by CM Raymond
She blew across the surface of the steaming brew and looked at Gregory. “Then who are you? Some sort of spy, too?”
“Me?” Gregory asked. “I’m still just Gregory. Same guy… Completely different life.” He gestured toward the people of the tower brimming around them. “As you can see. But my question is, what are you doing here?”
Violet took a long drink of tea, then sighed before jumping into her story.
“I came here because I didn’t know what else to do. After you—” she glanced around the room “—all of you did what you did, Adrien was furious. He gave a very impressive speech about the dangers that you all presented to the good life we were living in the city, and how if we wanted to preserve our lives, we would ready ourselves for attack. The students, all of them, including me, were inspired. You know how Adrien can be.” She looked at Gregory with pleading eyes. “Classes were canceled, or so they said. In fact, they really just changed. The faculty began teaching how to use our gifts for combat.”
Hannah nodded, listening along. It was all as she assumed, but she wanted to get to the better part of the story.
“There was a problem for a few of us,” she said. “Some of the students had siblings that had been made a part of Adrien’s Scholars Program. I was told that Robert, my brother, had been taken into the program and that it was residential, which, at the time, made sense. But once the pivot happened, once we all began to train for war, I expected the best of the students to reemerge in the community—to become part of the great plan to thwart the rebels and re-establish peace in Arcadia.”
Glancing at Gregory, Hannah saw the scowl growing on his face. He had been accepted into Adrien’s scholar program—and it ended with him being chained to the machine, his power draining out of him.
“Go on,” Hannah urged her.
“Rumors started to circulate in the residence halls and between training times that Adrien had used our friends and family members in a most horrible way. He… he sucked the life out of them.” She paused to sip on her tea. “I don’t know what is true and what isn’t. But I couldn’t get any answers inside the city. So, I came to the only people I knew who might tell me something. So... do you know? Do you know what happened to my brother?”
Hannah opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Gregory reached a hand out and placed it on Violet’s knee.
“The rumors are true. Adrien killed every last person who accepted his scholarship. I’m sorry.”
Violet stared at the floor. She didn’t cry, or scream, or shake—she just stared downward, as if she could see through it. Finally, it was clear that she made up her mind about something.
“Thank you for telling me the truth. Now, I have something to tell you, Deborah.”
“It’s Hannah.”
“Sorry. I know I was a complete bitch to you—there’s no excuse. But maybe I can make it up. Adrien’s plan is to attack tomorrow. He’s coming with everything he’s got. Soldiers, the student magicians, Capitol Guard, everything.”
Hannah’s face twisted in confusion. “Why the hell would you tell me all of this?”
“Because if that bastard killed my brother, I want to see him burn—and apparently, you’re the one who can make that happen, Hannah.”
A small smile lit across Hannah’s face. “Thank you, Violet. And, for the first time, I think that you and I just might agree on something. Adrien is a bastard.” Her face became as serious as death. “He killed your brother—he killed mine, too. Day by day, he is killing all of Arcadia, whether they know it or not, and it is all for his own selfish gain. But if your intel is correct, that all ends tomorrow. How would you like to help?”
Violet placed her tea down and stood. “Just point me in the right direction.”
Hannah stood as well. “Then welcome to the revolution. You’re just in time.”
****
Hannah stood by the window, watching Sal, infected by the druid’s brew, fly loops and turns over the tower’s lawn. Even with the weight of all that was about to happen, she couldn’t help but smile at her seemingly possessed dragon.
She turned and took in the room. Each of them sat around the table talking, unaware of the meeting they were about to have. Only Gregory sat quietly at his normal seat at the table. His hands were crossed, and he stared at his white knuckles. She knew that while the others were discussing their days and trying to best one another with the achievements of their students, Gregory sat working over in his head the design of his machine, only partially built in the basement, and trying to configure the final steps to complete his task.
The door swung open, and everyone turned to see Ezekiel standing in the doorway. His face bore a severity they had seldom encountered.
“Take your seats,” he said, and the room complied. He made his way to the head of the table, pulled out the chair, but remained standing. After giving his leaders time to get settled, he began. “It is time for us to consider the plan for battle. We must make haste, for—”
Karl cleared his throat with a violent cough, and everyone turned to face him. The rearick, though rough around the edges and more likely to speak a hard truth than a word of praise, was loved and admired by all of them. Clearly, he was also the most experienced warrior in the room.
“Prepare for battle? My men are hardly marching in a straight line.” He smoothed his beard and looked over at Amelia. “And the magicians, if yeh want to call ‘em that, couldn’t conjure a fireball big enough to warm me scrotum.”
“Surely, it couldn’t take much,” Parker said with a grin, drawing laughter from the room.
Karl waved his hand at his friend and continued, “Scheisse, I’m just saying let’s learn to walk before we go kick some arse, Ezekiel. Get the fundamentals, then we take the fight to them.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, my friend,” Ezekiel said. “Problem is, I’m not talking about taking the battle to them. Quite the contrary. I have just met with Hannah—” he motioned to his student “—and she has come upon some very interesting, and frankly, terrifying information. A young woman from the Academy has defected to our community. She has come with news from the city. They know where we are, and they are coming—tomorrow.”
