Freedom by Fire

by C P MacDonald

  The old fighter struggled to get his hands underneath him and shakily tried to push himself off the floor but crashed back down to the ground, out cold.

  Beside Blayne, Morgan nodded his head in appreciation. “Nice move, she could have killed him but she twisted at the last second to avoid breaking his neck. Smooth.” Blayne shot the Knight a side glance, it wasn’t often he heard the old Knight give a compliment. Blayne himself had pulled off a few awesome moves during training but had never received a compliment for them, only criticism on what he could do better.

  Gunn rubbed his face nervously and asked, “You want to tell me why Blayne has to do this? You’re the professional soldier, a Knight. Isn’t this right up your alley?”

  “That is precisely why I can’t do it. I move like a Knight and fight like a Knight.” Holding up his blaster bracer he added, “By now several members of the crowd here would have noticed this. Some here may even know me as the Master of Knights for the House of Maxwell. No one here will fight me, and even if they did, I wouldn’t have the odds in my favor like an unknown would.” Patting a hand on Blayne's shoulder for emphasis, “We need an unheard of, a long shot, to get the odds we need to win big. With luck, one or two fights will give us enough credits.”

  “To buy Cadee,” Gunn muttered. He was still upset with himself for losing the young Princess.

  Blayne shrugged out of his jacket and unbuckled his holster, “I guess I’m next.”

  Morgan crossed his arms casually on his barreled chest and leaned against the pillar as calmly as if he was at a picnic in the park. “Just remember your training and you will be fine.”

  Blayne heard Gunn gulp loudly as he pointed, “You sure about that? Look at his opponent!”

  Blayne turned to look up in the ring and inhaled sharply. A mountain with legs was making its way into the ring, to the roar of the crowd around them. Blayne was a decent six feet, but this… giant… towered over him. His arms were as big around as Blayne's legs. A huge belly spilled out over his loincloth and shook with each massive step of a tree trunk for a leg.

  Gunn clapped Blayne on the back and whispered, “I don’t think he wants to fight you, I think he wants to eat you.”

  Morgan was still leaning against the pillar-like it was a warm Sunday afternoon on the farm, yawning. “Remember your training,” he repeated.

  Blayne took a deep breath and shook his arms to loosen them up before climbing the stairs and stepped through the ropes around the ring. He planted his feet and swayed side to side to loosen up muscles that had suddenly gone as tight as bowstrings. The massive fighter across the ring simply stood there and looked down his nose at the Prince. The roar of the crowd turned to laughter when they saw the size difference of the two fighters.

  The fights did not have rules, so there was no ring announcer to yell and build up the crowd or to start the fight. Without a word, the giant crossed the ring with a couple of long steps and swung a ham-sized fist right at Blayne's head. Blayne didn’t need fast reflexes to dodge the slow attack, he calmly sidestepped out of the way. From beside the giant, Blayne launched a fist into his ribs, right into the kidney. His fist sunk into the soft mass of fat surrounding the belly of the titan. Looking up at his opponent, Blayne wasn’t even sure if the guy had felt the punch. Darting back to avoid another slow swing of a large fist, Blayne reevaluated his situation. It was obvious just pounding on this goliath would be a waste of time, so he needed to come up with a better strategy.

  Blayne quickly studied his opponent. Where do you hit a mountain to hurt it? The man spun faster than Blayne would have thought physically possible, sending a large backhand right toward Blayne’s head. This time only his quick reflexes saved his head from being cracked like a watermelon. He ducked under the massive fist and watched it pass overhead in almost slow motion. But the giant’s spin gave him an idea. All that weight, all that size, was supported on two legs. An early lesson from Morgan popped into his mind, the Knight lecturing him with a long stick, popping him with it to emphasize the locations he was talking about. And he remembered the feeling when Morgan had whacked him across the knee saying, “If a man can’t stand, he can’t fight.” Then he had shown Blayne what to do once you have your opponent on the ground. But Blayne doubted the giant troll in front of him ever needed to have that kind of training.

