“So we have a bunch of quasi-innocent people who urgently need help, and we still don’t want to let these nutjobs get the rest of this knife,” finished Mazik. “Gavi, what do you think?”
“What, I’m making the plan now?” asked Gavi.
“You bet,” said Mazik. He watched as the Loci turned back toward them, having apparently come to a decision. Two of them, Sasha and Crimson, ran toward the True Head Cultist and began firing on the adventurers attacking him, while a third had long since disappeared. “I’ll make sure you aren’t bothered.”
“But—”
There was a ripple in the mana mist to Mazik’s right. He immediately pivoted and fired, and the spell exploded, sending Tattoo tumbling out. Mazik leapt forward and tried to bury his knife in the man’s chest, but the cultist was already rolling away.
“You’re busy. Right.”
Gavi’s mind churned, turning over choices like a student with thirty questions left on a test that would end in two minutes. What should they do?
Suddenly, Gavi remembered:
Mazik pulled Gavi close, hugging her. “What I’m trying to say is, you make the whole team better just by using your head!”
Gavi took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s what I thin—here’s what we’re going to do. Our number-one priority is still to make sure they don’t get the rest of the knife. If they’re willing to risk all of this”—she waved at the arena, the barrier, the fresh blood staining the sand—“then they probably have something bad in mind. I don’t know how they can expect to live through this, so they either don’t, or … yeah, something bad.
“The smartest thing to do would be to sit here and wait it out, but the longer we wait the more likely it is they’ll overwhelm us, or even just get lucky and get the rest of the knife. Then there’s the hostages to think of. We—”
“Gavs, you don’t have to justify your plan to us,” said Mazik as he sprayed mana like an incontinent machine gun. He repulsed a cultist charge, sending them tumbling. “We trust you. Whatever you decide will probably be good, and if we don’t like it, we’ll tell you.”
Gavi smiled, with just a hint of a blush. “We need to protect the knife, but I don’t want to let them get the hostages back either. I want to say we should go save them now, but we can’t risk dragging a bunch of these powerful divs over there or we’ll just makes things worse. If we can kill or incapacitate two or three of these guys though, we can go help them.”
Mazik looked back at Gavi, surprised. “That’s ruthless, Gavs.”
“Cold-blooded,” agreed Raedren as he climbed to his feet.
“If you have a better idea—”
“Hey, I never said I didn’t like it.” Mazik patted Gavi’s head. She blushed and swatted his hand away.
“What about that ceremony?” asked Mazik, nodding toward the middle of the arena.
“If they’re diverting that many people to retrieve hostages while their leader is under attack, they probably need them for whatever they’re summoning,” said Gavi. “Two birds, one stone.”
“I like it,” said Mazik. “And did you have a plan for how to kill over half of these guys?”
“Uh, I was hoping you would have an idea on that,” said Gavi.
“Well, whatever we’re going to do, we should do it fast.” Raedren pointed across the arena.
The trio looked over in time to see several cultists dash past Sergeant Kolhn’s squad and snatch hostages from their overwhelmed protectors. The number of hostages the cultists had reclaimed was nearing double digits already.
“Yeah, we should hurry,” said Mazik. The three Loci had collected themselves and were fanning out for another attack.
“You both ready?” asked Mazik.
“Close enough,” said Raedren. Gavi nodded.
“Good,” said Mazik. Then he giggled and leapt over the overturned column. “I’ll take the one in black!”
“They’re all in black!” Gavi yelled after him. She sighed. “Why does he always have to charge in like that? Ugh…”
Mazik let loose a terrific bellow and leapt at the reappearing Hammer, delivering a spinning uppercut to the man’s chin that snapped his head so far back he nearly bruised his own shoulder blades. Mazik laughed as he danced away.
Raedren touched Gavi’s shoulder, and she felt strength flood into her as her enhancements were strengthened. Then he snapped his fingers, and barriers appeared around Gavi and the distant Mazik. He nodded toward their friend. “We should probably help him.”
“Agreed.” The two climbed over the overturned column and joined the battle.
