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a-brief-history-of-magic · 7 years

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These New Gods

Part 2: The Price of Life

Cael watched as the thief woman disappeared through the city streets. He was amazed, for a moment, by the way she seemed to be there, there, and then gone. Nobody passed in front of her, and he did not blink, but she was there and then she was not and he could not remember the space in between.

“We should probably falloooo-oh you’re already gone,” Cael said, staring at the empty space of sidewalk where his other companion had been. A conspicuous head of blue hair bounced through the streets in front of them.

“I know doing stupid shit for the hell of it is your job, but could you at least wait?” Cael yelled. No one so much as flinched, least of all his target. Fields these people creeped him out. Half of them were walking skeletons, starved and shambling through the city streets. They only looked at him with vacant and uncaring eyes. He was half-sure that he could reveal his nimbus in the middle of the street, and everyone would look at him as if he were nothing more than a hunger induced delusion. Though their lifelessness disgusted him, Cael could not dredge up a feeling of contempt. He knew what hunger did to a person. The sympathy that ran in currents between his own body and the emaciated forms of strangers only made him uncomfortable. He really wanted to be done with this shit, and get out of this stupid city.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched to make sure that Wendrii didn’t wander off anywhere. They didn’t need another incident, especially after what happened in the last town they were in. Fuck, he wasn’t sure how many more times they could repair that poor table.

Cael should probably follow along. After all, this thief was interesting. And if she was going to be traveling with them, it made sense to test her skill. The last thing Cael wanted was another useless tagalong. Although, even if she were incompetent, at least her hair wasn’t blue.

He snagged Wendrii by the collar and dragged him towards the square.

“Where are we going?” Wendrii asked.

“To watch that woman steal some stuff,” Cael replied. Wendrii hummed for a second.

“Isn’t stealing a crime?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, just checking.”

It was times like this when Cael remembered the feeling of starving on a roadside, just feet from the edge of a field that could have sated his hunger. His body had been too weak to save itself. At that moment he would have done anything for food.

When the farmer’s son spotted him, and gave him some beets, Cael had pledged to repay that kindness. Now he regretted that. Starving to death would have been so much easier than taking care of Wendrii.

They trudged off in the direction Cael had seen the others go. They couldn’t have gotten far. After all this stupid town only had two roads. As they entered the square, things got a little more crowded. It seemed the entire town was meandering aimlessly through the space, staring off at some imagined place where their body wasn’t in the midst of devouring itself. It creeped Cael the fuck out, but he found himself a spot on the wall nevertheless.

He spotted a homely guard, his fist shoved into his pocket on the other side of the square. Judging by the way his clothes billowed in the faint wind, he was desperately underfed. There were a few other guards near him, but Cael didn’t recognize their faces. He was certain that man was their mark. His hand shifted in his pocket, holding onto something dear. Cael scanned the area around but couldn’t spot the woman. After a moment or two, he diverted his attention back to Wendrii. The kid was picking the dandelions that grew around his feet, and then tossing them to the side, as if testing how many times he could pick it before it stopped growing back. He had a sizable little pile growing.

Then a cart appeared, just outside the little town’s murky border, and the bodies inside of the square began to churn. A dull buzzing permeated the air as people mumbled to themselves and the strangers at their sides. As the cart entered the square in truth there was a moment of stillness in which no one seemed to have realized what had arrived in their midst. Then, like a single, living mass, the crowd surged forward with a roar. The vendor, a small, wiry man, looked terrified as they descended upon him. Moments later a shout came from the direction of the cart.

“What the Hell! This is all rotten!”

An apple flew from the surfing crowd, as if vomited from some unhappy stomach. It hit the grown and ruptured into an oozing puddle. Two seconds passed, and then something long and dark squirmed from the muck.

“Now wait, please,” the vendor began, “This is all…”

He never got farther. The crowd descended, all claws and teeth on open flesh. His words choked off in a scream. The three guards, finally noting what was happening, turned as one and entered the riot, trying in vain to restore order. Cael thought he saw some faint glimmer of metal out of the corner of his eye. His first thought was that it must’ve been the guard’s pocket watch. He had focused on it so much that now it was catching his eye. However, as he looked out into the square, he realized he had been wrong. Very wrong. Wendrii’s scythe, dull and rusting through it was, caught the light.

He was a hair’s width behind the guards already, charging full force into the crowd of ravenous strangers. Stupid reckless farmer boy. Had there been gods left to curse, Cael would have laid them out. As it were he charged after Wendrii, and wished, vaguely, that he had been allowed to starve, or better yet, that he had been laid to rest with his parents.

