"No," Anahita said, blinking rapidly. "No, I don't believe that he is anywhere near that level."
"Then Wes can take him, by himself, with minimal fuss," Breena announced confidently. "He's that powerful now. I'm serious."
"You try to get your Challengers to be at 500 in everything before they solve a Tumult?" I asked, surprised. Anahita turned her head to look back at me, mouthing the number 500 incredulously.
"No, Wes," Breena sighed, "Stell and I usually try to get a Challenger to have be in the 500s with just one of their traits, and it usually takes about fifty Rises to get there. And then we try to get a team of heroes to rally behind them, along with the best equipment we can find. But you have somehow managed to hit the 500 level in all of your traits just, before even your fortieth Rise. And you are currently on your...fourth Tumult or Trial? Sixth? I can't even figure it out, because of all the other hidden disasters you've discovered and undone. So yes, Anahita, caution is all good, but Wes is going to bust this jerk's berries, and I've decided to just be okay with how ridiculously one-sided things are, instead of getting mad over the impossibility of it all."
"Why thank you, Breena," I replied, "that's very generous of you."
"You're welcome," she said out loud.
You owe me all of the cookies forever, she said through the mindlink.
"I..." Anahita began, working through her amazement. "Perhaps I see now why both of my hunters fled your arrival. This is a good sign," she decided. "I will take confidence in this fact, and rely on you. We will surprise this man. You will engage him, use your magic to take what you need to create your disguise. Then you will vent your fury upon him, but in a way that satisfies my own anger as well. Is that an acceptable compromise?"
"That does work for me, yes." I nodded.
She smiled.
"Then go ahead and arm yourself, and we will start our day," she commanded, and I began to summon gear out of Breaker.
CHAPTER 31: NEXT TARGET
I still can't believe you have those, Anahita muttered at me, actually speaking through the mindlink.
You did tell me to wear them, I said defensively, I'm not sure what you want me to do here.
I am not complaining, Anahita insisted, as we walked to the edge of the rooftop. Correction: I am not complaining on purpose. But I cannot help but point out that the bazubands which you are currently wearing would be priceless relics to any historian among my people. Golden sandsteel is a rare alloy mentioned only in our most ancient of records! We only have a single other item made from it in our grandest museum!
I'm not sure what to tell you, I said as we jumped off the rooftop, toward another roof, moving under the cover of the shadows. This is the best equipment I have, so I'm making use of it. And it's not like I stole it, or even found it somewhere. Each piece of my armor was given to me after I completed one of Avalon's Rites. Some of it was literally built for my personal use.
Then it was built thousands upon thousands of years ago! Anahita protested as we raced across another rooftop. This could not be more outrageous if you had commissioned each of those pieces of armor to arrive in time capsules!
The eastern sky was just now starting to turn pink, but the sun had not risen more than a hair over the horizon.
Well, I'm not going to just give up any equipment that gives me the best chance of saving these worlds, I pointed out, but assuming we ever get the chance, I'd be happy to work out some way for you to see the items that were in the vault. And anything that doesn't have an immediate use for either the war or the economy, you're welcome to show to your historians and collectors. Provided they won't be put to better use elsewhere.
The next moment, I felt Anahita lose the composed hold she had over the mindlink, and the excitement practically blasted out of her.
You have more? Anahita shouted, before re-composing herself. I mean...excuse me...but you actually have more relics?
Yup, I affirmed, as I made my next leap. As well as the people who had loaded said items into the vault. They've all been frozen in time for untold ages, so they won't have much understanding on recent events, but they should be able to tell the history of every item they put inside my vault.
Excitement blasted out again, before it was smothered the very next moment.
I suppose I could agree to that, Anahita said calmly, it would be nice to hear the history behind every single object—a few objects, I mean.
I grinned, delighted to have learned about yet another side of Stell.
Anahita may not be the bookworm that Via was, but she certainly enjoyed antiques, and learning the history behind them.
But we continued our trek across the rooftops near Anahita's hiding place. Once again, I relied on Carnwennan's shroud, and Anahita relied on her own supernatural skill to remain hidden.
That and the fact that we were currently traveling through a completely abandoned neighborhood, with every former resident already taken to the Horde Pits.
Eventually though, Anahita signaled for us to halt, and we crept carefully across the last rooftop of the abandoned neighborhood, then looked out at the inhabited part of the city below.
The sun had risen over the city of Sejmera, and with it the citizens had slowly returned to the streets.
Once again, said streets were subdued, with people conducting their business hurriedly.
Only, this time, the Malus Men were out and about, walking among the population, in a cheerful mood.
