“Plus, this way they might able to hire more people to help us,” said Raedren. “So we might get to keep living. Which would be nice.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Mazik. “If you like that sort of thing.”
Gavi reached up and ruffled Mazik’s hair. “Idiot.”
“I prefer to think of it as lowering expectations,” said Mazik as he dodged away. “That way, when I come up with a really great idea, it’ll seem even more impressive.”
“And when is that going to happen, exactly?” asked Gavi.
“He’s due for one soon,” said Raedren. “I’ve been waiting for years.”
*
“That’s probably mine,” Gavi was saying. “How about you two?”
“The most important lessons we’ve ever learned…” said Mazik.
Raedren scratched his beard. “That’s tough.”
“It is, isn’t it?” said Mazik. “There were a lot of them. And most of them were at my expense.” He laughed.
“Oooo, I want to hear those.” Gavi leaned forward.
“Then we may be here all night,” said Raedren.
“No no, I have a good one,” said Mazik. “It’s not so much a story as … a moment. Have you ever had one of those moments where something just sank in? A crystal clear memory.”
The other two nodded.
“I know what you mean,” said Gavi. “Those are really neat. Unless they’re embarrassing.”
“They’re usually embarrassing,” said Mazik.
Gavi smiled. “Naturally.”
“But not this one,” said Mazik, taking a swig. “I don’t know what it was, but it just stuck with me. I think it was during my last semester…”
“Though magick is powerful, it has limits,” said the lecturer. “Who can tell me what they are?”
No one responded. Of the hundred seats in the lecture hall, only a dozen were filled. It was late in the semester, and most seniors were skipping, except for those who had to show up in order to graduate. Most of them were sleeping.
The lecturer sighed. “Chief among them is the sovereignty of the mind,” she said, writing the words on the blackboard. “This rule states that no magick can be used to interfere with a mortal’s mind without their consent. That means mind control and forcible possession are absolutely impossible, no matter what some laymen would have you believe.
“This is a rule that even the gods cannot violate. Mas Raeus, how is consent given?”
Mazik was sprawled out on his desk, his eyes closed. “Worship and prayer,” he said, without moving his head. “The more you worship a god, the more they can get in your head and muck up the place.”
The lecturer scowled, but turned back to the board. “Correct. Gods have little effect on casual believers, but they can profoundly alter the minds and personalities of their most ardent worshippers. In practice, their most fervent believers become more like the god itself.” She cracked a wry smile. “That’s why it’s important to choose your gods carefully. Divine insanity has a way of spreading.”
No one reacted to her joke. The lecturer sighed.
“Mana is also less effective against tempered, fortified, or enchanted materials, such as metal tempered by followers of Tesburzenis, the God of Smiths. What else?”
A student raised his hand. “Casters can only use mana that’s been in their mana pool, and spells must originate from the caster’s physical location. Spells also have to remain under the caster’s control, or they’ll dissipate. Can we go now? We learned this years ago.”
“Then listen to it again. This is important. It could save some of your lives,” said the lecturer. “And yes, that’s correct. All other major limits are implied by how magick functions. For example, there’s no way to talk to ghosts, summon demons, or bring the dead back to life.
“Casters also have their own limits. And they are…? Yes, you.”
“The size of your mana pool is determined at birth.”
“Yes. What else?”
“Uhhh…” The student tapped her lip. “Casting endurance, I guess?”
“Correct. While in theory a caster can cast indefinitely, in practice spellcasting is like a muscle, and gets fatigued when overworked. What else?”
No one said anything. The lecturer gave up.
“Everyone has a natural inclination toward certain schools of magick. While it’s possible to master every school, most people are usually only able to become proficient in a few, with only the very determined mastering any. This isn’t a concern for divine casters, of course.
“All right, I can see none of you are paying attention. Wake up and listen to one last thing and I’ll let you go.”
Students grumbled as they were roused, some already packing up to leave. Mazik stretched his arms and slumped over the bag on his desk, his bleary eyes focused on the lecturer.