Karl snorted. “Gah! Nothing good will come from this. A tactic older than your beard, wizard. Send in one of their own lookin’ for protection. I say it’s perfect horseshit, but if you let me talk to this lass…”
Ezekiel ignored the rearick, continuing without missing a beat. “Violet, a noblewoman, has allegedly come to the realization that the people she thought wanted good, actually desired only ill. Her brother was among the misled souls whose power—and life—was sacrificed upon the altar of Adrien’s mighty ship. She came for truth; she stays for justice.”
The room darkened, eyes were fastened on him, knowing there was more.
“Young Violet found us because they know we are here. She came this day for information because she knows that this time tomorrow, we may have already met our demise.”
The room exploded, everyone speaking at once. Ezekiel tapped his staff on the floor, drawing them back to his attention. “There is no time for this. I have not gathered around children, but magicians, warriors, and masters of various crafts. Now is the time to settle our plan, to know our roles, or else the young noblewoman’s fear—the assumption of our defeat—will come to fruition.”
Gregory slowly put his hand in the air. Ezekiel gave a permissive nod. “How do we know it isn’t some sort of trick? I knew Violet well in Arcadia. I mean, I grew up with her. She’s always been a…” his eyes caught Hannah’s, “Frankly? A real bitch. Her story about her brother, while moving, was the perfect guise, and, no offense, Hannah, she delivered it to the perfect person… someone who could relate.”
“We know,” Hadley interjected. “After Hannah reported to Ezekiel he brought in Julianne and me to do our thing.”
Julianne took over. “It’s true. The girl is both terrified and angry. She wants
to see Adrien fall as badly as any of us. I have no doubt she tells the truth. But…” The master mystic let her words trail off.
“But what?” Hannah asked, crinkling her nose.
Hadley leaned in. “It’s the problem with our mental magic. We’re really good at getting inside of people’s minds. Once in there, we can read their emotions, their motivations, and understand exactly what they are thinking.”
Gregory laughed. “But you don’t know if Adrien is really attacking tomorrow or if Violet just really, really believes they are.”
“Exactly,” Julianne replied.
Shaking his head, the engineer continued to laugh. “Brilliant. I never thought of it like that. It’s so simple. Just imagine what one would be able to do if they were to—”
“Gregory!” Hannah shot at her friend. “Not now.”
“Oh, right.”
Ezekiel pulled out the chair and sat. His team waited for his wisdom. “Regardless, we have to prepare as if it were true. I know the timing is bad, but with his forces coming to us, we nevertheless have a strategic advantage. What’s more, they don’t know that we know. So, we should have some measure of surprise. But roles remain the same.” He looked over at Karl. “Your men are our muscle on the ground. Believe in your men; they are more ready than you can imagine.”
Karl nodded. “Hope so, wizard. We’re going to need ‘em.”
Without a response, he turned his eyes to Amelia. “The physical magicians will support the ground crew. Block their magician’s attacks and offer some sort of cover support. Make sure your strongest are ready to fight.”
“And the others?”
“We’ll get to that.” Casting his eyes toward Marcus, he said, “Your people with the magitech will serve as our cover fire. They might not have accuracy, but when you’re dealing with a large crowd, a volley of power with adequate aim will be effective. Without your ranged attacks, their magitech gunners will walk right over us. Ida and Markell, the two mystics who have decided to help, will join with Hadley as our eyes and ears—and minds—on the ground. They can gain access, and their information will be invaluable. But, they will also be our communications team. We will have a perfect line of communication through the entire battle, an advantage that should not be underestimated.”
“Aye, I can hear the tales now—” Karl grinned “—and it wasn’t the steel or brute determination that won the fight, but the force of mind jabbering.”
Ezekiel gave him a quick glance and narrowed his eyes. Karl took the hint.
“We can expect they will be bringing the airship,” Ezekiel said. “We all know what it did to the Boulevard. It has more power than all of us combined. But Gregory there has been working on a mechanism to bring it down.”
Gregory stood. “You see, I have a hollowed-out beam that I have modified with the use of some physical computations and—”
“Not now, Gregory,” Ezekiel said. “We’ll get there. You’re on your own, son. And I know you can accomplish the task”
“Actually,” he said meekly. “I could use some help. Laurel’s to be exact.”
Ezekiel nodded. “Fine. Laurel, once you’ve finished with your defenses, you’re to report to Gregory. Do whatever he wants.”
Laurel raised one eyebrow and stared at Gregory. “Sounds like fun.”
He immediately turned a bright shade of pink.
“Not whatever you want, loverboy,” Hannah said with a grin, causing Gregory to sit and shrink in his chair.
Pointing his staff toward the roof, Ezekiel told them that he would orchestrate the fight from above. It would also be a vantage point that will allow him to, when possible, assist in the different team's maneuvers.
“And what about her?” Hadley asked with a nod toward Hannah.
Ezekiel smiled. “Hannah’s job is to kick as much ass as possible and drive the fear of the Matriarch into every fool that thought it was wise to come against them.”
