“It’s true,” said Raedren, speaking calmly even as he leapt over dead bodies. “Violence and cowardice: the two sides of Mazik Kil’Raeus.”
“I hate you both!” wailed Gavi.
Flying across the arena, the trio sprinted in a long, shallow arc toward the walls. The aku followed close behind, knuckles dragging on the ground as they closed the gap.
Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren burst through the crowd of retreating allies like escaped convicts making their last dash toward freedom. There were only walls ahead, but they ran nonetheless.
“Get out of the way!” Mazik waved his arms. “Run! They’re coming! Run the fuck away!”
An angry roar shook the air, and then the two aku burst through of the crowd behind them. People yelled and scattered, guards and soldiers alike scrambling out of the way as the monsters barreled through them, their long arms batting grown men and women aside like busted dolls.
Mazik glanced to their left. There was the Gate of Life, open just enough to allow the three of them through, but not so much that the aku could follow—but it was also crowded, with the last few former hostages being joined by the injured from the city’s defenders. The trio continued curving the other way.
The trio pulled up along the wall. Behind them the aku roared as they continually crashed into each other, the two monstrosities trampling through the obstacle course pieces strewn along the walls like bulldozers through bowling pins. The trio could hear the pounding of the monsters’ feet, feel their breath on the back of their necks, and sense their looming presence. Mazik glanced behind—
“Keep going straight!” said Mazik as he lurched to the side, throwing himself against the wall. The nearest aku swung, and its fist collided with the wall as Mazik ducked and rolled away.
“Fuck this shiiiit!” said Mazik as he continued rolling, narrowly avoiding the downswing of another fist the size of his chest. He popped up, found Gavi and Raedren, and headed straight toward them.
The air rippled in front of Mazik. The other aku appeared, sickening indigo smoke curling off its body.
“Invisibility,” said Mazik, skidding to a halt. “They can still do that? Oh fu—”
Crash! A massive fist pounded the ground, barely missing Mazik as he dove out of the way.
“Stop interrupting me when I’m talking!” yelled Mazik as he pushed himself off the ground, spitting sand. Blue mana swirled around him, and he jumped straight up, sailing over the aku’s next punch and flying toward its face. He stuck out both heels and jackknifed into the creature’s forehead.
“Yowch!” cried Mazik as he ricocheted off. Flopping to the ground, he rolled into a crouch and looked down. The heels of his boots were smoking.
Gavi brought her sword down on the aku’s back. Indigo tendrils snapped at her, rattling her blade and sizzling across her hands. She cursed, shaking her arms as she backed away. The beast ignored her and swung at Mazik.
“It’s got a damage shield too!” said Gavi. She glanced at the other aku; it was lumbering over to surround Mazik, and was nearly there. “Anytime we get close, it’s going to zap us.”
Mazik didn’t have time to reply. Blue winds shot out from his feet, propelling him away just as the creature swung, its purple fist opening a furrow in the sand. On contact the ground exploded, showering the other aku with a mini sandstorm.
Mazik’s feet pounded the ground as he accelerated toward Gavi and Raedren. “Run run run run run!”
Mazik watched as one of the aku fell back. It took a deep breath, mana swirling in front of its split lips.
“I hate everything!” yelled Mazik as the barriers around him darkened.
The aku exhaled, and Mazik was hurled forward, tumbling end over end as mana washed over him, and then exploded. Mazik emerged from the fireball upside down, his singed robes flapping around him like the tattered sails of a doomed ship.
Mazik landed, rolled three times, and then popped up, landing awkwardly on his feet.
“Come on!” said Gavi.
As Gavi pulled Mazik along and Raedren followed behind, green barriers trailing him, Mazik looked around, hoping for the aid Major Rur had promised. Most of the city’s forces were still in the middle of the arena, where the True Head Cultist was, but there was one group on an intercept course with the trio. It looked like they would meet near the Gate of Shame.
That’s when the light at the end of the tunnel was snuffed out. There wasn’t one group, but two. The larger group did consist of allies, mostly adventurers and soldiers from what he could tell, with Major Rur and Rynthe among them. But running in front of them was a smaller group of cultists. Mazik could see Crimson and Savage at the head, followed by another five, and they were going to reach the trio before their allies did.
