The halls of the Audec academy of artifice were ornate, carved greystone laid down centuries ago, maintained by frequent treatments. First-year students learned to make the unguent of preservation, and only those who succeed were allowed to move on to the greater mysteries. Yema had been one of them, a lifetime ago.
Magister Yema ran a hand along the wall, felt the grooves of the mural that told the story of the fall of Audec, the founding of the city, and the birth of the City Mother.
Yema left this place behind years ago, when mere science could no longer hold his attention.
Artifice was so limited, merely pushing the elements to their limits, instead of shaking the foundations of the world itself.
He heard shuffling in the room ahead, the flapping of wings, sycophantic birds hopping about courting favor with the other oligarchs. This one sent his assistant to talk to that one’s assistant, talking circles around one another, always angling toward another agenda. They built tentative alliances with whispers and baseless promises behind doors that had survived the tide of years.
He cast open the doors and heads turned towards him. The newest oligarch was the first to respond. Dlella, would-be heir apparent to Nevri’s corporation, sat forward on her tail, arms crossed. Her eyes locked on Yema, and then she nodded. She seemed to have learned Nevri’s lessons well, but she was untested. Her territory was across the city from his, so he would neither be threatened directly if she succeeded, nor would he be in a position to attack her if she failed.
Still, best to watch her closely.
Yema looked to the Smiling King. The madman’s head was lolled to the side, twenty colors spilled over one another like his face was a canvas. The Smiling King chanted a nursery rhyme and stroked one of the seven hands belonging to his deformed assistant. The sevenhanded man leaned into his master and cooed, three other hands scribbling away on separate sheaves of parchment.
Disgusting.
The little birds flapped their way out of Yema’s path as he took his seat, threw back his cowl to display the tattoos that adorned his head, proof of the pacts he had made, the power he held. Yema turned to Medai Omez, nodding to the slaver in his shifts and wraps in bright yellow and green. Medai was backed by his four cowled bodyguards, tall blades slung over their shoulders. The merchant smiled with golden teeth, then resumed turning a pair of blue cloisonné balls in his palm.
Ever since he lost control of his blue beasts, Omez has been cautious, weak. But the merchant-king had a talent at making a mask of his intentions, and even Yema’s spies had failed to discover if the scarf-clad slaver would ever again wield power the way he had in the first years since the Senate’s fall. He still had slaves, yes, but his new crop of Freithin could not compare to the herd he had lost.
Yema turned at last to his left, where COBALT-3 stood, never sat, at the far side of the table, her chrome plates shone from polishing so diligent it couldn’t be the work of mortals.
Magister Yema had preferred her father. Less attached, more clear in his focus. His peer, ally, and rival to the south had inherited her grandmaker’s preoccupation with the mysteries of organic life, but she paid handsomely for additional test subjects. And Yema was always happy to take a rival’s money.
“Shall we resume?” Yema asked. Today he officiated, set the agenda, and controlled the flow of the summit. After Nevri’s death, it had been Yema who took the reins, insisted that the summit continue. Dlella backed his assertion, trying to claim Nevri’s seat before it was even cold, but her boldness served his purposes.
In taking control of the summit, he’d accepted the responsibility that came with it, the corralling, the appeasing. He’d had to force the Smiling King to stay on task and keep Dlella’s dagger eyes from provoking COBALT-3 to pull out the Millrej’s forked tongue.
Children, all of them.
Medai pulled his chair in, making more noise than needed. “Yes, let’s.”
Yema looked to the Smiling King, who had ceased the rhyme and looked at Yema with rare clarity.
“We were discussing the matter of the insurrectionists’ bolt-holes.” Yema waved his hand and a map of Audec-Hal appeared on the blank yellow wall behind him. “Nevri succeeded in razing and destroying over a dozen, but we’ve identified more, locations that were kept back from Nevri’s original effort. I understand the need for our caution, especially given the late Plutocrat’s recent demise.”
Medai shifted in his seat, nervous. The Smiling King collapsed into a fit of profanities, clawing at the air.
“But if we are to end the threat of the Shields for good, we’ll need to be more trusting with information before we begin our assaults. Ideally, we will be able to attack each one at the same time to catch the Shields by surprise.”
The Smiling King slapped the table. “Flies! Damn flies!” Then he licked his hands, sucked in a broken carapace and cracked wings.
Yema continued, ignoring the madman. “I propose that we each make a list of known and suspected hideouts in our own domains, then coordinate our strikes.”
“Agreed,” said Medai Omez.
Dlella nodded. “Yes.”
“Affirmative,” said COBALT-3.
The Smiling King smiled. “Damn flies, squash them all, flies. Tasty with bacon and chives. Chives and flies.”