The team fell silent and stared at her. They had all seen her power, and they all trusted that she would use it without hesitation.
Hannah shrugged. “Not only will I kick ass, I’ll look damned good while doing it.”
The team laughed, and Hannah was glad to break the tension, even though she knew they might not all come through the battle.
“Now, you know your roles,” Ezekiel muttered. “It’s time to lay out the plan in detail. If we stick to it, stay strong, and manage to find a little bit of luck, we should be able to make it through this. I, for one, am ready to see Adrien’s rule come to an end. Whatever happens tomorrow, that man dies. I can promise you that.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hannah tossed and turned as Sal lay next to her, snoring as loud as a broken gristmill. Laurel’s kaffe had taken its toll on him, and after nearly two hours of flying crazy loops around the tower, he finally crashed—and hard.
At least he got some practice in, she thought as she turned to her other side.
After the meeting, she was surprised that anyone could sleep, but the gentle sound of her roommates’ slumber accented the creature’s rumblings.
Finally realizing that hoping for rest was a lost cause, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, slid on her shoes, and tiptoed out of the room. Images of battle and her own fight against faceless Arcadians continued to swim through her mind. She needed some air, but didn’t want to see any of the men guarding the tower, so she went to the stairwell and climbed to the roof.
Her eyes widened as she saw a familiar silhouette in the moonlight. She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find rest.
“Remember the first time we were up here?” she said into the cold night air.
Ezekiel turned. His face was solemn, but then, as he pondered the question, it softened into a warm smile. “Of course. We meditated here, one of the first days of our time together.”
“You meditated here. I sat thinking, ‘What the hell did I get myself into?’ if I remember correctly.”
“That’s why you couldn’t do shit your first few days.”
She knocked her teacher with her hip, as they both looked out over the woods, illuminated by the moon that was nearly full. “That was a lifetime ago.”
“And… not even a year. Life is funny, is it not?”
She nodded, not needing to answer with her words.
“Have I ever really thanked you, Zeke?”
He turned, and his face looked older than ever in the light of the moon. “Why would you? I am the one that owes you thanks. You have given the people hope—just like she did in the days before the Age of Madness.”
“Let’s not get religious tonight.”
Ezekiel laughed. “We’re always getting religious, Hannah. Religion is simply the practices we enact based on the things we believe—even if we don’t understand them. Your use of magic is pretty damned religious.”
She thought about this for a moment and realized he was right, at least by that definition. “Will I ever really understand it—magic I mean?”
The old man stroked his beard. “Maybe.”
“Why maybe?”
“I have a feeling that if we live through this fight, you might have a chance to learn more than you want to know about the means and ends of our magic. But let’s finish this quest before we move onto the next, shall we?”
Hannah shrugged. “I guess. Only sometimes I think that if I understood my magic better, I could control it more, use it better. Like Gregory and all of his damned machines.”
“On the contrary—” he shifted his staff from his right hand to his left “—sometimes true belief in that which we do not understand makes the power fiercer.”
Hannah glanced over at him. “You know that half of what you say sounds like complete nonsense, right?”
“I do,” he said with a smile.
“Good. As long as we have that clear.” They stood in silence for a moment, and she finally asked, “Do you think we stand a chance?”
Ezekiel reached into
his bag and pulled out his pipe. Carefully packing it with the final scraps of his good herbs from the Heights, he tamped the bowl and nodded. “We do.”
She watched his rings of smoke float in the moonlight. “I can’t imagine how. They have hundreds, maybe thousands of soldiers. They’re all trained to kill and destroy; most have been doing it all of their lives. A year ago, I was only a pickpocket.”
Ezekiel took a step and squared his shoulders with hers. “Those men and women who will advance on us tomorrow, some of them are the best fighters in all of Irth. You’re right about that. But what are they fighting for?”
Hannah waited, hoping he would supply the answer to his own riddle. When it was apparent he really wanted her response, she said, “I don’t know. Glory. Honor. Maybe wealth.”
He nodded. “Yes. I think you’re right. Some of them also power and a seat at Adrien’s dreadful table. All of those are powerful influences, but they don’t amount to a fraction of why we fight.”
“And what’s that?”
“Religion,” he said, blowing his smoke.
She shook her head. “You’re a stubborn man, Zeke. We don’t all believe in the Matriarch and the Patriarch as you do.”
“I know. But that is not necessarily the religion I mean, though, for some of us it plays a part. We fight for something we believe in, but something we don’t fully understand. We fight for justice.”
Hannah laughed at his response. “We use that word a lot. Maybe so much I don’t know what it means sometimes.”
“Aye. That’s exactly what makes it so richly religious. Justice is the vision of how things ought to be. And we are ready to lay down our lives for that vision. Whether for the poor kid sleeping in the rubble of the Boulevard, the farmer who is cheated at the market, or the young woman, defenseless as far as she knows, in a back alley of the city I once loved.” The corners of his mouth turned up, almost in a smile. Hannah knew exactly what he was talking about. “We fight because we know things are wrong. We fight because we trust they can be better.”