They were also chanting spells, the first of which they were casting now.
“Fuck my liiife!” yelled Mazik as the ground erupted around him. The trio stumbled as the ground bucked beneath them—and then the cultists were on them, and the aku a second later.
It was chaos. Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren leapt in three different directions as a hail of spells and fists the size of battering rams collided with the sand and wall.
Gavi pitched forward, and cried out as Savage’s sword opened up a long cut on her right arm. She whipped the cultist’s legs out from under her.
Raedren stumbled into the melee, wrapping himself in barriers. But the aku behind him swung, and there was a sickening thud. Raedren collapsed, scrabbling as blood dripped from his forehead.
Mazik threw himself against the wall, and immediately regretted it as three spells and an aku’s fist hurtled toward him. Mazik froze—and then his military training kicked in. He hurled himself to his left, taking two of the spells on his crossed arms before collapsing to the ground, sizzling.
Then Major Rur’s group collided with the cultists and aku, increasing the chaos tenfold.
Mazik climbed to his hands and knees, and found that he had fallen close to Gavi. Firing a quick spell to drive Savage away, he looked at the aku looming over him—and found it clawing at the ground, unable to reach him.
“I’ve got it! Go!” called Raedren over the sound of battle as two soldiers defended him. Nearby was Rynthe, firing spell after spell at the other aku.
Mazik looked at the glowing green bands wrapped around the aku’s waist, legs, and shoulders. They were barriers, which Raedren was using to forcibly bind the monster to the ground.
Mazik rose and scooped up Gavi, elbowing Savage out of the way as he bolted into the open. Suddenly there was empty ground around them, and they could finally breathe.
That’s when it got worse.
Mazik’s world spun as someone hit him in the back of the head, nearly dropping him in a single blow. He lurched forward, and then an explosion forced him to finish the movement, Gavi spilling from his arms as the two of them were hurled to the ground.
Mazik’s knees created twin furrows as he skidded to a stop, and then staggered to his feet, sweeping with an unsteady fist behind him. His assailant dodged it easily with a flutter of black robes.
“Now now, don’t tell me you forgot about me, huh?” said an unhinged voice. Mazik threw up his arms blindly, blocking the next strike by sheer luck. That’s when his vision began to clear.
Standing in front of Mazik, in his showy robes with the jewels and the feathers and the long gray beard, was the True Head Cultist.
Mazik’s lip twitched.
“You will give me the Edge!” snarled the True Head Cultist, dashing forward. Mazik held up his arms, desperately trying to strengthen his tattered barriers. The True Head Cultist raised his hand, said a single word, and then slapped Mazik’s barriers. They shattered in a single blow.
Mazik reeled. He brought up a hand, aiming a point-blank nuke at the True Head Cultist’s stomach. The cultist leader caught his wrist and wrenched his hand to the side, forcing Mazik’s spell to fire into the ground. Then the True Head Cultist drove a knee into Mazik’s stomach,
followed by a punch to the face and a kick to the side of the head. Mazik crumpled.
The True Head Cultist reached down and caught Mazik by the arm. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out the other half of the cultist knife. He inspected it.
“Hmm. Good,” said the True Head Cultist. He pointed a finger at Mazik’s forehead, indigo mana coalescing around it.
“No!” yelled Gavi. Surprised, the True Head Cultist dropped Mazik and stepped back, though his barriers easily turned aside Gavi’s lunge. Gavi didn’t let him rest. She waded back in.
“Tenacious woman,” said the True Head Cultist, dodging away from Gavi’s knife.
“Go fuck yourself!” spat Gavi, stabbing at him again and again. She had been reduced to using her backup knife with her offhand, but she was making up for her lack of dexterity with ferocity and speed.
Somewhere behind them, Raedren finally succumbed to the strain, slumping over as the aku ripped free of its bonds. The monstrosity immediately barreled into Major Rur’s group.
The True Head Cultist looked toward the middle of the arena, and found a large group of defenders heading straight toward him.
The cultist leader leapt away, his hands dragging along the ground. Indigo spikes erupted from the sand where his fingers touched, shooting at Gavi.