Yema cut the Smiling King off before he could get too far from the topic. “Moving on. I’d like to talk about security rotations for the district gates. The Shields have been able to move between districts too easily. I’d like to propose more restrictions on movement between districts.”
“I respectfully disagree,” said Dlella. “It will not be sufficient to stifle the Shields’ activities, and it will hamper trade. We’ve known for years that they use Audec’s bone hollows when we crack down on intra-city travel.”
COBALT-3 turned to Yema, catching his eye. Yema nodded, and COBALT-3 spoke. “Agreement: The Magister is correct. Assertion: Restricting passage will limit their activities and reduce the difficulty of maintaining surveillance on their operating areas.”
Dlella hissed. COBALT-3 and she locked gazes, eye-to-sensor.
The Millrej rose, scaled tail looping around her chair. “And it will slow trade between domains, reducing our revenues. That in turn reduces the number of soldiers we can pay to search for the Shields. Then they will merely steamroll our forces and escape. Again.”
“Erroneous assumption. Fact: approved mercantile shipments and movement can be granted high priority to enable uninterrupted trade.”
Yema stepped in. “Does anyone else have a comment on the proposal?”
Medai Omez stood. “I would like to hear more specifics before moving to a vote. What kind of additional measures are we suggesting?”
Clarification, specifics.
I carved out my territory in this city to rule, to leverage power into more power. Not to debate specifics with a quartet of psychotics and dull-witted amateurs.
Yema sighed. One day, he’d be rid of them all, and there would be peace. The summit would let him crush the Shields, then he could rub out his competitors, one by one.
Then the city would be peaceful again. No Shields, no oligarchs, just his firm hand controlling the future of Audec-Hal. The thought focused him as he jumped in to move things forward once again.
Wonlar always told him that the war began at the Republic Bell. It was only fitting that the war’s ending start there as well. The bell itself was eight feet tall and half that wide, old copper long since gone to verdigris. Aegis wondered if it could even be polished back to its original shine, or if it had been too long left.
He looked around the four entrances to the plaza. The bell was surrounded on all sides by government buildings. They’d never been officially claimed by Nevri, so they’d been hollowed out and turned into a market. Anyone could sell there, as long as they paid Nevri her thirty-five percent.
Ghost Hands spoke in his mind. [
We’re in place
.] The late-afternoon crowd was thick, not as thick as he’d like, but it would have to do.
Momentum builds quickly, but I have to get it started.
Aegis ripped off the grey cloak he’d used to hide his raiment and leapt up onto the platform that housed the Republic Bell. He raised the Aegis high and rang the bell loud enough for the whole district to hear. Once, twice, three times. Before the tyrants three bells had called for a public assembly. Only the older citizens would even remember the significance, but his father had insisted.
All eyes in the square moved to Aegis. His emerald, white, and silver raiment caught the fading sunlight, making him into a shimmering jewel.
His voiced filled the plaza, clear and compelling. His father has always been a wise man, a powerful man, but no other man or woman in Audec-Hal had the presence of Aegis.
“People of Audec-Hal, listen. We stand on the edge of liberation.”
“Nevri the Plutocrat is dead by the hand First Sentinel, Shield of Audec-Hal. I stand before you to say that the future of the city is in your hands. The Shields alone cannot free this city. We are your champions, but six women and men alone cannot turn the tide. Only you, the people, can truly pull Audec-Hal out of the nightmare it has endured these last fifty years.”
The people shuffled, murmuring. It was the same anytime he spoke.
They want it, but so few are willing to risk themselves, their families.
he saw the burgundy threads hold fast, strangle out the nascent emotions he’d stirred up.
But now I add the incentive.
“For years Nevri and her associates have taken the spoils of your labor, taxes for everything imaginable. Extortion without reason, tax without recompense. And where does it go? To Nevri’s corporate bank, not five blocks from here.”
Aegis paced around the bell, drawing people in from all directions. He glanced up to see Ghost Hands and Sabreslate quietly subduing the few tyrants’ guards in the area and hoped they had yet to signal an alarm.
“How would you like to reclaim that which is rightly yours? Take back decades of taxes and forced bribes? The tyrants and their finest guards are half a city away right now, plotting how to better oppress the city. Join us and we will storm the corporate bank, throw open the vaults, and you can retrieve what is rightly yours.”
Some nodded, a few even cheered.
Now more.
he had to control the passion, shape it to the city’s need, make an army and not just a mob.
“Do not take more than your claim; we have to share with one another. Divisiveness, jealousy, and infighting are their tools, not ours. This city is one of cooperation, equality, and fairness. We offer you a chance to right the balances. And tonight is only the first step. Spread the word, for by this summer’s end, the tyrants will be driven from the tower of The crown. The republic of Audec-Hal will be restored. All of this is within our grasp!”