“Always remember that you’re limited by your mortal bodies, and that severe injury will stop you from casting. After all, it’s hard to use magick when you’re dead. Your final exam is next Tuesday. Please pick up all your things on the way out.”
Adventure Four
Salesman of Death
Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren stared up at the darkened façade of The Pit. They had been here before, but never like this. They had never intended to step onto the arena floor, for one.
For a city with so much sheer architecture per square meter, and most of it bad, The Pit was a rare bastion of simplicity, though only because simplicity was cheaper. With the lower stories carved directly out of the depression the arena was built into, the top two stories were made of simple arches supported by plain columns, with only the occasional frieze between levels as a concession to Houk’s ruthless artisan class. Hanging from every third arch were banners depicting famous battles, and torches hung from every other column. It all combined to give The Pit a ghostly appearance, like a flicker of candlelight exposing the time-bleached bones of a murder victim.
Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren stood with Captain Ankt and the city’s defenders in Kitpicc Square, to the southwest of the arena. The square—which was actually circular—was otherwise empty, save for the bronze statue at its center, whose head and right shoulder had been melted away during one of Houk’s periodic invasions.
Ahead, a fully shrouded cultist stepped out of one of the arena’s many gates. The indistinct figure bowed, and then stood unmoving, waiting.
Captain Ankt stepped forward and cupped his hands around his mouth. “We are entering in one minute! Pull your people back to the other side of the arena so we can make the exchange!”
The lone cultist bowed again, and then stepped back into the shadows. The deliberate silence shrouding the arena pulled away, and was replaced by the regular silence of nothing much going on. Across the defenders’ lines, eyes glowed green.
“They’re pulling back,” the guard next to Captain Ankt said.
“Good,” said Captain Ankt. He held up a hand. “Prepare to enter.”
Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren marched into the darkened arena at the head of the crowd. As guards and soldiers fanned out, heading for different entrances to secure the area, the trio went straight for the entrance where the lone cultist stood a moment before.
Gavi rubbed her shoulder and leaned over to Mazik. “Are we sure about this? We’re not exactly at a hundred percent here.”
“Not even a little!” said Mazik. He patted his chest again, making sure the cultist knife was still there. “But hey, where would be the fun in that? All I know is that we can’t pass this opportunity up if we want to get into a guild. We can’t let anyone overshadow us so quickly.”
“Getting into a guild is not helpful if we’re dead,” said Gavi.
“Then we better not die,” said Mazik. He winked at her. “Besides, doesn’t matter now. We’re too far in to pull out now.”
“That’s what she said?” said Raedren.
“Hur hur hur,” agreed Mazik.
“I know,” said Gavi. “I’m j
ust nervous. It feels like there are a lot of enemies in there, and they’re all going to be looking at us.”
The other two knew what she meant. They still weren’t sure how many cultists they would be facing, but they did know that, per their agreement, only ten people from the city would be stepping out onto the arena floor, to meet ten cultists for the exchange. Along with the seven soldiers behind them, Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren were those people.
They entered the arena. After all the times the trio had been here—for the games were downright respectable nowadays, now that all the death had been reduced to a tasteful amount of bloodshed—it had never been this quiet before, nor this dark. The normally crowded halls were empty and silent, and the scattered torchlight only served to enhance the shadows, not banish them.
“Gulp,” said Raedren as Captain Ankt directed soldiers and guards. As their calls beat back the deafening silence, Raedren rubbed his arms. He briefly wondered whether he would end up regretting not taking a trip through the armory.
“I know, right?” said Mazik. He smiled, and there was only a hint of nervousness there. “My heart is beating like crazy.”
“You can say that again…” said Gavi as she looked around.
Mazik put a hand on Gavi’s shoulder, and Raedren’s as well. He gave them both a squeeze.