Anger, hot and tangible, prickled along his skin. As he passed through the crowed, it jumped, catching and flickering to life along the skin of those who drew too near. They screamed as the fire caught. He did not care. He pressed on.

…

There was nothing like a good riot to get people focused on their emotions and not on people trying to pickpocket them. Not that Luciya had been in a lot of riots before, but she found that this one was convenient. She had gotten within a few yards of the guard-and then she heard the first scream. Then another, and another.

“Cael, no! Oh for fuck’s- Cael!” The now familiar voice of the gaudy one rose above the peppering screams. Just as she was beginning to wonder what that was even supposed to mean, Wendrii, the skinny farm boy, ran full tilt into her. His face was aghast, and cast in a deep shadow. Behind him, Cael was struggling through the crowd. Fire flickered around him, eating up all those who stood too near, in a swarming orange flame. Then something hot, painfully so, touched her shoulder.

“Damn,” she muttered. She dropped backwards on the ground and rolled. The angry feet of rampaging citizens crashed around her. One person nearly nailed her shoulder with his sole, before she rolled again. The fire on her shoulder was nothing but sputtering ash now, but she had lost the guard.

…

Mayor Arivan did not like messes and he certainly did not like to leave his research. A large, almost corpulent man, Mayor Arivian, was not generally fond of walking either. And yet here he was, walking amidst a mess. A scraggly black beard obscured several, but not all, of his chins, and in one hand he held a large leather bound book. A golden medallion hung heavy around his neck. He tapped at the piece of white marble set in the center. A soft glow radiated from the pendant. This light shifted in and out of focus, twisting into the aberrant symbols of a language long dead, or not yet born. He was not entirely sure how to classify the language of divinity.

Arivan surveyed the scene. When Nelumriel had assigned him to a backwater town, Arivan was delighted. Nothing was supposed to happen in boring little backwater towns. But no, first someone stole his spy glass, and now this? He heaved a great sigh of irritation and opened his book. It fell open to the exact page he needed at his behest, and he ran his fingers over the words he wanted to speak.

Therem obet selvian. A voice larger than his own swept out through the square, echoing in the ears of every man, woman, and child within a hundred yards. On the ground the putrid mixture of blood, water, and rotting fruit squirmed as if alive, then lurched up into the air, forming into an orb that hovered above the still raging blaze.

Stue. Arivan punctuated his last by snapping the book closed. The orb broke apart, raining down all the city's bile on the people below. It rained on and on, well past when the water should have run dry, but soon enough the fires were out. And most people were still alive, if drenched in muck and nursing burns of varying intensity.

There. Now maybe he could get him work done. Arivan turned and marched himself out the square, his belly bouncing as he did.

…

Luciya stepped up onto the soaked and splintered remains of vendor’s cart to get a slightly better look. The people were still confused, and a little angry, but the fire had calmed them down. Now people were shaking off the water and rained muck while they stomped about and cursed. Among the havoc, it was hard to tell whether the dark liquid smeared across the ground was blood or some form of rotting vegetable. A chunk of what might have been flesh or the remains of a melon, landed on her foot, and she kicked it away.

Then she saw the guard.

And boy, was it her lucky day. The guard was attempting to drag a grieving woman from what Luciya could only assume was the burning ghost of her child, lost somewhere in the crowd. Best of all, they were positioned right in front of her acquaintances. She felt as if she were putting on a show.

So she strode towards the guard, and over barely distinguishable shouts of “Leave me be!” and “Come away!” she reached into his right pocket. Her hand closed around the pocket watch, and she immediately pulled it out, with a few nights’ dose of dream dust for good measure.

Then there was a hand on her shoulder, yanking her away from the crowd. A few seconds later she was looking up into the grizzly, tired face of Cael.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, looking off to the side. Luciya shook off his hand and glared at him. He raised an eyebrow and then took a half-step away from her as a rumpled and singed looking Wendrii looked between the two. The gaudy one was sneering down at his now ruined clothes.

“Are you shitting me?” he mumbled, flicking some viscus liquid from the tips of his fingers. “Are you fucking with me right now? Fuck … Fuck.”

“I appreciate your concern for my safety, Fire Man, but I was doing fine myself,” she pronounced. Then she looked at the talkative one. “Here’s your watch.” She tried to make her voice a nonchalant as possible, but a faint note of pride snuck in, as she tossed him the watch that had almost destroyed a decent portion of Seyla.