  Dodging another massive swing, Blayne rolled into a new position, trying to get an angle on the fighter. On his next swing, Blayne waited until the man had committed to the move, then spun into action. Ducking under the log of an arm, he dropped to one knee and shot his other leg out straight into the side of the mountain’s kneecap. As he hoped, the joint supporting all that massive weight, under all that pressure, popped sideways with a loud crack that could be heard over the crowd.

  The giant grunted in pain and dropped to one knee, the bad leg held out at an awkward angle. His big ugly face scowled at Blayne next to him on the floor as he tried to swing his huge palm down on Blayne’s head. Rolling again out of the way, Blayne stood up and faced the giant. Now that the giant was down on one knee, his head was at the same height as Blayne's. Taking a quick step forward, Blayne snapped a kick up under the giant's chin, connecting to the sweet spot as Morgan had trained him. The large head snapped back, his eyes rolled until the whites showed, before crashing to the floor in a mountain of unconscious flesh, shaking the ring like an earthquake.

  The crowd around him, silenced by disbelief at what they had seen, erupted into cheers and applause. Blayne exited the ring toward his friends and Morgans approving smile.

  “See? I told you you could do it. I didn’t have any doubt,” the Knight said laughing.

  “I’m glad you think it was funny. You wouldn’t be laughing if it was your ass up there in the ring with that monster of a man.” Blayne grumbled, pulling back on his jacket and strapping on his holster. “Now can we collect our winnings and get out of here?”

  Gunn was pounding him on his back, “That was awesome dude! It reminded me of that time you took down Big Blake in the fifth grade.”

  Laughing at the memory, and the release from the adrenaline rush, Blayne shrugged, “I wish it was Big Blake too. But I have to admit, the two weeks of detention back then was well worth it.”

  They stopped by the cash cage and collected their credit chips. The attention of the crowd had already moved on to the next fight that had started. Huddled against the wall, Blayne tucked the chips away into his jacket as Morgan talked about what they needed to do next, and where to go.

  “Somehow, we will need to find out where they are holding the black market at. And from what I’ve heard, it is never in the same place twice.”

  “Uta found this place. Maybe she can find the market,” Gunn suggested.

  Shaking his head, Morgan added, “She said that level of criminality is outside her contacts. She runs a railroad, not a criminal cartel. She said she will try, but no promises.”

  Flashbangs and blaster bolts interrupted the rest of their conversation. An amplified voice boomed through the warehouse, “Zalore Patrol, everyone freeze!”

  Chapter 18

  Both Blayne and Morgan reacted instinctively, ducking low in the crowd as soon as the Zalore Patrol voice boomed out over the noise of the fight. Blayne reached up and pulled a startled Gunn toward the floor with them, using the thick audience to hide them from the soldiers. After a few stunned seconds, the outlaw crowd erupted into chaos, scrambling in all directions, trying to evade the soldiers. Using the chaotic mob as cover, the three Dunadds weaved their way through the crowd toward the warehouse door and exit ramp. The mass of people spilled out onto the street outside, pushing up against the police barricade that had been set up, blocking the street. The headline fighters of the night were leading the fray, providing a much-welcomed interference for the crowd, going hand to hand against the soldiers. Using the distraction for their benefit, Blayne led Morgan and Gunn through a gap in the barricade, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. Th
e flash of patrol lights and strobing sirens only helped to add to the confusion and chaos erupting out onto the streets.

  The denizens of the lower levels of Crorix were not the meek type of citizen to go calmly with the Zalore forces into detention. They were fighting the soldiers on every front, using whatever weapons they could get their hands on. The ring fighters had already overwhelmed a small contingent of soldiers, cut off from their reinforcements, and had gained their weapons and were using them against the Zalore patrols. Stun beams and flash sticks lit up the night in all directions, they could hear the roar of the crowd fighting against the barricades for blocks.

