by CM Raymond
“Sick,” Maddie cried.
“Very sick,” Hannah said still laughing. “And very unlike you!”
“I know… I guess all the time hanging around with you rebels has really perverted my virtuous nature.” Maddie laughed and then fell into a silence for a few paces. “Seriously, though, when I was a little girl, I did what all the other noble girls did—played house with my dolls and my girlfriends in the quarter. I always imagined myself being like those dolls, settling in with a husband, having children—you know, that picture of the good life.”
“We never really had that picture down in the Boulevard,” Hannah answered.
Maddie nodded, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget how different our upbringings were.”
“Nah. Don’t mention it.”
The women kept walking, and finally, Maddie continued. “As I got older, and things got more complicated with my mother’s death and then Eve’s sickness. I never minded the responsibility. Hell, they would have given everything for me. But it just made boys—and later, men—a low priority.”
Hannah nodded. “Then we’re not so different, after all. So, enough about boys. Let’s talk about magic.”
“Magic?”
Hannah shrugged. “Yeah. Why did you never study? You’re old enough to be enrolled at the Academy, and you would have gotten in without a problem. And you’re smart. Could’ve been somebody important in the Capitol.”
“You mean like Adrien?” Maddie laughed with discomfort, knowing how sensitive a subject the Chancellor was for Hannah. “Adrien was actually part of the reason I never studied. Well, I guess Aunt Eve was. She knew Adrien well, probably better than most. She watched everything as it happened from the beginning and knew what kind of a man he was. When it came down to it, she realized that I could have a good life without magic, at least that’s what I assume.”
“Needless to say, your aunt made a good decision. I guess she experienced what the Academy could turn people into. Adrien did spend his life trying to make his students after his own image.”
Maddie nodded and then pointed off into the distance. “Is that our farm?”
Hannah scanned the horizon, looking for any other buildings in sight. But the only one was a simple farmhouse with smoke drifting lazily into the air from its lone chimney. From their vantage point on the rise, they could make out neat rows already plowed into the winter dirt and fence lines marking the farmer’s borders.
“I assume it is,” Hannah responded. “Let’s go see if the farmer is truly sympathetic. Keep an eye on me, though. Follow my lead. I’ll feel the situation out as we go. We can’t be too careful.”
Maddie nodded as the women crossed the pasture toward the farmhouse with Sal on their heels.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Standing at the bottom of the tower stairs, Parker watched as Marcus lined up their crew of fighters.
He grinned, proud of the gall each of these women exhibited. Each two arm lengths from the one adjacent, they faced a row of objects—old pots, chunks of concrete, and other artifacts from the tower whose original uses were indiscernible. An enormous rotten gourd nearly the size of his head sat at the end of the row.
Hannah and Maddie were off looking for local help, while Ezekiel and Gregory were looking for help from far away. It was up to Parker and Marcus to prepare their people as best they could—with the assumption that no help was coming their way.
Marcus shouted instructions down the line, as he showed the proper stance while holding a magitech weapon—knees slightly bent, legs spread shoulder-width apart, left foot forward.
“Now, depending on the size of your weapon, the kick will be of varied strengths,” Marcus said, with their eyes on him.
A thick woman in the middle of the crowd raised her hand.
“Yes?” Marcus called on her, ready to convey the wisdom he had gathered over a decade and a half of serving in the Guard.
“I’m glad you brought this up, sir.” Her face twitched as she tried to keep a straight face. “The girls and I have been discussing the size of your weapon.”
“And the force of its kick,” another chimed in.
The ladies of the Boulevard, never shy with their words, all broke into laughter. A few of the youngest girls glanced at each other, not quite understanding.
Parker was shocked to see Marcus’s face turn a shade of pink. With so many years among soldiers, he was used to crass mouths, but they were typically attached to the bodies of other men.
“Good one,” he said with a nod. “But if we don’t get our shit together, and fast, my weapon’s going to get blasted off before anyone gets the privilege of experiencing its kick. So, let’s bloody focus, shall we.”
“Yes, sir. I am inspired by your worthy cause,” the woman said with a wink.
Ignoring her, Marcus got back into the basic firing position and pointed the end of the magitech gun at the gourd. “Someday, hopefully soon, you’ll be running and gunning. But for now, we work on the fundamentals.”
He leveled the weapon and fired, blasting the gourd to bits. His students applauded as they saw that he had carved a face into his target.
“Looks easy,” the thick woman said.
“We’ll see,” Marcus grinned. “Now, ready!”
The women raised their weapons, tucking the butt end into their armpits.
“Aim!”
Some looked around at their friends, while others brought a cheek to the stock of their devices of destruction.
“Fire!”
Just after his command, all hell broke loose. Blue streams of energy dashed in every direction. Barrels flew toward the sky in the hands of the few who lacked all control. One woman, tall and slender, got knocked back onto her ass. Out of all the shots fired, only one clay jar shattered.
“Damn,” Parker said, “nice work, Krystal.”
Parker’s favorite of the crew grinned with pride. “Thank you, sir.”
“The rest of you have a lot of work to do. Keep after it until you hit your mark. These guns are state of the art, and they should have plenty of charge.” He glanced back at Parker looking on from the tower. “Krystal, walk them through it. I’ll be back.”
