Rebellion

by CM Raymond

But those days were long behind her. Now, she was a magician and a warrior, fighting a just cause—the death of Adrien.

  Parker was good in front of people; he always had been. That was a skill Hannah had never known. But she was the one who had healed him after being nearly beaten to death in the factory. She was proud of him for his skills and pleased with her own. Even with his new scars, she knew she had brought him back from the brink of death.

  Hannah shook away the memories when she saw the Prophet and his goon squad rush the bar. She held steady, waiting for the sign. Parker said she would know it when she saw it.

  “You cannot touch me, swine. The Founder is with me, and he is strong,” Parker yelled as he threw a fist in the air.

  That’s it, she thought.

  Hannah spread her arms outward and contorted her hands in a complicated pattern. Her eyes blazed red from underneath her hood. As the smoke and thunder roared, she focused on Parker and with a flash, she was next to him. The smoke, a product of one of Parker’s tricks, covered the stage and hid them from the sight of the crowd. Parker smiled when he saw her.

  She smiled back, then moved into action. She grabbed his hand, and their fingers interlaced. With a whoosh, they disappeared into thin air.

  ****

  Karl leaned against a wall just inside the gate of Arcadia. He smoked his pipe as he watched the travelers come into the city and a few native Arcadians also return. The latter all stood out. He could tell a city dweller by the extra weight they carried in their bellies. As much as he despised Arcadia, he loathed the Arcadians even more.

  Sure, there were some good folks inside the walls, but most of them lived in the South, down on Queen’s Boulevard. Those people hardly counted as Arcadians. Their bodies were kept strong, and their wills were sharpened by the fight for daily survival. And none of them were coming through the gate. They didn’t have the luxury of a day hike into the woods or a recreational hunt.

  Most of the Arcadians coming through the gates were nobles, and Karl had no patience for them.

  Besides the farmers and trappers who traveled to the city to sell their goods, other lowlanders were coming into Arcadia—more than Karl had ever seen. Word had spread across the countryside that the government of Arcadia was hiring, and young men flooded in looking for a high paying job building the Chancellor’s war machine—of course none of them really knew what they were getting into.

  Karl snorted as he watched them enter. In part, he wanted to warn them, tell them to go back to their families. But he couldn’t. The rebellion required secrecy, and if all went according to plan, there wouldn’t be work in the factory for much longer. However, not all of them were bent on working the factory floor. Some had come to throw their lot in with the Guard. Their numbers were increasing as well.

  Most on the streets said it was to provide more security for the citizens. After all, dangerous Unlawfuls were running around, but Karl knew differently. Adrien was building an army. The question was, whom would they march against?

  After an hour of watching and smoking, Karl finally saw what he was waiting for. Three large carts surrounded by rearick rolled up to the gate. They were quickly waved through by the Guards. Amphoralds—precious gems mined from the Heights—had been pouring into the city like ale into a mystic’s goblet. The rearick had become familiar to the Guards, and the men working the gates knew better than to hold up the precious delivery.

  Karl fell into step behind them, close enough to blend in, but just far enough not to be greeted by one of his native folk.

  The rearick dropped off their load at the factory. The amphoralds were a key component to making Arcadian magitech. The rearick took their pay and all dispersed in different directions—the majority of the group splitting evenly between the taverns and the brothels.

  Cutting down a side alley, Karl beat a group to Sully’s Tavern and took a seat at the end of the dim bar. The other rearick entered soon after him and started buying each other rounds, their travel-wearied faces lightening a bit after the long day. Karl scanned the crowd, looking for someone he trusted.

  That rearick found him.

  “Well, shit on me hammer! Freaking Karl!”

  The rearick looked up to see Garrett, the kid he’d patrolled with before. Karl couldn’t help grinning ear to ear. Garrett was young but had great potential.

  Garrett slammed him on the back. “How the hell ye been, Karl? It’s been weeks.”

  Karl laughed. “Good to see ya, kid. Grab a seat; have a drink on me.” He motioned to the bartender. “Yeah, I haven’t been back to the Heights since our last run. Decided to settle in here for a bit. Got a job—good payer.”

  The kid shook his head. “Good enough pay to keep you from the Heights? Must be a sack of gold bigger than a dragon’s dick. You’d never catch me settling in with these lowlander twats.”

  Karl shook his head. The salty language indicated that Garrett had been on the road a lot. “Eh, ain’t so bad. I got a job with some rich-ass nobleman. He’s all nervous with the Disciples and the Unlawfuls running around killing each other. I pretty much sit around scratching my balls and making money. Can’t beat it for an old rearick like me—better for my knees. What about you? Still running with the shipments?”