“Another time, perhaps,” said the True Head Cultist. He turned and ran toward the Gate of Shame, and the hostages that were even now being shoved into the arena.
Gavi’s cursing would have made a sailor proud. She realized their mistake—in all their preoccupation since the aku were summoned, they had completely forgotten about the hostages the True Head Cultist used as a distraction. Unfortunately it looked like they had many more than they originally showed, as fifty or more captives were dragged through the open gate, their arms and legs bound, and gags shoved into their mouths.
Gavi looked behind them, at the aku rampaging through Major Rur’s group. They were doing a lot of damage, but the city’s defenders had taken a cue from Raedren and were using barriers to restrain the monsters, making them easier to hit.
“Shit!” said Gavi. “We need to stop him!”
“Ahgreed,” slurred Mazik as he staggered over. Raedren ran over to them, indigo mana streaming off him, courtesy of the angry cultists behind them. Mazik draped an arm around his best friends’ shoulders and pointed. “Ahfter him!”
As the True Head Cultist skipped across the sand like a jet ski skimming wave tops, he raised both halves of the broken knife over his head, blood running down his hand as the naked blade bit into his flesh. Slotting the two sides together, he spoke a few rasping words, and a flash of light filled the arena.
When it cleared, the True Head Cultist lowered a hand. The Edge of Ebon Darkness was whole again.
“Not good,” said Raedren, who was treating Gavi’s injured arm as they ran.
Gavi looked around, but it was no good. The other group of defenders would reach the Gate of Shame before the trio did, but it would be long seconds before either of them could reach the cultist leader.
As the True Head Cultist closed the distance, indigo runes lit up all over the arena. Not just on the arena floor, but all over the building, runes flaring to life in the stands, on the uppermost level, and in the hallways that ringed the building.
That’s when the True Head Cultist dove into the mass of hostages, his knife lashing out as he passed. People dropped in a horrific spray of blood.
Dark words were intoned. “By your grace my Lord, please accept these meager sacrifices,” said the True Head Cultist as he cut into bound captives, “so that you might join us in purifying this undeserving world of the unrighteous, of the blasphemous, of the damned. Amou.” The True Head Cultist reared back, the knife glinting hungrily.
There was a flash of blue light, and more screams rent the night air.
That’s when the city’s defenders arrived, with Captain Ankt in the lead. To say that Captain Ankt was angry would have been an understatement. Professional berserkers, upon seeing him, would have taken notes. Despite being a non and having little magick at his disposal, Captain Ankt lunged through the dying captives and tackled the True Head Cultist, bearing the bearded man to the ground.
The True Head Cultist responded in kind. The two men snarled at each other, feathers and sequins falling away as Captain Ankt repeatedly slammed the cultist’s head into the ground. The True Head Cultist barked several words and then put a hand on Captain Ankt’s chest, hurling the guard captain away in a burst of mana. He pointed at the guard captain, mana coalescing around his finger as he rose.
“Nope!” said Mazik, flying in and tackling the True Head Cultist again before he could go in for the kill. The two casters tumbled away in a ball of flapping robes and flailing limbs.
“Get everyone away from here!” yelled Mazik as he grappled for the knife. He grunted as the True Head Cultist dug a knee into his stomach, and he tried to bite him. Mazik responded by headbutting the enemy leader in the forehead, disorienting them both. “We’ll hold them—hey, stop that!—off!”
The True Head Cultist collected his knees against Mazik’s chest and pushed, throwing Mazik off. As soon as there was an opening, Gavi lunged, but indigo waves shot out and knocked her back. His boots digging into the soft ground, the True Head Cultist rose and ran after the scattering hostages, his mana pounding the guards and soldiers that were dragging them to safety.
Captain Ankt grunted and flew at the cultist leader from behind, ramming into him shoulder-first. The enemy leader tossed him aside, and then staggered as multiple spells struck him. Mazik dove at him again, a glowing hand extended. “Mazik Missiles!”
Multiple bolts of mana leapt from Mazik’s hand, slamming into the True Head Cultist and exploding, again and again and again.