Hammer, Savage, and Tattoo had Mazik completely surrounded. Though they had tried to use their superior invisibility to get the drop on him, a combination of his mana mist and a volley of spells fired indiscriminately around him knocked them out of stealth before they could do any damage. That gave Mazik the chance to get in a few good shots, but that time was over.
Gavi came in from the side like a stagecoach robber riding up on her target, her head lowered and her sword aimed at Hammer’s exposed flank. Gavi was only a few steps away when the distant Sasha, now running back toward the fray, called out a warning. Hammer brought his weapon around to block, but he was too slow; Gavi’s sword slid past his guard and along his side just below his armpit, his barriers rattling as Gavi’s sword drew a long cut through his robes.
Hammer reeled, but Mazik was still beleaguered. That’s where Raedren came in—he pushed his way past Mazik and positioned himself between his friend and the attacking cultists, two small barriers poised in front of either hand.
Savage and Tattoo reared back, raising their weapons. Raedren stepped forward and shoved his tiny barriers in their chests, using the repulsive effect to shove the cultists back, largely unharmed.
Mazik rubbed his shoulder as the cultists collected themselves. “Okay, who’s our target?”
“The two finger wigglers,” said Gavi as the cultists in question made their return known; Raedren and Mazik held out barriers to block Crimson and Sasha’s searing spells. “We can contain the other three, but we can’t risk letting those two get close to the hostages. They could do a lot of damage by accident, and even more if they get mad start attacking them in earnest.”
“Agreed,” said Mazik. The melee cultists surged forward. Mazik leapt back, dodging a strike from Hammer, and then cried out as another salvo from Crimson and Sasha struck him. He came out the other side, mana streaming off his body.
“Get out of my way!” growled Mazik as he lunged to the side. He barely managed to dodge an attack from Savage, with Gavi stepping forward to keep her busy. Hammer tried as well, but Raedren was there to intercept his attack. That left Mazik with only Tattoo between him and the distant casters.
As Mazik watched, his opponent disappeared in a flash of smoke. Mazik replied with a series of nukes, but they all missed, and he knocked himself off balance with the explosions. As the spells jostled Hammer and Raedren, Mazik took two steps back and slashed wildly with his knife to his right.
Tattoo came in from the other side, his combat knife raking across Mazik’s exposed back.
“Fuckin’ hell!” said Mazik as he staggered, a long cut opening up through his barriers. He spun again and raised his knife to block, his arm shuddering as Tattoo’s follow-up blow connected. There was a snap, and something heavy fell to the sand next to him.
Mazik stared at his knife. It was broken, the metal snapped in the same place the blacksmiths broke the cultist knife he was fighting so hard to deny them.
“Heh,” said Mazik, his lip twitching. Then he pulled himself up, his voice rising. “Stupid low-quality AIW crap!” he yelled, hurling the broken weapon at Tattoo. He was rewarded with a dull thud as the handle struck the cultist’s funny bone.
“Didn’t you used to sell those?” asked Raedren as he cast frantically, trying to defend himself from Hammer’s onslaught and everyone else from everyone else. Gavi was still locked in her duel with Savage
, both of them too focused to give any attention to anything else.
“And they were crap then too!” yelled Mazik, firing nuke after nuke at Tattoo, the last of which pushed back his opponent and set his robes on fire. “It’s a wonder I ever sold any of the damn things!”
“Clearly, you were born for sales,” said Raedren.
“Godsdammit, I hate everybody!” yelled Mazik, frustration filling his voice as he rained blows down on Tattoo.
Mazik glanced over at the Gate of Life. The cultists there had reclaimed nearly half of the hostages now, and were beginning to pull away from Sergeant Kolhn’s squad. Apparently they had enough.
Mazik poured all of his anger and frustration into his fists. Tattoo gasped as Mazik’s speed redoubled and he punched the cultist’s gut, but before the man could react Mazik grabbed him by the face and hurled him into Hammer. They tripped over each other and went down, with a complimentary nuke from Mazik for their troubles.
And just like that, the way was open.