He left his crew to practice as he paced up toward Parker.
“Not bad,” Parker said.
Marcus shook his head. “You’re shitting me, right?”
“Do I look like the kind of guy that would lie to you?”
Marcus laughed. “You look like the kind of guy who would trick a grandmother out of her undergarments.”
Parker smiled. “I only did that once.” The raid on Arcadia had grown the two closer in just a few hours, and they were already starting to enjoy working together. Parker’s distrust had waned, and he was learning to trust the man’s experience.
“They’ll get it,” Marcus said. “Good enough to fire into a line of oncoming Guard anyway. That’s all we need.”
Parker looked down at the women, many of whom were mothers and friends that he had grown up with in the Boulevard. They were all tough—shaped like a gemstone from the pressures of hard lives. But they were his people, and he couldn’t help but be concerned.
“If we put them out there like that, they’ll be sitting ducks. Magitech is powerful, but it has its disadvantages. For one, it paints a pretty clear target. Out in the open, I bet that Adrien’s men target our gunners first. And they know how to shoot. Our people won’t make it long enough for any one of them to make a damned difference.”
Marcus stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the troops. Krystal walked the line, helping each one adjust their stance and alignment of their guns.
“I know life in the Boulevard was bad,” he finally said, “but it’s still nothing like the life of war. We’re not getting out of this without casualties.”
Parker’s throat grew tight. “No shit. But I’m not going to set them out in the middle of the field as sacrifices to Adrien’s men. Not a chance.” His eyes cut to the thick wood
s beyond the frozen practice field. “But if we’re smart, we just might be able to use the magitech, and our badass Boulevardians in a much more suitable way.”
Following Parker’s line of sight, Marcus smiled. “I like your thinking.”
“Not mine. Gregory mentioned leveraging our settings. I’m beginning to see what he meant.” He nodded to the women. “Get the basics down as fast as possible. I don’t need them to shoot well, just to keep their cool while doing it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take a walk in the woods.”
The two split ways. Parker walked the distance to the treeline, imagining a new battlefield for a new kind of war.
****
Gregory’s eyes shot open as a hand clasped over his mouth. The magitech lights were on again, illuminating a large figure that hovered over him. Without his glasses, it was hard to make out the features in the man’s face. But Gregory could see one thing—a knife glimmering in the light of the magitech.
“This one is for Arcadia, you traitor,” the gruff voice of the figure said.
Gregory pitched around in his bed, trying to break free from the man’s grip. In his attempt to move, he realized that the man’s knee was braced against his chest. There was no way out.
This was the end.
Strangely, he didn’t think of his family, or of Hannah, or anybody else. The only thing that he could think of was Arcadia, and what would happen to her now that he was no longer part of the revolution.
The man drew back, his eyes wide. Just before the knife plunged down toward Gregory’s defenseless chest, the weapon began to shake. The attacker stared at the knife, confused as if it hung in the air of its own accord, no longer obeying his command. Slowly, it turned inward, and as the man opened his mouth to scream, his own knife sunk into his throat, and he bled out while still trying to shout a warning. The lifeless body dropped onto Gregory who did all that he could not to shriek in fear.
“Gregory, let’s go,” a voice said.
It sounded strange, but he knew immediately that it was Ezekiel and his magic who saved him from certain death. Pushing with all his might, he rolled the dead man off him and onto the floor. Gregory groped around and finally found his glasses on the side table and shoved them onto his face. Everything came into focus.
“Dammit, boy. We need to get out of here. I have no idea how many there will be,” the magician yelled.
Gregory pulled on his boots, then grabbed his own knife sitting on the bedside table. He sprang to his feet, energized by fear and confusion.
“What the hell?”
“Matthias,” Ezekiel said. “Damn fool must be in Adrien’s pocket after all. I don’t know, maybe the whole damn town is. What I do know is that we have to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
Ezekiel turned for the door. Gregory required no more admonition than that; he was right on the magician's heels. They moved down the hall as quickly as stealth would allow. Turning into a stairwell, Gregory took the stairs two at a time, holding the dagger in front of him. He had had a few lessons with Karl, but he expected not to be able to do much of anything with the blade. Sure, he could wildly stab about and hope to get lucky, but Gregory never considered himself a particularly lucky individual.
Stepping off the bottom step, they turned for the front door. A long haul was between them and their escape. Treading down the corridor shoulder to shoulder, the rebels froze as a half-dozen men entered the hallway in front of them.
“Get behind me, Gregory!”
He complied. The look in Ezekiel’s eyes made him realize that now was no time for heroics.
The magician’s eyes blazed red as he raised his hands up on either side of him. Fear captured the men of Villgen, and they froze in their tracks.
“I see that you have been possessed by the devil,” Ezekiel said. “What is it that he offered you? What is it that Adrien might give the people here that true freedom won’t afford you?”
They chose to attack rather than answer and charged down the hall.
“Go to hell where you belong!” Ezekiel screamed, and he shoved his hands toward the men.
Blue light shot from his fingertips and a ball of power rolled through the men. It was large, and the narrow hallway left them no room to hide.