The True Head Cultist emerged from the conflagration, spent mana arcing across his barriers. His fine black robes were in tatters, its sequins scattered, its gems blackened, and its feathers burned down to sad little stubs. He flexed his hands. His arms too were finally visible, his charred sleeves revealing muscular arms that rippled with sacred symbols carved into his flesh.
He looked around. He had sacrificed two-thirds of the remaining captives, but it was not enough.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way,” said the True Head Cultist. He took a deep breath, leaned back, and spread his arms wide. “Children of Amougourest! Come to me!”
All across the battlefield, cultists disengaged and sprinted toward their besieged leader, each one zeroing in on him despite the darkness and the chaos. The city’s defenders were battered away by the tide.
“Get him! We can’t let him get away!” yelled Captain Ankt as the True Head Cultist disappeared. Spells converged on every centimeter of ground near where the cultist leader was last seen, and at least one struck him, pitching him back into visibility.
That’s when the True Head Cultist decided to dispense with the subtlety. Gathering energy in his legs with a few muttered words, he burst across the sand with speed he never exhibited before. Spells went wide as the True Head Cultist sprinted back to the middle of the arena. All the cultists turned to meet him there, except for the aku, which continued their rampage uninterrupted.
Captain Ankt cursed as Gavi jogged over to him and helped him up.
“Don’t help me! Kill him!” said Captain Ankt, jabbing a finger at the True Head Cultist.
“I think you vastly overestimate my abilities,” said Gavi.
While the city’s defenders were delayed by the two aku, the True Head Cultist came to a stop in the middle of the arena, back at the center of the magickal array where it all began. Around him were all of the cultists who could break free.
The True Head Cultist looked at his people. Their dissatisfaction and rage at being so close and yet denied was palpable. The True Head Cultist nodded. They all knew what had to be done.
“My brothers and sisters,” said the cultist leader softly, keeping his voice even to mask his guilt. �
��We require more sacrifices.”
The kneeling cultists immediately lowered their heads, baring their necks.
The True Head Cultist hung his head as well, giving every indication of regret. Then he raised the reforged blade up high, mana streaming behind it.
The city’s defenders watched in horror as the mana around the True Head Cultist grew brighter and darker, deep black and purple swirling and intersecting like two dragons locked in battle. All around the True Head Cultist his followers fell, their blood spilling onto the trampled sand.
“He’s killing his own people…” said Gavi.
The aku and the other cultists pulled away, and the city’s defenders let them, too transfixed by the horrific show. A thin line of light slashed across a line of cultists, and they all toppled, crashing noiselessly onto a cushion of bodies. Now the plume of mana around the True Head Cultist began to swirl, its colors mixing like a tornado spinning upward. Great arcs of power shot out like bolts of lightning, sending sand and rock flying as they scythed across the stands. The pulsing runes around the arena beat faster and changed, the night glowing blood red as the eldritch symbols burned.
The True Head Cultist stood in the eye of the storm as his remaining brethren were pushed away by the energy that swirled around him.
“We should probably do something about this!” said Gavi. She started to charge, but stopped. The surviving cultists, including Crimson, Savage, and the two aku, stood between them and the cultist leader.
“Agreed,” said Mazik. He took a deep breath. “Everyone, let’s nuke this bitch!”
Spells flew toward the True Head Cultist from the Houkian lines. Many of them were caught on Crimson’s barriers, but the ones that got past splashed into the cloud of mana, disappearing before they ever reached their target. The True Head Cultist ignored them, still casting.
WHOOMPFH! Wind and sound pulsed outward like air displaced by an atomic blast. The pressure drove the cultists to the ground, but the city’s defenders were far enough away to escape most of its effects.
The True Head Cultist clapped his hands together, and all across the battlefield the corpses of those whose throats he had slit were pulled toward him like metal filings to a magnet. They piled up at his knees, his waist, to the top of his chest. Corpses flew from the Gate of Shame like they were being tugged by marionette strings, defenders diving out of the way of the ballistic cadavers. Still chanting, the True Head Cultist’s eyes rolled back in his head as his words spewed out faster and faster. Bodies roiled and clung to him, pushing him higher. Slowly, he began to rise into the air.
Firesign 1 - Wage Slave Rebellion Page 32