The trio sprinted forward in a V formation, the sand fountaining around them like they were charging up a beach as artillery pounded the landing zone. But they weren’t daunted. Ten meters, five meters, two meters—
“Got you now!” yelled Mazik as he pounced. Sasha fell back as Crimson drew his knife.
“We’ll keep the others busy!” called Gavi as she turned back to the three melee cultists, who had already recovered and were closing the gap. Raedren joined her, leaving Mazik to deal with the two casters.
But Mazik was already lost in the battle, lashing out as the hostages were dragged ever closer to the foul ceremony.
Crimson rose to meet him, knife in hand, but Mazik ignored him—he dodged and fired at Sasha, layers of her barriers melting away as the spell in her hands faltered. Crimson tried again, and this time Mazik entertained him; a new knife came out of Mazik’s robes and blocked the cultist’s, just as a new spell hit Crimson in the shoulder. Then Mazik pushed him away and moved back to Sasha.
One, then the other, that’s how Mazik operated. A spell for Sasha, a block and backhand for Crimson, another kick at Sasha, rinse and repeat. Barriers evaporated under Mazik’s onslaught even as his own evaporated under theirs—though not fast enough, not fast enough by far. Mazik ducked and wove like he knew what he was doing, blocked like his barriers would last long enough, and hit his opponents with the intent to drop them right now.
But they didn’t fall. Mazik was having the most success against Sasha, so he turned his full attention to her. Spell after spell ripped into her barriers, spells Mazik could cast faster than the cultists could, since he didn’t need incantations. Sasha reeled as half of her shields collapsed, mana crackling across her body as her defenses fell.
That’s when Mazik realized that Crimson had been chanting for a few seconds now. Mazik turned and stabbed at the cultist’s face. Crimson dodged—and realized too late that Mazik’s real aim was to get in close. Mazik lowered the butt of his knife and struck Crimson in the chin and throat, followed by a knee to the gut. Crimson folded over, all of the air forced from his lungs.
Very slowly, Crimson raised his hand and pointed at Mazik. His hand was still wrapped with an indigo glow. The cultist coughed loudly and continued his spell56.
“Fuck,” said Mazik, and then the air exploded around him.
Mazik collapsed out of the fireball, his barriers faltering. He lurched to the side, and found Sasha several meters away, one hand holding her injured arm so she could aim her spell at him.
Mazik threw his arms up and leapt back—right into Raedren.
“Not ideal!” Mazik whipped around, turning back just in time to intercept Sasha’s spell.
Gavi kicked at Savage, and then her eyes darted across the arena floor. The recaptured hostages had nearly reached the True Head Cultist’s ceremony. There was only a pair of battered adventurers between them and the ceremony, and the adventurers weren’t even facing the right way.
“Maz, they’re almost there!” said Gavi. “We need to finish this now!”
“I know!” said Mazik as spells continued to pound his barriers. The cultists had abandoned all finesse and were just pouring mana into him, but it was working.
Behind Mazik there was a cry of pain, and the sound of something metal striking soft, yielding flesh. Mazik risked a look behind him. There he found Raedren on his knees, his entire body folded over with a series of painful, wracking coughs. Hammer picked up his weapon for the finishing blow.
Mazik reacted quickly. Grabbing Raedren by his armpits, Mazik hurled his best friend out of the way, and inadvertently made Sasha and Crimson’s spells miss as he staggered off balance. Mazik used it—he lunged at Hammer and jammed a shoulder into the man’s chest, and then quickly turned and aimed a kick at Tattoo’s leg.
Mazik’s kick worked better than anticipated. The blow broke through Tattoo’s barriers and connected, breaking the cultist’s ankle and dumping him to the ground. Mazik raised his knife and aimed for the man’s heart—but Tattoo rolled at the last second, and the knife buried into his right shoulder. Mazik left it there as the man rolled away and disappeared, once again evading Mazik’s spells.
“Rae—”
“I’m fine-ish,” said Raedren as he stepped in between Mazik and the two casters, happy to be blocking spells instead of weapons—his spells were more suited to it. “Finish them while we have a chance.”