Gregory covered his face with his arm, afraid of being blinded by Ezekiel’s pure power. He had never seen the man so angry. When he looked again, the men had been torn apart by the magic.
He looked up at Ezekiel, whose face was drawn from the excessive use of power.
“Ezekiel…”
“Stay close to me, son.”
They ran down the hall, leaping over the pile of human flesh near the end. As they rounded the corner, Gregory saw the one thing standing between him and freedom.
Matthias.
But the man didn’t look as he had before. In place of the hunched over sloppy old man stood someone that looked a bit more like Adrien. He was tall, and his white hair and beard now looked distinguished. His previous countenance had been part of the ruse, and both Ezekiel and Gregory had been taken in by it.
“Step aside, Matthias, my old friend, or this night will be your last.” Ezekiel’s voice was like pure ice, and the sound sent a shiver through Gregory’s spine.
A sneer crept across the man’s face. “Ah… The Founder has spoken. I must comply. Is that how it works, Ezekiel? You were always a self-righteous son of a bitch, even forty years ago when the first stones were laid upon the wall. I thought your travels throughout Irth would have taught you a thing or two. But that must be my job.”
Matthias snapped his arms down to his side, and his eyes covered over in pure black.
“By the Matriarch!” Ezekiel shouted. “What possessed you to do this?”
“Still believing in children’s stories, are we, Ezekiel? Let me show you real power…”
Ezekiel spun toward Gregory. Grabbing him by the cloak, he threw the boy into an open room like a ragdoll.
“Stay there!” he screamed. With a flick of his fingers, the door slammed shut and locked with magic.
Gregory dropped to the ground as he heard the shouts of the magicians and the melee of magical battle commence.
****
“Stand down, Matthias, and I might not flay you alive,” Ezekiel said. His eyes glowed fiery red, and his voice bellowed like a god’s.
Matthias passed balls of fire from hand to hand like a juggler in the market in Arcadia. He laughed. “Always thought so much of yourself, haven’t you, my old friend? And here you are, coming to me, thinking that I would curl up for you like some pathetic lapdog. Well, a lot has happened since you left Arcadia all those years ago, and many of us have grown stronger than you ever thought we would. You may have been the strongest back then, but you had a head start.” He threw a ball just over Ezekiel’s head and shattered the plastered wall, causing him to duck. “But I’ll make you a deal, give yourself up, let me bind you and the boy. You’ll make a fine present for the Chancellor, pay him back for all that he has given me over the years.”
Ezekiel brushed the broken plaster out of his hair and beard. Standing up straight, he said, “Your mind has been poisoned, Matthias. And I can’t say that I am too surprised. It was always weaker than the rest. But Adrien’s way, their way, is not the way toward the good life. You follow that road, and it will lead you to destruction as well.”
Matthias shrugged. “Maybe. But probably not. You see, Ezekiel, you rest on a bed of assumptions that have not been tested and, I assure you, are not true. You have a set of ideals, and, to be honest, I respect you for them. The problem is, it’s the wrong set. Join us. Let me talk to Adrien on your behalf. With the three of us working together, our kingdom would know no borders. And isn’t this what you always wanted?”
“Power? You are a fool if you think that was my goal.”
Matthias laughed. “Call it what you want. Sure, Adrien wants power. I want to grow my little city
here out in the West. You? You want peace. Join us, and we will help you achieve that peace.”
Ezekiel’s eyes narrowed. “Your idea of peace only comes on the heels of death for those who oppose it. I would die before joining Adrien, which I now gather includes joining you.”
“Then you will die!” Matthias shouted as he launched another fireball, this one larger than the one previous.
Ezekiel dove out of the way and tucked into a roll. He sprung to his feet with the dexterity of a man half his age.
“Not bad, my old friend,” Matthias said.
“I might be old, but I am no friend of yours.”
Ezekiel spun his staff overhead, and the walls began to shake. As Matthias prepared to throw another fireball, Ezekiel’s staff finished its arc, and he pointed toward the man he once knew. The very fabric of the house seemed to answer Ezekiel’s call. Furniture and floorboards alike flew toward Matthias, crashing into the old man and slamming him into the wall.
He hung there, pinned by broken wood as Ezekiel stepped closer—staff pointed forward.
“Yield,” Ezekiel yelled. “I do not want to destroy you.”
The man choked out a laugh. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for, Ezekiel. Destruction. We built this place while you were off who knows where. I’m proud of my work, proud of what I’ve built—even if I’ve had to partner with that weasel from Arcadia. But I’ll be damned before I let some crazy drifter ruin the system that we’ve put in place here.”
As he spoke, Matthias managed to push out with his hands, shattering the wood that held him. He landed on the floor and looked back up at Ezekiel.
Ezekiel’s face glowed like the harvest moon—his eyes burning red. Drawing both hands up over his head, he drew on an energy he hadn’t for years. A green orb formed in his hand.
“Sometimes you need to tear down before you can start over!” he shouted.
He slung his energy down on the man. Matthias’s eyes covered over in black as he blocked the attack. Ezekiel’s power poured around him.
“It is over!” Ezekiel screamed.
