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.”
They had nothing.
“Great,” said Mazik. “Doors. Anyone see any doors?” he asked as he raised a glowing hand at an encroaching cultist. The man backed off, rejoining his fellows as they prepared for another assault.
“There was one, on the other side o
f the stage,” said Gavi as she passed the woman in white to another former captive and took up her sword.
“Of course it would be on the other side,” said Mazik. He pulled himself up as straight as he could, ignoring the pain in his injuries this caused. He sighed. “Fuck it, we better go for it. Come on.”
The cultists were slow learners, but they were learning. Bunching up hadn’t served them well against Mazik’s nukes, so when the escapees burst out of the corner they found the cultists spread out in a loose semi-circle around them. Unfortunately, Mazik and the others weren’t interested in fighting, so he just blasted the two cultists directly in their way and led the group in a mad sprint through the gap.
As the others stumbled, scraped, and scuttled their way across the warehouse with all the energy they could muster—which wasn’t very much—Mazik zagged away from the others and leapt back on the stage. Stooping down next to the hole, he scooped up the late Head Cultist’s staff and, after almost falling back in, hurled it unevenly toward the others. “Rae, catch!”
Raedren wasn’t the most athletic fellow at the best of times, so fortunately the pale Man was there to catch the staff after he fumbled.
“Thanks,” said Raedren, accepting the staff. “What’s this for?”
“It’s a magick staff!” said Mazik as he sprinted to catch up, firing spells as he went to keep the cultists’ heads down. “Use it for magick! Or for hitting people. Or as a walking stick, I don’t care.”
“So now we’re robbing corpses.”
“Rae, this quest officially makes us adventurers.” Mazik leapt down to join them. “So yes, absolutely.”
Raedren smiled thinly, his face nearly as ashen as his new staff. “Point.”
“Good man,” said Mazik, patting him on the back. “You can pull off the bones and shit if they’re too tacky for you. Now go!” he said, pushing his friend forward. “Get to that door and channel for a few. I’m going to slow them down,” he said, and turned back to face the enemy.
“Hey! No fucking heroics!” yelled Gavi, spinning back toward Mazik.
“Come on, who do you think I am?” said Mazik. He winked at her. “There’s only one of me, and I wouldn’t want to deprive the world of someone this great.” Then he grunted as a cultist nuke slammed into his arm, nearly burning through his barriers. Another layer of blue flashed into existence around him, followed by a weaker one of green. Mazik smiled wanly and held his ground.
“Then what are you doing?” asked Gavi as she reached him.
“Giving us a little breathing room,” said Mazik. He raised his glowing hands and took aim—at the wooden racks above.
First it was the boxes, which flew off the shelves and exploded like cardboard hailstones. Then it was the crates full of raw cloth and old clothing, which crashed down and shattered into a thousand splintery pieces. Then it was the pallets, with their massive spools and weaving machines and hundreds of kilos of products, and before the cultists could react Mazik had reached out with his mind and cracked the entire rack in half, sending spires of wood hurtling toward his enemies like spears from a vengeful god.
The cultists panicked, some running, others disappearing, others staying in place and firing magick into the air, disintegrating the falling objects in clouds of burning wood and wool. And some cultists were buried too, but that was just a bonus. Mazik had gotten what he wanted—the cultists were scattered, and there was a huge pile of busted, jagged debris between them and his group. He had bought them time.
“This way take us out?” Mazik asked as he and Gavi joined the others huddled around the corner door.
Raedren shook his head. “Looks like a janitor’s closet.”
Mazik swore.
“Maz, I don’t see any other doors,” said Gavi.
“Hold on, that doesn’t make any sense,” said Mazik. “There have to be loading docks around here somewhere….”
Mazik held up a hand, and a tiny pinpoint of mana appeared, which turned yellow and glowed brightly as he cradled it in his palm. Shaping his hand into a searchlight, he swept it across the wall adjoining the one they just ran along.
“Aha!” said Mazik. “That’s our exit.”
Halfway down the side of the warehouse, nearly obscured by the piles of boxes that had been stacked in front of it, Mazik’s light revealed two rusty garage-style doors fitted neatly into the stone wall.
“Can we even get those things open?” asked Gavi as the first few cultists began firing at them again.
“Don’t know, but it should be easier than cutting through a stone wall,” said Mazik. “Though on second thought…”
“Rejected!” said Gavi, grabbing Mazik by the arm. He laughed as she pushed him in front of her.