  Blayne ducked them into the first dark alley they came across. Morgan tapped his shoulder and silently pointed up. An emergency ladder led up the side of the building next to them. Together they moved a stack of crates dumped in the alley so they could reach the lower rungs. Quickly they climbed the side of the building until they reached the rooftop. Using the shadows as cover as much as possible, they ran across the roof away from the raid.

  When they reached the other side of the dark roof, Blayne peered hesitantly over the side. The gap between the buildings was not wide, but it went down several street levels disappearing into the darkness below.

  Gunn, sneaking a peek over the edge, backed up slowly and shook his head, “Nope. No way.” Looking at Blayne with wide eyes he remarked, “I know what you are thinking, it's not happening dude.”

  Blayne, already backing up to give himself some running room, smiled, “Hey, it will be just like my bedroom balcony back home.” The balcony outside his room in the Palace had a ten-foot gap to the next building. Both he and Gunn had jumped the gap dozens of times, sneaking out of his room when they were kids.

  Morgan blinked, “So that’s how you sneaked out. I’d been trying to figure that out for years,” he said with a frown.

  Gunn pointed down into the deep darkness below, “That was only a twenty-foot drop. If I don’t make this…” he looked down and immediately regretted it, “I would have plenty of time to regret my decision on the way down.”

  Morgan clapped Gunn on the back before backing up himself, “Stay here if you want, the Zalore forces will be up here any minute now. You can take your chances with them.”

  Blayne sprinted forward and launched himself out over the alley, flying through the air until he dropped onto the opposite rooftop down below. Rolling with the impact, he slid across the concrete and sprang up to his feet with a grin. “Come on Gunn! It's a piece of cake!”

  Morgan smirked, “If this old man can do it, so can you,” he said before throwing himself across the gap. His landing was not as smooth as Blayne’s and ended up with him sitting on the roof with his legs splayed out in front of him. Holding his hand up he waved off Blayne's help and said breathlessly, “I’m all right, just knocked the breath out of me for a second.”

  Gunn, left behind on the first rooftop, heard the clang of boots climbing the ladder behind him. Grumbling under his breath, he backed up almost across the entire rooftop, planted his feet, and sprinted forward. With his arms and legs pumping as fast as he could, his wild auburn hair blowing back in the wind, he placed a foot on the side barrier of the rooftop and launched himself up and above the gap like a rocket. Flailing his arms and legs, he tumbled across the gap and landed on the other side with a hard thump. Rolling across the roof, he slid to a stop on his back, staring up at the sky. The towers around them disappeared into the night above, occasionally glowing with the lights of passing traffic.

  “You know, from this perspective, it’s kind of pretty here,” he grunted before getting up slowly off the roof. Rubbing his sore back from the impact, he glared at Blayne, “Not a word, OK? Not a word.”

  Chuckling, Blayne led the way across the connected rooftops, sliding down sloped roofs and jumping the small alleys between the buildings until they reached a busy concourse. Breaking the lock of the rooftop door, they entered the last building and made their way down the stairs to street level. Pulling up their hoods, they exited out into the bustling crowd.

  Morgan spoke softly, speaking under the noise of the crowd, “Head back to the safe house. Do you still have the credits?”

  In a moment of startled panic, Blayne frantically patted his jacket pockets. In the excitement of their escape, he had forgotten the whole reason they were at the fight. Finding the lump of credits in his pocket, he nodded his head in relief. Now that they had the credits, maybe Uta could tell them where the slave market was and they could rescue Cadee. He tried not to think about what his sister must be going through. He couldn’t bring himself to think of the atrocities she must be seeing, or worse experiencing, waiting for someone to rescue her. His expression must have shown his turbulent emotions because the crowd before him parted as soon as they saw his face.

  With Morgan and Gunn behind him, he worked his way through the crowded streets of the District until they had reached Uta's safe house. Slipping inside, they collapsed on the chairs in the living area. Gunn went straight to the kitchen and tossed warm beers to everyone like prizes. And this is how Uta found them sometime later, silently drinking beers and lost in their own heads. The stress of the past few days plastered on their exhausted faces.

