Five more wordsmiths walked in, dressed in combat gear, complete with ski masks. They were part of the primary assault team that was going to attack the CCC centre. Today, the core team would be going in themselves too. I was sure that Zauberin must be sorely missing Lonigan and Necros. They had walked out soon after the kid had teleported. I had seen Necros taking down Akto, something that everyone else in the room but Lonigan had missed.
Zauberin was happily clueless of their betrayal. She found it convenient to reach the conclusion that the boy had done something to them too. To further her own interests, she spread the rumour that the boy had killed the two using a conjured up scape, leaving no trace of their bodies or souls. This kind of dastardly deed had provoked the ire of the Free Word, and soon all the members had signed up for the hunt. Avenging their comrades turned out to be a lot more motivating for the Free Word gang than saving their precious Zauberin’s neck.
Finally Akto came in. He was dressed pretty much as usual, but had a dark cloak covering him. I could make out glints from beneath showing that he had quite a few blades about his person. The filthy head bandage was still in place. He was a lot surlier and very, very serious about what the Free Word was trying today. Dew had been like a daughter to him, and like he had said at least a dozen times in the last couple of days, he had lost a brother and a daughter. Though there were constant reports that Dew was with the boy and was helping him do all that he did, Akto continued to persist with the idea that the boy had run a scape of some sort to brainwash the girl. He was joining the hunt today with six of his men.
With everyone gathered, Zauberin signalled me to start recording. Clearing her throat, she started speaking, “Brothers and sisters, we have the enemy cornered. The same enemy who attacked our warren, injured our fellow wordsmiths, and humiliated us. The CCC has him sequestered in their local bureau. I do not know what they intend to do with him, but they will not execute him. There is also a good chance that they might slip up and let him escape, considering that they do not know his devious ways as well as we do. We will not have a better chance of bringing him down. We are going to execute him while he lies helpless within CCC precincts.”
I could see the duality of the message. This was a clear case of overkill. They were attacking a CCC bureau, something that would result in a serious backlash that could hurt all of Wordkind. I could not believe the lengths to which this woman was going to complete her mission. But then, Sign had been cruelly emphatic with her warnings. To all the people assembled there, these were rousing words. They had all heard about how a mere boy had ‘humiliated’ their beloved leaders and senior wordsmiths. Doctored information showed how he had merely got lucky and how skill had nothing to do with all that he pulled off. It had become a matter of personal pride to hunt down the boy. Lonigan and Necros had been feared and admired. They had also been two of the most powerful members of the Free Word, adding muscle to the vision of a world free of the Guild. Hunting down their murderer was a serious incentive. Zauberin had gone ahead and sweetened the pot by offering senior membership to anyone who managed to kill the boy. She looked around, nodding her approval at the wave of hate that went through all the room’s inhabitants. I was glad to see the doubt on Isis and Wind’s faces. They had not let Zauberin’s plans lead them into a hate-filled frenzy. But willing or not, they were part of today’s events. I wondered what they would do if they were the ones who had to utter the fateful words that would kill the boy.
“Today, we go in full-force,” Zauberin continued, “We have five of the best Free Word hunters here. We also have Akto and his group who shall help us in whatever way they can. I have also called a band of norm mercenaries who will be helping us with breaking into the bureau and eliminating the CCC defences. As you can see we are leaving no stone unturned. Gaia, the Healer and I will be coming along with you too. Today, we throw everything the Free Word has at that hated boy. Let us see him weave his way out of this one!”
There were furious cries of ‘yeah’ at that, as most people in the room broke out in cheers and applause, exchanging high-fives. I felt sick to my stomach. I could not believe the amount of bullshit flying around. I could see that the five hunters were the ones who made the most noise. They were all extremely excited about going on a hunt with the legendary founders of the Free Word. I exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Isis and Wind. I wondered whether I should try and disappear somewhere comfortable while these maniacs went hunting the boy. I did not want to be around when the CCC came down on this crazy group. Wordsmith or not, they would be merciless in exterminating everyone involved in an attack on their bureau. I had once been in the same room as a Yen and would do anything possible to avoid going through that experience again. The very memory of that alien presence made my skin crawl.
My stomach sank as Zauberin turned to me. I knew what was coming. “Historian, you joined us but recently, but have been a faithful companion of the Free Word. I would like for you to be there at the final chapter of this epic battle. We can then have a detailed account of today’s attack and the parts that different members of the group played in bringing it to a successful conclusion.”
The others once again roared. I noticed Isis give me a rueful grin. I guess I knew now just how she felt about going along on this venture. I silently nodded my assent. There was nothing else I could do in a group like this. Zauberin smiled and patted my shoulder, turning back to the group to iron out details. I should have listened to my heart and sank out of sight in Goa. I doubted if I would live out the day and ever be able to go back home.