Calm yourself, Anahita said as I saw one man kick a young boy carrying a basket full of fruit in the chest. They will all pay in time. And they will not decide to go too far until tonight. And by then, it will be too late. But come. I will lead you to the one who will give you your new disguise.
The man walked away from the boy, laughing in amusement over how the child coughed and scrambled to save as many figs as he could.
Teeth growled, and we marked the face of the abusive prick together, so that we could single him out later for a thorough, proper punishment.
Then I followed Anahita to confront an abuser that she insisted was even worse.
We traveled carefully. The Malus presence in Sejmera was much greater than it had been even in Tajam, and we weren't fully confident that magic could keep us completely hidden. So we moved through the shadows as quickly as we could, with Anahita leading Breena and me through one of the many routes she had devised for this city.
He will be here in a few moments, she whispered to me through the mindlink.
The streets became even tenser as we traveled, and I found my own apprehension growing.
I had never met one of my imposters before, unless I counted the one red-haired corpse in the Woadlands.
But I remembered very clearly the fear and disgust that the first little girl I had rescued on that world directed toward me, before she learned that I was the real Wes Malcolm.
I remembered the terror of the next woman I had rescued, how she refused to believe my actions on her behalf were anything other than an elaborate ruse.
And I remembered how hard Merada had fought to kill me, not backing down until Breena had arrived and proven my identity personally.
When I met this next man in the flesh, I would probably know firsthand just what horrors had been done in my name.
Wait in this alley, Anahita sent to me. I know of his habits. He will be here soon.
I fought down my sudden, inexplicable nervousness, and waited.
I did not have to wait long.
I looked out from the alley to see a man my skin color walk down the almost-empty street. He had red hair, cut like mine. He wore a long, hooded cloak, but in a way that completely failed to cover either his bright-red hair or the fancy breastplate and chainmail covering his torso. He walked in such a way that made his armor clank and jangle with every step, right in the middle of the street, where anyone could see him.
The smirk he wore told me everything about him. But I still couldn't help but Exhale.
He was deliberately trying to make me look incompetent.
Deliberately working to make sure everyone associated my appearance with that of an insincere fool who couldn't even be bothered to disguise himself.
It didn't matter how obvious he had been about it.
It didn't matter that the citizens here could see right through him.
It didn't matter that he had probably failed to convince even a single person that he was the real Wes Malcolm.
What mattered was that now whenever these people would see a light-skinned man with red hair that claimed to be here to save them, they would associate that man with both dishonesty and incompetence.
Especially if he was alone, without the Testifiers or one of Stell's Satellites to vouch for him.
And judging by the confidence of his gait, he knew it.
He knew he had an easy job, one that he had already accomplished years ago.
And now, he was free to fool around.
Especially now that the Umbra's little bitch had finally been taken care of.
And he knew exactly how he was going to celebrate tonight.
The best part of it all, though, was that he would get to have his fun in that little cripplehead's name.
Oh, FUCK him, Teeth growled.
I swallowed my rage and turned to Anahita, but she held up her hand.
The false Malcolm came toward our alley. I wrapped the shroud tighter around myself and Breena, but he didn't glance in our direction. Instead, he walked to another alley nearby and waited against the wall, his armor suddenly going silent as he finally practiced a bit of stealth.
I felt my hackles rise, because the next moment a young boy darted out of the alley. He had been carrying a package and skulking low to the ground, leading me to believe he had been out on an errand, and was trying to avoid being caught. But the Malus asshole had known enough about the boy's routes to be waiting for him, and he caught the young child by the wrist as soon as he dashed out of the alley.
The child cried out in pain, as his arm was wrenched violently backwards, and then cried out again as the parcel of bread fell from his hand and tumbled into the dirt and cobblestones.
"Hush," the false Malcolm snarled as he began dragging the boy toward a house next to our alley, "you're going to help me talk to your big sister."
Motherfucker! Teeth snapped in my mind. Let him go! Let him go right now or I will—
Calm yourself, Challenger, Anahita hissed in my mind. Acting right now will only put the child in even greater danger. Wait for my signal.
Teeth actually clamped down on his rage without my admonishment.
That left me to handle my own anger as the red-headed asshole clanked over to the house next to our alley and began knocking very loudly.
Stay very still against the wall, Anahita advised me, he will come here with them, and enter that door.
She pointed to a door tucked into the alley wall just beyond me.
The man continued to knock, and the boy in his grip yelled for his sister to ignore him, and not open the door.
After a few moments, the armored man shrugged, and, with a cold smirk, began to twist the child's arm slowly, and deliberately in an unnatural direction.