The crowd was energized, freshly formed purple threads of earned authority streaming out to Aegis’ heart. “Now come with me, and we will take back our city!”
The crowd started to shift, ripples of motion gaining momentum.
And now we move.
Aegis pulled out his father’s grappling gun and fired towards the north entrance. The rope carried him up and over, depositing him at the head of the crowd. He nodded to Sapphire, and then turned to the people.
This could go poorly so fast. City Mother, guide us.
“People of Audec-Hal, this way!”
They followed. Slow at first, as the crowd jumbled, not yet moving together. After years of decrees prohibiting the assembly of unrelated adults, decades of living with one eye on the lookout for the guards, the people of Audec-Hal didn’t quite know how to be a group anymore.
In another generation, the city might be too far gone. Parents could tell stories of how the city used to be, but few children would take up the banner as fervently as he or Blurred Fists had.
Revolution was in our blood, it’s not in theirs.
They moved towards the bank, slow and deliberate. People leaned out windows and doorways, pulled by curiosity, and Aegis drew them in with snippets of his speech. He held the shield high for all to see, and the crowd grew, drawn to the last symbol of the City Mother’s benevolence.
He trusted in the others to help keep the group in order and avoid attrition from those whose nerve broke before the fight. He wouldn’t push, wouldn’t coerce. He could call to each man and woman’s patriotism.
And to their greed, really, but is it greed to desire the money you’ve earned with your own labor?
They crossed out of the residential district of office workers into the financial district. Aegis crested a hill and the bank rose into view.
The guards had mobilized, as Aegis expected. He counted several dozen armed soldiers in the street, and guessed there would be twice as many inside.
He lifted his voice to project over the crowd. The mob trailed for blocks behind him, a sea of heads and shoulders. “There it is!” Aegis pressed the gem on his bracelet to call the team forward. “Shields on me! Citizens, follow us when we’ve taken care of these guards!”
Aegis bounded forward to the head of the crowd. A volley of magical blasts fired off from the guards’ assorted artifacts, but he held the Aegis out ahead and nothing connected.
He couldn’t risk the glance over his shoulder to make sure the crowd wasn’t hit, but he didn’t hear any cries of pain, and hoped for the best
. Focus, Selweh. Break them fast. We can’t hold this crowd together for long.
he charged into the mass of guards, sweeping the Aegis to bowl over three waiting Ikanollo.
No turning back. Forward, on until the tyrants are deposed or the last Shield is buried. No more waiting, no more skulking in shadows.
Finally.
Aegis’s joy and excitement exploded in a rallying shout, “For Audec-Hal!” and the battle was joined.
* * *
The street had become a meat grinder, chaos and stampedes, flashing blades and pressing crowds. The Shields and their crowd had the guards outnumbered 10 to 1, but the guards were better armed, and Aegis spent most of his time keeping the citizens rallied.
A large Millrej bear-kin guard with jet-black fur and a pronounced snout had forced five citizens back against the wall of the bank. The bear-man spun a thick quarterstaff, administering blows like a cruel master-at-arms punishing his problem students.
Aegis shouldered another guard out of the way and leapt to their aid. He deflected the quarterstaff up and away, pushed the bear-kin onto his back.
He took the five under his wing. Three men and two women, all in their twenties it seemed, outclassed but earnest. Earnest was good. Will could make up for many deficits, if properly prompted and guided. He just had to keep them alive.
“Attack two or three at once, vary high and low strikes, and watch both sides of that staff.” The bear-kin crawled to all-fours and roared.
We need to get a foothold inside the bank if this is going to work.
Aegis pulsed in with a feint, drawing a bite from the guard. Backpedaling, Aegis grabbed the Millrej’s snout-mouth and wrapped his right arm around his jaws.
Got you.
Aegis called, “attack!” The group of five swarmed the guard. They picked away at him with their small weapons, knives and trowels and clubs. The Qava woman buried her fire poker into the guard’s side, no doubt pushed by her telekinesis. The bear-kin growled in pain through its closed snout.
The Millrej reared back, pulling Aegis off of the ground. Aegis released his shield hand and hammered the Aegis down onto the bear’s head while his team picked away at the bear-kin’s sides. A paw struck the Qava woman on the side, knocking her down.
“Get clear!” Aegis called, driving the shield into the Millrej’s head again. The Millrej cried out in pain and collapsed into a hirsute mass.
Aegis shouted, “Form on me and press inside!” Then he spoke in his mind, hoping Bira would hear him. [
Ghost Hands, blow the doors, now!