“Think of it like this,” said Mazik as soldiers and guards rushed past them, save for the seven waiting patiently behind them. “For one day, just for today, this entire damn city turns on us. We are the most important people in the whole place. Politicians, merchants, guards, priests, all of them—”
“If they knew about us,” said Raedren.
“If they knew about us,” agreed Mazik. “All of them. Every single person in this city is depending on us. They might not know it, but they are. If nothing else, I think that’s pretty cool.”
Gavi smiled despite herself. “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”
Mazik laughed. “Probably. It’s fun though, isn’t it?”
Gavi shook her head, but couldn’t resist a wistful smile. “Yeah, I guess it is. It’s pretty cool.”
“No pressure or anything,” said Raedren.
“Hah!” said Mazik.
Captain Ankt dropped a hand on Mazik’s shoulder. Mazik jumped, almost squealing in surprise.
“Our half of the arena is secure up here,” said Captain Ankt. “We’re going to leave a few people out here to make sure it stays that way, and then the rest of us are going to set up in the stands. We’ll have the maximum allowed number of people out there, as per our agreement.” The last part was added in a mocking tone that showed exactly what he thought of an agreement with a bunch of criminals.
“Sounds good,” said Mazik.
“Just don’t do anything stupid down there,” snapped Captain Ankt. “If anything happens, we’ll try to help you, but we’ll have our hands full keeping the nut jobs on their side of the stands from lighting you up, so unless the major can get to you, you’ll be on your own. It’s supposed to be mutually assured destruction if it comes to a fight, so try not to let it come to that.”
“Pffft, I don’t believe that for a second,” said Mazik, and before Captain Ankt could snap at him again, Mazik added: “Not when we have the best damn soldiers in the world our side. Am I right, guys?” He said, and gave the seven soldiers behind him a thumbs-up.
The squad leader saluted, a grin threatening to crack his professional façade. “Yes sir!”
Mazik looked back at Captain Ankt and smiled. “See?”
Captain Ankt leaned close. “But they may die if you do anything unwise.”
“I know, I’m just trying to pump up the people watching my back,” hissed Mazik. “We’ll be careful.”
Captain Ankt gave Mazik a long stare, and then hrumpfh’d and walked away.
“By the way, what was your name again?” asked Mazik, turning to the squad leader. “Sorry, I’m terrible with names.”
“Kolhn, sir,” said the squad leader. Sergeant Kolhn and his squad came highly recommended by Major Rur, who called them “the best soldiers I have who weren’t smart enough to get themselves assigned to some other duty.” You wouldn’t expect it by looking at Kolhn though, with his round cheeks, boyish smile, and fuzzy red soul patch that did everything it could to rob him of his authority.
“I’d tell you not to call me sir since you’re a higher rank than I was, but screw it, I like the sound of it,” said Mazik with a rogue’s grin. “Let’s just try to get out of this alive, Kolhn.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kolhn.
Mazik looked around. “Uh. How do we get down there?”
“I think it’s that way,” said Raedren, pointing. “Over by where the captain is tapping his foot and scowling.”
Mazik, Gavi, Raedren, and the seven soldiers climbed down the thin steps and dropped onto Gladiator’s Way. There they found Major Rur and a group of soldiers waiting for the elevator to the Catacombs.
“Hey. Are you ready for us to head out?” Mazik asked, leading the group over to the major.
“Give us another minute or two,” said Major Rur as the elevator slowly rose to meet them. Far below, soldiers strained at the sophisticated winch and pulley system that powered the elevator’s movement. “We’re already set up and have a nice little standoff going with the cultists on their side, but I need to get down there and establish a command position before we’re ready to go.”
“All right. We’ll just wait then,” said Mazik. He and the others turned to face the Gate of Life as the elevator ground to a stop beside them.
*
Rynthe briefly meditated on the wisdom of openly challenging a quest-giver’s decisions. He decided it wasn’t wise. To see why, all he had to do was look around.
