up scape, leaving no trace of their bodies or souls. This kind of dastardly deed had provoked the ire of the Free Word, and soon all the members had signed up for the hunt. Avenging their comrades turned out to be a lot more motivating for the Free Word gang than saving their precious Zauberin’s neck.

     Finally Akto came in. He was dressed pretty much as usual, but had a dark cloak covering him. I could make out glints from beneath showing that he had quite a few blades about his person. The filthy head bandage was still in place. He was a lot surlier and very, very serious about what the Free Word was trying today. Dew had been like a daughter to him, and like he had said at least a dozen times in the last couple of days, he had lost a brother and a daughter. Though there were constant reports that Dew was with the boy and was helping him do all that he did, Akto continued to persist with the idea that the boy had run a scape of some sort to brainwash the girl. He was joining the hunt today with six of his men.

     With everyone gathered, Zauberin signalled me to start recording. Clearing her throat, she started speaking, “Brothers and sisters, we have the enemy cornered. The same enemy who attacked our warren, injured our fellow wordsmiths, and humiliated us. The CCC has him sequestered in their local bureau. I do not know what they intend to do with him, but they will not execute him. There is also a good chance that they might slip up and let him escape, considering that they do not know his devious ways as well as we do. We will not have a better chance of bringing him down. We are going to execute him while he lies helpless within CCC precincts.”