  “Yeah. It’s been damned steady. And you know, not bad piece of coin for a few days walks. But remember that fight we had with the remnant?”

  Karl nodded and sipped his ale.

  “It just keeps happening. Something has those damned munchers up in arms. But, ya know, I’ve gotten pretty good at knocking their brainless heads off their shoulders.”

  Karl couldn’t help but laugh. The kid was a damned fool, not unlike Karl when he was Garrett’s age. The younger rearick had skills, Karl had seen him in action, but he could only pray that it wouldn’t go to the kid’s head. Nothing like an extra helping of hubris to get your ass handed to you in battle—or worse—your head.

  “Eh, well, be safe out there. Those monsters are smarter than we give em credit for—or their animal nature is strong enough to make them as dangerous as any man I’ve gone toe-to-toe with.”

  Garrett patted his oversized ax, slung to his waist. “As long as she’s with me, I’ll be OK.”

  Karl winked. “Just be careful, kid.” He sipped his drink and then decided to try for some information. “So, what’s going on at the mine these days?”

  With a shrug, Garrett said, “Still running hard, trying to get as much of the amph out as we can before the demand dries up.”

  Karl raised a brow. “How do you mean?”

  “Word in the Heights is that Arcadia is going to cut back on its orders soon. A few more big shipments like today’s, and we’ll be back at normal production, and you know what that’s like.”

  Karl stared out across the bar. Garrett’s message wasn’t the one that he expected. He slapped some coins on the table. “I gotta get back to the noble’s place. Good seeing you, kid, and keep yer head down out there. The remnant ain’t going to take it easy on ye because of yer good looks.”

  Shaking Karl’s calloused hand, the kid smiled. “Will do. And when the jobs dry up again, I might be looking for some work. Maybe yer noble will need a young buck?”

  “Never know, kid. I’ll keep my ears open.”

  Karl cursed as he left the bar. If it was true that the city was about to end their orders of the magitech crystals, it could only mean one thing—Adrien’s warship was too damned close to completion.

  Instinctively, he reached down and rubbed the handle of his hammer. Karl had a feeling she would soon get all the action she needed.

  Maybe more than she could handle.

  ****

  With a deafening crack and a flash, Parker and Hannah appeared in a dim room.

  Parker exhaled. “Shit. You’re really good at this.”

  “I learned some things,” she said with a grin.

  She was shaking, and Parker knew that their trick had physically taken a toll on Hannah. The magic
wore her out—less so as she mastered it, but it was still taxing.

  The building they were in was broken down and dusty, but everything was arranged carefully, as if the owner had left years ago, but was planning to return. Parker recognized the room, but it took him a second to realize it was the place that Hannah’s brother, William, had taken him days before his death.

  “You didn’t do half bad up there,” Hannah said. “But a raised fist? Really?”

  Parker laughed. “I know more about childbirth than magic—which is to say nothing. So I had to wing it. Anyway, you think they bought it?”

  Hannah nodded, but he knew she wasn’t really listening. Instead, her eyes were taking in the room.

  “Teleportation isn’t easy, especially into or out of buildings, but it helps if you have a clear picture of where you’re going. I’ve spent enough time in this room with my brother to feel confident in jumping here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Parker whispered.

  She shook her head, her voice firm if a little sad. “Don’t be. He wouldn’t want you to be. Will would be glad that his life was sacrificed for something good. The rebellion will happen, and when it does, all will hear about the role he played in it.”

  Hannah looked down, realizing that they were still holding hands. Her face flushed. “Now you better either get me some flowers or let go of my hand—before I kick your ass.”

  Parker dropped her hand and wiped his sweaty palm on his cloak. “Right. Sorry.”

  She laughed at his awkwardness. Parker was usually as cool as a rearick’s ale, so it was fun to see him sweat. “Kind of like old times,” she finally said. “I was waiting for you to start juggling and doing backflips.”

  He grinned. “Almost had to. Never thought I’d pull them away from that windbag.” He paused, still grinning like an idiot. “I dunno, but I think they were pretty into it. I mean, the people need something, and they know it. Old Dirty Dick Jed gave them something they thought they wanted—an escape from their world. Someone else to blame for their problems. He could have told them stories about hermaphrodite zombies that were coming to pull them out of their sorrows, and they would have bit. I just wish someone who cared about justice would have beat him to the punch.”

  Hannah nodded. “It’s all going to work. They’re still hungry. People were falling into place because they needed something; you’re right about that. But they want something more than his lies. They want the truth, and the truth about the Arcadia that Ezekiel dreamed of is way better than the shitty reality that Adrien and Jed have made. Our plan will work.” She turned to look out through a hole. “It has to.”