The little boy bravely gritted his teeth, but the large man only twisted harder, and finally a cry escaped the child's lips.
"That's him screaming, now, Rana," the fucking bastard warned as he held the boy's arm down, "if you don't come out soon, you're going to hear your brother's arm break. Do you really want your brother to go to the Pit with a broken arm?"
My vision went red with rage, but Anahita's warning somehow remained in my mind.
A moment later, the door opened.
"Let him go," a young woman's voice hissed, "you don't need to do this! You are already going to see me tonight!"
"That's no way to greet the hero of Avalon," Mr. Fucktard Supreme said in a threatening voice. "Now come with me. We need to talk about what will happen tonight. It's vital to the Resistance.”
"I'm coming," I heard the young woman say quickly. "I'm coming. I'll be right there. Just leave my brother be. Like your people promised."
"I've told you not to confuse me with those who are trying to oppress your people," False Malcolm snarled. "Now come. We'll use the abandoned warehouse nearby."
There was some shuffling, and then the armored asshole clanked right past me, screaming boy still in tow. Then a young woman roughly Anahita's size and wrapped completely in a cloak came following.
Anahita's intelligence was spot on, because False Malcolm barged right through the door in the alley and yelled for the girl to follow him in.
“Silence,” the asshole snarled to the young boy demanding that he leave his big sister alone. “We’re just talking this morning. Your sister needs to understand how I need her to help save the city tonight.”
I crept quietly toward the door, still wrapped in Carnwennan’s shroud. Through the mindlink, I could tell that Anahita was already inside the room, though I couldn’t see her with my eyes.
But the three other people hadn’t even glanced toward the open door, so I just slid into the room.
As another bonus, my Gale Cloak actually helped Carnwennan’s shroud muffle the noise of my armor.
Knock-Off Malcolm and his two potential victims didn't glance my way, so my magics must have successfully concealed me. I stood next to the door and waited for Anahita's signal.
"What do you want?" the woman called Rana asked fearfully. "You have said you would respect my wishes and leave me alone. Why are you back? Why are you risking Lalla Anahita's wrath?"
"I regret to inform you," Fake-Malcolm began as he let go of her brother and pushed him away. "That our dear Lalla Anahita has been claimed by her hunter. I failed to save her in time. I am now alone in my quest to save your world."
"Stop lying!" the little boy shouted as he rubbed his arm. "Lalla Anahita hasn't been caught for years! Just like you've been lying and doing nothing for years!"
Counterfeit Malcolm rounded on the boy and reared his gauntleted hand back to backhand the small child. But as the boy flinched, the asshole let out a cold chuckle, and lowered his hand.
"Forgive me, Lady Rana. The stress has been getting to me. I have come here to discuss how you can aid me—and redeem yourself."
God, this guy's a prick, Teeth grumbled, but the asshole kept talking.
"I know about your dance tonight. I know you are required to perform before your invaders. Just like I know that if you had trusted me a little more, I would have been able to prevent indignities like this to come to pass. But this isn't about you," he gloated, "this is about saving the people of Sejmera. I'm going to be there at the dance, Rana. I'm going to be in the audience. And now that Lalla Anahita's gone, and your people don't have any other protector, you're going to show that the citizens of Sejmera can trust me. By singling me out of the audience, and giving me a special dance."
The woman stepped away from the awful man.
I stepped toward him, still concealed.
"You promised," the young woman spat bitterly. "You all promised you would show restraint."
"I have already shown restraint," False Malcolm sneered at her. "And if you had shown the proper admiration for my restraint, it might not have ever come to this. But instead, you will show me the proper respect tonight, in front of an audience, and Sejmera will be the better for it. And if you do not, then your oppressors will give full vent to their wrath on your entire city, starting with your family. I know, because they have told me that very thing: satisfy me, or else they will—"
I slammed the door shut behind me, at the exact same time Anahita gave me the signal to let loose.
"That's about all of this conversation I can stand."
My imposter whirled to face me, eyes wide.
"Who the hell are yo—"
I closed the distance between us immediately, and punched him in the face.
The strike would have launched
most of my previous human enemies right off their feet, but to my surprise, this asshole only staggered away and wiped his face.
"You," he started to say, eyes widening in recognition. "You're hi—"
I closed the distance again, but he blocked my next punch on his armored hand.
His confident smirk lasted for the same half moment it took for him to realize that the force of my blow had dented his gauntlet.
He tried to block my next blow, but this time I knocked his hand out of the way and slammed Carnwennan's heavy pommel into his face.
Knives in the Night Page 47