Amra
The Yaqui joined me before I reached the cell. I had worked with several Interrogators in the past, and he was a personal favourite. The Yaqui, contrary to his name, was not really an American Indian. No one really knew where he was from. His name stemmed from an incident where one of his subjects who had been due for a terminal interrogation was delivered to the disposal squad with the scalp hanging off. Some smartarse had christened him Yaqui and the name had stuck. He did not object to it. He never objected to anything. The Yaqui was completely dedicated to his work, bothered by nothing else. He fell in step as I walked down the corridor, nodding in greeting. I was not feeling particularly sunny either and nodded in return.
We reached the cell and walked in. Call it instinct or sixth sense, I instantly knew that something was wrong. The two of them were lying on the restrainers like they should have been. Everything looked alright, and I couldn’t see anything very obviously wrong, but I could feel the hair on the nape of my neck bristle as I sensed danger of some sort. I flicked my quirt on and kept it ready. I wondered what the boy could have done against all the restraining measures and the drugs that were administered to him. The Yaqui seemed unperturbed though and walked to the interrogation stand, calmly unpacking his case, pulling out the tools of his trade. I drew some comfort from his attitude, and approached the two unconscious wordsmiths.
I closed my eyes and sent out a sharp mental nudge to both of them. I could feel that the boy was extremely woozy, but the girl was on the verge of consciousness. I was not surprised. The boy would still be in shock from the jab I had given him. It should have seriously injured his vocal chords and he probably would not be able to talk for the rest of his life. But considering he had not much time left to live, that was not really a concern. I saw the girl open her eyes. I sent the boy another sharp nudge, making it a whole lot more powerful than it needed to be. His eyes fluttered open, the pain from the nudge bouncing back satisfactorily through the mental link. I wished I could weave a mindscape like some of those creepy wordsmiths, and get into the self-satisfied brat’s head to see how cocky he was feeling right then. I nodded to the Yaqui to lay out his equipment on the tray so that they could see it in all its glory. There were some impressive blades, saws, hammers, pliers, drills and a whole lot of other hardware, all of it custom-made to work on the human body. Each piece in that set had a common goal; to inflict maximum pain with minimum damage.
This ensured that the subject survived for a long time and revealed all there was to know. In terminal interrogation cases, the Yaqui would usually administer a quick cut to the throat at the end of the interrogation, dispensing a mercifully quick death to the victim who would by then be half insane with nerve-wracking pain. I smiled as I saw all the equipment. In a couple of instances, the subjects had told all just at the sight of all those horrendous tools. I could see the girl’s eyes widen at the range of equipment laid out before them. The boy was befuddled and did not really react, his face slack from what was probably an overdose of the paralytic drug.
Once I had given them enough time to study and appreciate the equipment and wonder about the different ways in which they it might be used, I spoke to them, “You two have blazed quite the trail. Goa, Andaman and Nicobar Islands, Pondicherry, and then Skye. Over the top, Continuum-wrenching scapes in every one of these places. You have been a lot of trouble and have inconvenienced me no end. You have also caused harm to my team members with the stunt you pulled when they tried to capture you. Do you acknowledge and accept all this?”
The girl was paralysed with terror. She did not say anything. The boy responded with a feeble telepathic ‘yes’. I smirked as I looked down on the one who had had so many powerful people tracking him, lying so pathetically helpless before me. I found myself wishing that he would show a bit more spirit. There seemed to be no pleasure in crowing over such a weak subject. I did not think they would give us any trouble. The boy would probably be all too glad to tell us what we needed to know. It was almost disappointing. I reminded myself to be professional. I needed the information, and then, as per the recommendation from the Lirii, this boy would be executed. I did not really need to inflict pain on him or his accomplice.
“Listen carefully,” I told him, looking him in the eye, “I need you to tell me everything that has happened to you ever since you first realised that you had the gift. Try not to lie or miss out any details. If I even suspect that you are lying, I will ask my friend here to start his work on you. Do you understand?” Again I heard an eager ‘yes’ from the boy, as if all he wanted to do was avoid even the possibility of pain. I felt disgusted at the complete lack of spunk in this creature.
“Go on then. Start talking.”
I picked up the dictaphone and switched it on, ready to repeat aloud for the benefit of the record all that he sent me telepathically. I saw the girl’s eyes go wide as she realised that he was going to talk. I saw by the flickers in their eyes that they were talking to each other, probably having an argument about him squealing so easily. I let them sort it out. The girl finally relaxed, her eyes still suspicious and furious. The boy looked at me and started talking to me telepathically.
The boy’s words came in a rush, a veritable flood of information. I struggled, trying to capture all that he had to say. It was pretty incredible. The boy had started out his journey as a cipher. He told me about his first encounter with Wordkind when he ran into Andrew Wallachian just before he was murdered by a demon. His description concurred with that of the demon I had seen in Silvus’s office. I understood why Silvus had been so intrigued by that report. The demon might have noticed the boy and reported his presence to Silvus, who for some reason had suspected him of being the Wordscapist right from the start. The boy went on to tell me about Alain de Vorto and how De Vorto had been pulled into wakeful existence by Silvus’s scape. De Vorto had apparently come to him as a voice in the head, and then later, they had woven a separate form for De Vorto.