Mazik looked over to the middle of the arena, and his heart sank. But it was Gavi who said it.
“I think we’re out of time.”
“Godsdammit!” yelled Mazik as he clenched his empty fists, orbs of mana flashing into existence around him. “Mazik Missiles!”
Over a dozen spheres shot outward, corkscrewing unsteadily as they flew toward their targets. Two out of every three struck, ripping into the Loci as the others detonated against the sand. Savage was tossed away, and the two casters were punished for standing still and being easy targets.
“Go!” shouted Gavi, though she needn’t have bothered. Mazik sprinted—and a heavy weight landed on his back, flattening him to the ground. Spitting sand as he slid, Mazik flailed back with his elbows, trying to dislodge his assailant.
Hammer had no intention of being removed so easily. Now bereft of his weapon, the bigger man lifted himself up, his thick legs straddling Mazik as he forced the adventurer onto his back. “Give me the Edge!” he yelled as he clawed at Mazik’s robes. Mazik clamped his hands over his chest, holding the broken knife there with all his might. Hammer snarled, and then raised his big, meaty fists to strike.
Fuck, thought Mazik. He closed his eyes, and the blows came.
Cra-koom!
The punching had stopped. Mazik carefully opened his eyes. Hammer was still on top of him, one hand holding Mazik by the shoulder while the other was raised to strike, but he wasn’t looking at Mazik anymore. He was looking back toward the middle of the arena.
Mazik raised his head to see what was going on. He laughed. One of the metal chutes on the city’s side of the arena had finally opened, and streaming out from underground was…
“Woohoo!” said Mazik. He would have jumped in joy, had he been able. Instead he had to make do with taunting Hammer. “You’re all really fucked now!”
*
Adventurers and soldiers poured out of the chute and onto the arena floor. More explosions went off as the city’s defenders pushed the cultists back, making room for more to emerge. Rynthe shot out of the chute at the head of the next group, his two Special Forces companions right behind him.
Rynthe looked no better for his time underground. His right arm still hung uselessly, though now it was cradled in a sling made from torn strips of his muddy, bloodstained robes. The two soldiers following Rynthe looked no better, but they were alive and no longer concussed or unconscious, and that was more than could be said for many. Now they were looking for someone to punish for their trials below.
Rynthe took stock of the situation. Hostag
es to their left, the mass of cultists in the middle, the ceremony, a scant few adventurers encroaching on the cultists from every side—
Rynthe’s eyes fell on the True Head Cultist at the very middle. There he was.
As Rynthe and the two soldiers dove into the mass of cultists, Major Rur clambered out of the chute. She too looked worse for the wear, with blood dripping from a wound on her leg and an assortment of unseen bruises beneath her armor. She wiped the sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes and raised her sword.
“Secure the—!”
Major Rur’s shoulder jerked backward as a spell struck. Orange mana crackled as her barriers buckled, but she repelled the cultist’s attack. Major Rur shook her head and tried again.
“Secure the hostages!”
Rynthe and half a dozen others ignored the major’s call. Spheres of pale gold appeared around Rynthe, and shot forward as quickly as they appeared, ripping a hole through the cultists’ lines. He and the others dove through the gap, heading straight for the True Head Cultist.
The True Head Cultist roared and thrust his empty palm toward Rynthe. He spoke a single word of power, and suddenly a burst of mana as wide as a battering ram exploded forth, stopping Rynthe and the others in their tracks.
Rynthe examined the True Head Cultist. It was clear that the cultist leader was nearing his breaking point. The inky darkness that obscured his face was nearly gone, revealing an old man whose skin, though usually the rich tan common on Aegis, was now the ashen white of fresh parchment. Sweat rolled down his face, staining his beard, and he was leaning heavily against his walking stick, barely able to stand as mana continually flowed from him into the damage shield above.
But that spell was still powerful, thought Rynthe. That gave him pause.
“How,” said the True Head Cultist, his thin chest heaving as he stared at the ground. The cultists on either side of him—two in front, two behind—looked at him worriedly, but they stayed on guard.
Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion Page 30