As the watch spun in the air a heavy hand gloved in mail clamped down on Luciya’s shoulder. Unnoticed in all the confusion a man had come up behind the group. He wore a heavy mail shirt with a tabard tight over it. A sword rising from a book was stitched in bright silver cloth on a field of black, the symbol of Nulumriel. His features were fair, but haughty, and his black hair was slicked back. He grinned sickly, revealing teeth like chipped marble.

“There you are, you little bitch.” His voice was thick, spreading through the air like oil, “How did I know you were responsible for all this?” His gaze moved languidly over the rest of the group, pausing for a moment longer on the talkative one and the watch he snatched from the air. “And it seems you’ve got a little band now too? Well I guess I’d better be taking you all then. The Mayor will deal with you.”

He tightened his grip, the rings of his glove pressing hard against Luciya’s shoulder, until she could feel the blood vessels breaking beneath her skin.

Oh, fuck. Luciya had specifically stayed out of trouble (well, as much as she ever could) ever since she had stolen her spyglass. Or rather, the Mayor’s spyglass. It really was an excellent spyglass, and as far as she could tell, they didn’t know she had it. Of course they would search her now, and take it back. She would be stuck alone again, with one normal eye and uncontrollable, ridiculous sight from her nimbus.

Even that was optimistic. If they let her live, she would spend the rest of her life rotting in an eight by eight jail cell.

“Go get fucked by a cactus, Justrad,” she snarled as she struggled to free her shoulder. It was a petty and futile gesture. They both knew that Justrad was stronger and better armed. She sighed, and let a little bit of the fight slip out of her.

“You don’t need to worry about taking these people in-I truly don’t know who they are,” she said. “That one hired me to steal a watch for him, but I just met him a few moments ago. When I was, as you like to put it, ‘slinking around,’ I knocked into a lamp, and everything caught on fire from there. So, as you love reminding me, you self-absorbed, sadistic bastard, everything is my fault.” She didn’t even hazard a look at the other three gods. It was better this way. If only she got caught than she was the only one she need to worry about when she set up an escape plan. It was so much easier than worrying about clumsy and conspicuous fr-people.

“I’m sorry, did I make that sound like a request?” Without loosening his grip Justrad moved his other hand and drew his sword. “If you’re willing to defend them, then I want them.”

At the same moment five more guards, including the one whose watch was currently swinging from the gaudy one’s outstretched hand, stepped out of the milling crowd.

“Now, you have a choice,” Justrad continued, “You come with us to see the Mayor in one piece or we bring you to see him in many.”

Cael snarled and stepped up to Justrad, and though the man towered well above him, Cael held far more presence.

“She’s just a bystander. Some drunken idiot tripped over one of the lamps and set this whole rotted mess on fire. I saw him get swept up in the mess myself. If you want to imprison the fire starter, you had best get a broom to sweep him up first,” Cael said with a low sharp voice that carried all the heat of his halo's fire.

Luciya jumped, and looked at him. Not only was the lie stupid and obvious, but it’s purpose was moot. Justrad wouldn’t let them go if they kept butting in. If they would just let her take the fall she could free herself. But three other people? And just what did they hope to gain by going to prison with her.

The flamboyant one sighed, pressed his sopping bangs back from his forehead and put a smile on his face that was equal parts admiring and derisive. He looked as if he thought this all a very inconvenient misunderstanding, and the swords just silly props. The other guards looked between Justrad and the man. The flamboyant one cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

“Cael’s right. What a sly man you are Justrad,” he began, slowly raising his voice in careful inclines, so as to catch the attention of the surrounding people. “No really, this is all quite the clever set up. If you blame us, you think no one will notice your crimes. First you, and your government deny the starving people food while you gorge yourself.” Here he paused and looked to the nearest milling citizen, before nodding to Justrad with a smile that fell into something twisted and angry.

“Truly, honestly, look at his belt, it barely fits around his waist. How many meals have you wasted with half eaten food, while children starved in the street. Ah, but I suppose that I could forgive. In this dead age of course beasts would do what it takes to survive. But now they can’t be sated with taking our food, they have to devour our pride too? Look what they’ve done, they throw promises of food and its sweet relief before us, and then watch as we consume this rot, laughing as if we were animals. Liars, all of them! How dare they do this to us. This isn’t survival, this is indulgence, cruel gluttony!”

“What the Hell are you talking about!” Justrad’s voice was pitched with fury and fear in equal measure. “I haven’t eaten a good meal in weeks! We suffer just as much as them!”