Despite the rumors, the Catacombs were not a burial place, and they did not house the remains of the gladiators and slaves who died in the arena before it cleaned up its act. It felt like it, though. Cramped and dark, with insufficient ventilation and scant few torches illuminating the tiny rooms and passageways, the Catacombs felt like a crypt crossed with a mine, only not as roomy or hospitable. It was here that the spectacle of the games was created, from quick scenery changes and sudden reinforcements to releasing wild animals or shooting fireworks into the sky.
Rynthe was crouched in one such cramped room, a tiny storage room which, by the smell of things, normally contained animals, explosives, or both. On either side of him were two soldiers dressed in the dark grays and blues of Houkian Special Forces, swords in their hands and loaded crossbows nearby.
Together, the three of them were looking across a short passageway at the three black-robed cultists crouching there. They were staring right back.
Per the city’s agreement with the Cult of Amougourest, the exchange would be made on the arena floor in the middle of The Pit, with the city’s forces occupying the south half of the arena and the Cult of Amougourest occupying the north half. This made the exchange a standoff, where both sides had incentive for it to go off without a hitch, lest they destroy one another. They would face off in the stands and on the arena floor, but they couldn’t ignore the Catacombs, which was why Rynthe and the others were down here now.
Rynthe glanced behind him. The Catacombs were two levels deep, the top of which opened onto the arena floor via four chutes situated equidistantly around its center. Behind Rynthe was one of the two chutes on the city’s side of the arena. If it came to a fight, he would have to rush there and either defend it, or go up into the arena to protect the hostages and the knife.
The two sides continued staring at each other, not moving. All according to plan.
*
Mazik, Gavi, Raedren, and Sergeant Kolhn’s squad stood looking up at the Gate of Life. It was here through which gladiators entered the arena, and where once upon a time only the victorious ones were allowed to return through. The others had to go through the Gate of Shame, then called the Gate of Death. It was aptly named in those days.
Gavi didn’t know why any of this trivia was going through her mind right now, but she wished it would stop. She had enough on her mind.
Behind the trio, Sergeant Kolhn felt a ringing in his ear. He raised his hand to accept the call. “That was from the captain up top,” he said after a minute. “They’re ready to go.”
Mazik nodded. “All right. And down below?”
Sergeant Kolhn started to answer, but his ear began ringing again. He answered the call. “That was them,” he said after another minute. “They’re ready as well.”
Mazik nodded again, and then took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, and then turned to Gavi and Raedren. “You ready for this?”
Gavi nodded. “I’m ready.”
“As ready as I’m ever going to be,” said Raedren.
Mazik looked over his shoulder. Sergeant Kolhn nodded.
“That’ll have to do,” said Mazik. He took another breath, and then stepped out into the arena. The others followed.
Mazik looked up as they entered the arena. It was an awesome sight. Like any large building The Pit looked larger up close, but it was an entirely different animal from the arena floor. At the top of that nearest wall he could see the four covered emplacements that housed the stadium’s barrier crystals, special focus crystals used to protect the crowd from the havoc of the games54. The tiny huts were heavily armored, designed to protect the four casters who manned each while events were in progress. They were currently empty and sealed, as per the city’s agreement with the cultists.
Normally Mazik wouldn’t have been able to see any of this, but the cultists had been kind enough to light the multitude of torches The Pit kept on hand for the rare nighttime event. But it was what these flames illuminated that was most striking.
Everyone was staring at them. In the stands ahead, what looked like a hundred or more cultists stared down at them, while from the stands on their side an equal number of guards, soldiers, and adventurers watched their backs. Gavi and Mazik had been right—they were the center of attention.
Mazik took in the details of the arena floor. Aside from all the sand, he could see the promised ten cultists—one standing directly in their path away from his fellows, the others were in the very middle of the arena, one of whom was sitting down—and what looked like fifty or so hostages huddled together off to one side. Other than that, the arena floor was mostly empty, save for a few stone boxes, pillars, and assorted blocky shapes scattered near the walls—the remains of an obstacle course the gladiators had been practicing on earlier. The cultists had just shoved them out of the way.
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