  “Well…” the old lady asked, “How did it go? I heard there was a raid.”

  Blayne jingled the pouch of credits, “We got what we needed, now we need to know where to spend it.”

  “I sent out some feelers and a few have come back, nothing more than rumors though,” Uta said, her shoulders slumped. “What you are looking for is part of the society down here even I don’t mess with.”

  He raised his chin and said through clenched teeth, “It doesn’t matter. We must find out where they took her.”

  “Now calm down. Patience young man,” the old lady said calmly. “I haven’t heard where the market is, but there is a rumor of who took the young girl. That is something to work with at least,” the old lady suggested in her raspy voice.

  Sitting up quickly, Blayne demanded in irritation, “Who?”

  “If you give me a second, I will tell you who.” Pointing to Gunn she added, “A tip came back of a brunette sitting with a redhead in the bar and was last seen being taken out through the back service door. And that is where one of my informant found this,” she said pulling a shattered wristcom with gold trim out of her cloak pocket.

  “Her comm,” Blayne whispered sadly.

  Gunn hung his head, “So that’s why I didn’t see her leave.”

  Blayne held out his hands questionably, “Is that it, out the back door? That doesn’t help!” he snapped.

  “My my, you are an impatient one,” Uta mumbled. Looking at Morgan she asked, “How do you put up with him all the time?”

  Morgan shrugged, “He is an acquired taste sometimes, you get used to it. Was there anything else?”

  Nodding she gave a smile, “They say one of the men who took the young princess, had a glowing compass tattoo on his neck. A pretty distinctive tattoo, I would say.”

  “Pirates,” growled Morgan.

  Blayne glanced at Morgan in surprise, “Pirates? Here? I thought they never stayed in civilized cities?”

  “Normally they don’t. Every Kingdom in the three systems would lock them up on sight,” Morgan agreed. “If they were to land, they would want to keep a lower profile than even us. That makes this event even odder. Any idea which pirates?”

  Uta shrugged, “No idea. They don’t keep a roster for me to check, Sir Knight, your guess is as good as mine.”

  Gunn lifted his head from staring at the floor, “Wait. If they need to keep that low of a profile, then there can’t be that many places for them to hide. Any idea where that could be?”

  Tapping her cane, Uta agreed, “In fact, yes I might. You will need an invitation to get in. I will see what I can do, for the young princess’s sake.”

  Blayne, his spirits lifted for the first time since Cadee had gone missing, stood and bowed to
Uta, “Any help and information you can get for us will be most appreciated. Thank you.”

  Uta smiled and gave a little bow of her own in return, “You are welcome, Prince. Don’t you worry, we will get your sister back,” she said before leaving the room with a shuffle. Blayne raised an eyebrow in surprise, that was the first time the old lady had referred to him as Prince. Pressing his lips together in frustration, he knew that if he was to get his sister back, he would have to be both the rogue and the troublemaker he was known for, and a Prince. If he had to live up to his reputation to get Cadee safe again, so be it.

  Chapter 19

  Blayne paced the small living area of the safe house, his head down and his hands clasped behind his back deep in thought. His mother would be so disappointed in him if she was still… he still had trouble accepting it to himself. Her death. He could hear her voice in his head telling him to grow up, stand up, and be the man she had raised him to be. He could only hope he could fulfill her wishes. For Cadee’s sake, he didn’t have much choice.

  At the corner table, Morgan was demonstrating to Gunn how to dismantle and reassemble the BlasTech rifle. “Now, always pay careful attention not to switch these two wires,” as he unplugged two leads from the power pack and held them up for emphasis.

  “It would short out the gun?” Gunn asked, examining the connections.

  “No, because it will blow up in your face and take out the room you are in,” Morgan lectured sternly.

  The lesson paused when Uta entered the room. Her sudden appearance surprised everyone. Blayne thought they would have heard the click click of her cane coming down the hall. He frowned, the old Knight was sneakier than they gave her credit for.