There was a chorus of agreements from the other guards, but it was already too late. The nameless man’s words had woken the beast that blood and filth had put to sleep. With a howl of blind rage the crowd surged again. The air became thick with rotten fruit and broken stones, a rain of violence and putrefaction. Caught in the center of it all the guards grouped around their leader, trying their best to hold off the crowd while dodging the most dangerous projectiles. From this knot Justrad looked out, his eyes ablaze, and reached towards the man with the blue hair. His long fingers were a hair’s breath away from his neck, when Luciya kicked Justrad back, back into his own men.

“Listen here, you fucker!” he cried over the howling din, “You will pay! I will break you in my hands and watch you weep for mercy!”

He may have said more, but at that moment a roofing tile caught him, hurled from above by some dexterous hand, and opened a gash across his brow. He stumbled back, vision choked with blood and his voice cut off as it filled his mouth.

“Yeah,” the man with blue hair said, “I’ve heard that one before.”

“Don’t just stand there, you idiot, run,” Luciya yelled, grabbing his wrist and yanking them both through the crowed. She looked back only once, just long enough to scoop up a stone and hurl it at Justrad. In the flash of movement she saw two things, the first was the stone making a satisfying smack against his temple, and the second was Cael, who was dragging Wendrii through the fray a couple feet behind.

“This way!” she yelled over her shoulder. Then she set off running, and while she refused to look back, she nursed a strange, fervent, hope that the three were following her. She slipped the newly acquired dream dust into one of her many pockets and smiled as she felt the weight of her spyglass. Not today, Mayor Arivan. You’re not getting it back today.

They ran and ran, through the dingy, muck mired alleys, until the nameless man began to drag as a dead weight behind her and they had to stop just three streets away from Lady Kavian’s home. Luciya looked behind her, and watched as the gaudy one doubled over, wheezing. Cael and Wendrii were missing, lost somewhere behind them. Luciya hoped they would catch up, or at least safe somewhere else.

“Monte,” the flamboyant one said, after a fast gasp. Luciya stared at him a moment, blinking.

“What?” she asked.

“Monte- my name. I’m Monte Alteel. I don’t think we were ever properly introduced.” He righted himself and dusted off his jacket before extending a hand. She eyed him a moment. Monte Alteel sounded like a fake name, but hell, he might have just saved her life. He started a riot that might just fuck up this city, but he might have just saved all their lives too.

“Luicya Zareth,” she said. She gripped his hand, and found that his hand was not as soft as his face. Thick callouses covered the underside of his knuckles. They grated against even her own rough hand.

The flamboyant one-Monte- smiled at her.

“I’d like to say it’s been nice knowing you, but-” he began.

“Luciya!” A body slammed into Luciya’s shoulder, and spun her around. Lady Kavian stared at her with wild, frantic eyes that searched her ever inch for harm. “Luicya, Fields, are you alright? Are you hurt, I heard there was a riot and a fire.”

There was another storm of footsteps, and Luciya was just able to see Monte hail someone out of the corner of her eye. She supposed Wendrii and Cael had finally found them.

“Who are these men, what-what happened?” Lady Kavian asked. Luciya winced.

“A lot,” she said.

“I-I need to get back to the apothecary, and get my supplies, but I left because I wanted to …” She trailed off and looked at the men, then back at Luciya. “I talked to one of Loretto’s friends when he stopped by the apothecary and I- He said he hadn’t heard from Loretto’s Bower in almost a week.” Her eyes were tight with a plea that Luciya didn’t know how to answer.

“Do you need someone to go look for him?” Cael asked as his quick breathing leveled. Luciya whipped her head up, and found her heart beating in her throat. Yes, that had been what she wanted to say. Lady Kavian looked as if no one had ever offered her so much kindness, and though Luciya felt a stab of jealousy, she was glad that someone had said something.

“Yes, thank the … Please, the Bower is only a few hours north from here. My son’s name is Loretto, he’s a guard there. If there really is a riot I have to get into town-get my supplies,” she said walking away even as she spoke. She stopped for just a second, cupping Luciya’s face in her hands and planting a quick kiss to her forehead. The affection stunned Luciya. Neither women were tactile people, and yet-

“Stay safe,” Lady Kavian said. Then she was gone. Monte sighed.

“I guess we’re going to a Bower then.”

#These New Gods #Wendrii Hull #Cael Sartoras #Luciya Zareth #Monte Alteel #D&D #RPG #roleplay #Cypher System #Fantasy #writing

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