  The sun was high outside the window of Hannah and William’s old hideout. It would be better if they had the cover of night to sneak back to their base, there wasn’t time to wait. With Hannah’s exhaustion, they’d likely need to rely upon their old paths.

  “We’d better go,” she said as she stepped through the broken window and out into the cool air. “But I want you to tell me more about these hermaphroditic zombies.”

  ****

  A pile of parchment sat on the desk in front of Ezekiel, but he paid it no attention. For days he had been charting plans, scheming of ways to defeat his student, Adrien, and those who had fallen into step with him. But none of them seemed good enough, save one.

  He sucked on his pipe and blew smoke rings into the still air of the living room. They had set up in Girard’s house, and Ezekiel was thankful that the dastardly noble had a place that could house their small group. Girard was no good to anyone in life—but in death, he was making quite the contribution.

  From this mansion, the seeds of rebellion would bloom.

  They weren’t nearly strong enough yet for a full-on assault. Hannah was growing fast, and they had found some capable allies, but Adrien’s forces were dangerous. It seemed like damned near everyone within the walls of Arcadia had fallen under his spell. But if they waited until the numbers were with them, they’d never start. Regardless of the odds, they would have to strike before long.

  If Adrien finished his mighty airship before they could take him down, only the Matriarch knew the kind of damage he would do to Arcadia—and to all of Irth.

  Ezekiel thought of Hannah and her training. Great power lay within her, and they were still trying to figure out the extent of her abilities. Sal, the lizard-turned-dragon, was evidence of a new magical art, something Ezekiel had not yet seen.

  And it may be the exact kind of spell-work he had spent the last half century looking for.

  As if cued by his thought, Sal flew down from the second floor and landed on a table in the middle of the great room. The sturdy wood moaned under the weight of the beast, who continued to grow with remarkable speed.

  “I’m working, you scaly bastard,” Ezekiel cooed through his beard. “A magician needs his peace.”

  Sal tilted his head back and let out a tiny groan. He was like a toddler who just learned that he could talk. Albeit a toddler who could bite your arm off. The dragon yawned, showing off a line of razor-sharp teeth.

  Ezekiel laughed. “You really are a disgrace—for a lizard.”

  The dragon whipped out his tongue and dropped down onto the floor. Walking over to Ezekiel, he curled up at the master magician’s feet.

  “All right, then. Don’t make a peep, and you can stay.”

  The dragon continued to change as the days passed by. His scales grew darker, almost an emerald green, and his wingspan was the size of a rug. Sal was only a shadow of his previous self. Ezekiel marveled at the way Hannah was able to change his entire existence, and how that change carried so much hope within it.

  He thought again about telling Hannah the truth, but once again decided against it. She had too much to focus on now.

  He would reveal all after Adrien had been dethroned.

  Laughter poured in from the back of the house, breaking the silence he had all morning. He could hear Hannah and Parker joke as if the world were at peace. With their laughter, his own lips broke into a smile. It brought him joy to see them this way, and he hoped they might savor the moment. War was coming, indeed, and the laughter wouldn’t last forever.

  As the two made their way to the living room, Sal sprang to his feet. In his excitement, he bumped his head against the underside of the desk and knocked Ezekiel’s papers everywhere. As they fluttered to the floor, the dragon launched into the air to meet and greet his master. His flying had come a long way, but as he smashed a vase with a wing, Ezekiel knew he had a long way to go.

  The beast nearly toppled Hannah as it descended into her arms.

  “Hey, Sal,” she beamed. “Miss me?”

  The dragon did. Hannah and Sal were connected through a deep, mysterious magic, and the dragon hadn’t been the same since they had returned to the city. Being cooped up in the house was taking its toll on Sal, and Ezekiel knew that as the thing kept growing, they’d have to come up with new options for him.

  “How’d it go?” Ezekiel asked as Hannah and Parker settled into the couch across the room.

  The two told him about the exploits in the Boulevard, waving their hands with relish as they spoke.

  He nodded. “Good. It seems like the Boulevard is ready, but you two need to be careful. If they catch…”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Hannah said with a wave of her hand, “we know. But there’s nothing to worry about. No way some doucher like the Prophet could stop us. If this were the old days, I could have picked his pockets clean—he was so focused on Parker.”

  Ezekiel’s face turned stern. “Do not take my words lightly, child. The days of your youth are over. If this rebellion is to happen, you will be one of the keys to its success. Parker’s role is important, but perhaps your time might be better spent elsewhere.”