The boy was adding a lot of interesting detail to the information the Lirii had provided. I wondered where De Vorto was. The boy was on a roll. I let him talk. He spoke of their escape from the Andaman island, and then their trip to Scotland. He talked about an encounter with the faerie and then with hundreds of spooks. He had taken them all out and apparently without much effort. Most of it corroborated with what I knew. I just couldn’t believe that this spineless wimp had done all that he was talking about. He finally claimed that he wasn’t the Wordscapist. It was De Vorto all along. He was just a cipher who had been messed up by the experience of having De Vorto in his head. He spoke about some kind of a Continuum breach in his head that was a threat to the entire planet, and how he needed help, the CCC’s help.
I tired of keeping up with him, and gestured to him that I needed a break. He had been transmitting for nearly an hour and I had been speaking aloud throughout. I paused the dictaphone and wondered at all that the boy had relayed. While most of it was in line with what the Lirii had told me, the last part was a new twist. The Continuum breach didn’t make much sense and I didn’t understand how one weak cipher could be a threat to the whole plane.
“Where is Alain de Vorto now?” I asked him.
“No clue,” the response came back immediately, “he was with us in Skye, but then had to go talk to someone about potentially fixing this situation.”
“Can you talk to him now? Can you send out a message and ask him to come here?”
“No, I cannot. I can communicate with him only when he wants me to. Other times, he just goes off air.”
I wondered if he was speaking the truth. But everything he had said sounded true so far. He was too scared to try anything else. I was in a fix. The Lirii had asked me to hunt down Alain de Vorto, and now he was somewhere else. I could not execute the boy after all. And after talking to him, I was not interested in executing him either. He had turned out to be a spineless coward. I decided that I would use him to trap Alain de Vorto, and then I would send the boy and his accomplice to detention and leave it at that. I needed to know more about the spirit that Alain de Vorto had become. I wondered how we would go about trapping or destroying something like that. We had demon-hunters at the CCC, but they specialised in soulless beings generated from scapes gone awry. A spirit of a man who was still technically alive was quite complicated.
I saw the emergency light in the room glowing. I went to the communication console and switched it on. “Yes?” I asked, irritated at being disturbed.
“We’re under attack, Amra. It’s a team of norm mercenaries. We are sustaining heavy casualties. We have asked for backup. I would advise you use the teleport centre to leave with your prisoners.”
The Free Word! It could not be Silvus. He did not have the kind of firepower needed to attack a CCC bureau, especially since he had gone into hiding. The Free Word must know of the boy’s capture. They were trying to get him. I could not believe it! They dared to attack the CCC!
“Hold on,” I told the operator, “I am coming out.”
I turned around and looked at the boy. “You are going to have to call Alain de Vorto here,” I told the boy, “Keep trying and hope it works. In five minutes the Yaqui here will start on your girlfriend. And when he is done with her, he will start on you.”
The boy’s eyes went wide at this. He then opened his mouth and spoke distinctly, “Fuck you.”
My heart jumped straight to my mouth as I realised what that implied. In the same instant he let out a low whistle and all hell broke loose.
Slick
The toughest part had been getting Dew to play along. She was petrified and furious in equal parts. When Amra and her tough looking friend walked in, I could sense that she smelled something suspicious. That woman knew her job, I’ll give her that. But I was in my element now. I put up a fake shield to let her telepathic probes detect all that she would expect to find. I also summoned a simple physical protection scape around Dew and me to ensure that any crude measures they tried were deflected. I never took any risks where Dew was involved.
I decided to act obedient for a while. Everyone needed to know what was happening, especially the CCC. So, it made perfect sense for me to answer all the questions she had to ask. I also wanted to give her one more chance to redeem herself. I wanted to see if she would ease up on the cruel and violent act if I cooperated with her. Everything was going according to plan, and she looked like she might even consider lettin
g us go unharmed. The message from the operator about the attack changed all that. She decided that she had to get De Vorto immediately. I did not know who was engineering the attack, but I knew that it was for me. I decided that I had played enough. It was time to get my act together.
I let her finish her ominous sounding threat, and then gave her a succinct ‘fuck you’. At the same time, I whistled while mentally uttering a few select words, and summoned my old faithful. Sliverette was my first real scape, even if it had been with De Vorto riding shotgun. I had gone through the words in my head many times in the past couple of days. She was extremely powerful, but I knew I could control her if I tried. I had made changes to the scape that called her up, ensuring that the direction and closure were no longer problems. Now was the time to see how it worked out. I shattered the sugar bands around my hands and legs as I swung away from the table, just in time to avoid Amra’s quirt. I had a shield, but I did not want anyone knowing about it if possible. At the same time Dew also sprang from her table. The big guy with all the vicious tools coolly pulled out a scalpel and threw it at me. Halfway to me, the scalpel met Sliverette.
Wordscapist: The Myth (The Way of the Word Book 1) Page 29