]
He turned back to his unremarkable squadron and drew them forward. One of the men was a Pronai. He’d be able to move between targets quickly.
“Stay close on me. Keep them off my back, and attack with me or one another. Never fight alone. Call out if you’re in trouble. The most important thing you can do is communicate.”
The doors were covered by a pair of Freithin, a Millrej wolf-kin wielding a case of rapiers, and a Jalvai, who stood horizontally out of the wall. The Jalvai had raised a halfcircle barrier up out of the street to bar any intruders.
Aegis called in the wreckers. [
Ghost Hands and Sabreslate, doors on three
.]
He crumpled a passing guard with a roundhouse kick, then pulled back and spread his arms to steady the squad. “Wait for my mark.”
Ghost Hands swooped over the crowd, raising both hands. Several bolts and arrows shot up at her and were waved away; their angles tweaked just enough to fly wide.
[
Two. One. Mark
.] at the mark, Sabreslate widened her stance, sinking several inches into the cobblestones. Aegis saw and remembered the ordeal she’d put herself through the night they’d destroyed the Rebirth engine. But she didn’t show any signs of slowing down.
At the same time that Sabreslate sank into the ground, Ghost Hands gestured towards the wall. The Jalvai construct cracked and the guards behind it lost their footing, falling against the doors. Metal bent with a pained groan, the struts strained. Despite the women’s efforts, the reinforced steel of the doors held fast.
The Jalvai guard scrambled to repair the wall, but Sabreslate emerged beside her and grabbed the woman, leaving the semi-circle only two feet high. The two of them disappeared into the stone wall, a jumble of kicks, punches, and grapples.
Another wave of force cracked the wall and pulled one of the steel doors off its hinges. “More!” Aegis called, scanning the Shields’ forces, taking count and making calculations of what to do when they’d breached the doorway.
Ghost Hands shot out another wave, sending guards diving for safety. One of the Freithin guards jumped out of the way, avoiding the blast by diving into to the surrounding citizens, fighting with power but not control. If they couldn’t hold from the door then they’d make a perimeter. But that would mean they were more spread out. And that gave him an opening.
“Sapphire, form on me! Ghost Hands, push the left flank!”
Aegis called his squadron forward, along with another dozen citizens. They were bound to one another by a thin band of dull green of casual partnership, but were joined to him by strong purple threads of loyalty, tinged with silver adoration. They’d fight for Aegis but not one another. He would rather have it the other way around.
Selweh had borne the mantle for three years, carrying on a tradition decades in the making, goaded on by the ghost of the four patriots who had given their lives for the city. The people followed the ghosts, the shield, and the concept of Aegis more than the man or woman who bore the title.
Do I really deserve that loyalty? The only way to be sure is to keep earning it.
A crossbow bolt shot toward his face and his training took over. He ducked, and the bolt whistled overhead. He heard the version of Wonlar in his mind again, instructive more than chiding.
Stay in the present. Contemplate later.
“I’m here, Aegis.” Sapphire filled the space behind him, and he formed a huddle, looking to his fellow Shield and the nearby citizens.
“We’re taking the door. Sapphire, move right and engage the Freithin, I’m taking my squad up the middle. We need to take the door so everyone can get inside. I’m leading them in; can you hold the door?”
“Your squad?” The question had a touch of doubt.
Aegis smiled and looked around, clapping the shoulders of the citizens to his right and left. “Yes, my squad. Can you hold the door?”
“Of course.”
“For Audec-Hal.”
“For Audec-Hal,” was the muddled response.
We’ll have to work on battle cries.
Sapphire led a group off to the right, engaging the rampaging Freithin and the remaining guards hunkered behind the short wall. Overhead, Ghost Hands was slowly ripping the door out, the sound of tearing metal a slow constant in the background.
He addressed his squad. “We’re going to break through the middle. Stay with me, and don’t stop.” They were all surrounded by yellow bands of fear flapping in the wind, entangling the purple and silver, threatening to shear the newer threads.
“You can do this. Trust me, trust one another.” The yellow in the bands dimmed as the purple and silver lines broke free then braided themselves around the fear and squeezed.
A dozen bloodied bodies were strewn about the street the attack already taking its toll on their mob. Web-like rivulets of blood filled the mortar hollows between the cobblestones. The crowd was still massed, and they were fighting hard, overwhelming the guards, but at great cost.
And we haven’t even made it inside yet. We have to move faster or give up.
The door fell free and crashed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust.
Aegis looked up, raised his shield and his voice.
“People of Audec-Hal, charge!”
He led the surge himself, adopted honor guard at his heels and a motley host in tow. On the right, Sapphire plowed through a trio of guards and tackled the wild Freithin, clearing the path to the door.