Dodging a light smattering of nukes, Mazik provided covering fire as they ran along yet another wall. He was still the first one to arrive at the doors. He immediately climbed up the stack of crates in front of the nearest one.
“I may be able to get these open,” said Mazik, knocking on the metal. Pressing his back against it, he walked down between the crates and the door until he was on the ground again. He pushed against the crates with his legs, shoving them out of the way and making a space for himself to work.
“I’m coming in.” Gavi slid into the small space, pushing crates aside to make a pathway.
Mazik peered along the gate, looking for a lock. He found one in the middle and, after carefully aiming with his index finger, blew it apart on the third try. Then he squatted down and tested the door. He grunted noisily as he lifted, but the big doors wouldn’t budge.
“Anyone who’s strong and not named Raedren, please get in here and help me out!” said Mazik. He tried again. It still refused to budge.
Gavi climbed over Mazik and crouched down to help. The fiery young man, the veteran, the pale Man, and two others climbed into the gap as well, each taking hold of the door and preparing to lift.
“On three,” said Gavi. “One, two, three!”
Nothing. The cultists were regrouping, the first few having already staggered into view and resumed firing.
“Again!” said Mazik. They tried, but the doors stayed firmly shut. Mazik looked for another lock, but he couldn’t find one.
They tried again, and then Gavi let go of the door and stood up. “This isn’t working, and they’re going to attack any time now. I’m going back out.”
“Do it,” said Mazik. “I’ve got another idea.”
“What ar—?” Gavi started to say before the tiny crevasse filled with blue light.
“Hiiyah!” said Mazik, and like the martial arts master he was not, he took his glowing fist and punched right through the door. Metal screamed as his fist ripped through it like aluminum foil.
“Get back!” said Mazik. Shaking his stinging hand, he decided to change tactics. Pointing at the edges of the hole with both hands, Mazik focused and fired continuous beams of mana, creating the caster equivalent of a pair of welder’s torches. Mazik traced the beams down the door, carving out an oval nearly as tall as him.
“Mazik, hurry up!” said Gavi as she picked up boxes and hurled them at the cultists. Nearly all of them were there. “They’re about to charge!”
“Just hold on, I’m almost there….” The metal hissed and bubbled, burning pits into Mazik’s clothes. He could feel the dull ringing sound inside his head of someone telepathically calling him.
Gavi threw one last box at the cultists and then drew her sword. She looked over to Raedren, who was still leaning against the wall, exhausted. “You ready?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” said Raedren, giving her a thumbs-up. He looked like he could barely stand.
“Got it!” said Mazik. His spells cut off, and he kicked the oval cutout through the hole with a hollow clang. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…” he said as he ducked and stepped through the opening, eager to see what was on the other side.
“Mazik!” yelled Gavi as the assembled cultists charged.
; Mazik stared across the room. It looked like another warehouse, albeit one smaller and infinitely less crowded than the one they were trying to escape, but Mazik knew better. The storage racks shoved against the walls, the wide open area in the middle, the empty wagons along one side—this was a loading dock. And that meant…
There it was. On the far side of the loading dock, past the empty boxes and old ladders and overturned carts, were two doors just like the one Mazik just cut through, only they were made of wood, and flanking them on either side were a pair of windows. Windows that showed the street outside.
Outside.
Mazik tossed his head back and laughed. “Let them come, Gavs! I do believe I’ve found the way out!”
It all went by in a blur. The former captives scrambled through the impromptu doorway first, while Raedren and Gavi brought up the rear, the two of them just barely making it through before Mazik stepped in front of the opening and filled it with killing light. The wall of crates beyond started to collapse on the cultists, but by then Mazik and the others were already gone.
They ran! They sprinted and stumbled and whooped in joy, chests heaving and legs pumping as they raced for the distant door. They all ran like they had never run before, but none could match Mazik. The danger, the challenge, the thrill—he felt so alive! Mazik laughed as he ran, his feet light and his body singing as it sailed on wings of magick. He raised his hands high, his palms covered in sputtering blue light, and fired. The door exploded, the wood twisting and blackening as it shattered outward, and—
Light. Not a lot, granted, but compared to the darkness of the warehouse, lit only by the flicker of torches and flashes of deadly magick, the street lamps were as welcome as the sun on the brightest of summer afternoons. They were out. They had done it. They had won!
Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion Page 16