Chapter 35 – It Begins

The Undercity was silent despite the army gathered within its limits.

Apart from the four hundred fighters, who stood in squads of six—five warriors and one mage—there were several hundred additional volunteers from the city itself, armed with firearms pilfered by Stranger and her agents.

The Bluebirds were at the front of the pack, facing one of the great stone gates leading out of the city. The two goddesses loomed next to them.

The plan was to make a straight line from Wicker Lane, to Willow’s Fork, to Rathome, and finally to Kingswatch, where they would lay siege to the Arcanex and finally eliminate Couldess.

After that, the Bluebirds would ensure that the government was destabilized enough for a new, fairer regime to step in.

Linton chewed a piece of bark, for the pain and for his nerves.

Stranger approached Imwe’s side, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Linton didn’t trust the woman. He tried to keep an eye on her when possible, but she seemed to appear and disappear as she pleased.

The only person she was unable to sneak up on was her master.

“Report,” Imwe said.

“Bad news, my lady,” Stranger said. “Merith Whittler has announced a ceasefire with Gaerwyn.”

A ceasefire? Linton thought. Bad news, indeed.

He had never thought that Whittler might have been able to pull something like that off. He would have pinned both sides as being too stubborn.

Able to take some pressure off the frontlines, Whittler could theoretically send any number of troops to reinforce the capital, shifting the balance of power even further in the MOW’s favor.

Leaving only one question: what would the goddesses do about it?

“Then we attack immediately,” Gisa said. “Before the traitors can collaborate.”

“Indeed,” Imwe said.

Linton agreed with them. If the attack didn’t happen now, it never would. If Northmark was bolstered by military troops, the amount of fighters they currently had wouldn’t put a dent in the city’s defense.

“Is this really a good idea?” Doc asked in a hushed tone.

“Bad ideas are all we have left,” Linton said.

“Hey! Wait! Don’t leave without me!” Frost’s voice echoed over the ranks.

Linton looked over his shoulder and soon spotted the lubbard pushing his way through squads of disgruntled warriors. He reached the Bluebirds, pink frill hanging over his face as he panted and wheezed.

“You’re late,” Linton said.

“Sorry, lost track of time,” Frost said, slowly composing himself. He was covered in grease and muck and had distinct rings of grime around his eyes from his goggles. “I had to finish a project.”

“That gun?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s see it, then.”

Frost pulled a firearm off his shoulder, which hung by a strap, and threw it at Linton, who caught it in both hands.

Turning the weapon over, it seemed to be some kind of compact shotgun, built from scrap and blackened with soot.

“Some of my finest work,” Frost said.

Linton felt a line of grooves along the side and rubbed some of the soot away as he inspected it up close. Letters.

It read: ‘IN MEMORY OF A BRAVE BASTARD.’

“For Hunter,” Frost said with a nod. “It’s called Embertusk.”

Linton smiled and handed it back. “I think he would have liked it.” He frowned at the weapon, which contained a multitude of components he wasn’t quite familiar with. “What does it do?”

“Oh, it’s simple, really,” Frost said, suddenly invigorated. “You just get your fuel source…” He inserted a glowing cell of red anima—presumably borrowed from Cat—into the circular magazine well. “Then a payload; whatever debris you have lying around works.” He dug into his pocket for a handful of nails and bolts and jammed them into a slot in the side of the gun. “Then…” He looked around, reluctantly lowering the shotgun. “Hmm. I guess I’ll give you the full demonstration once I have some good targets.”

Linton chuckled. “Fair enough. Wouldn’t want to take anyone’s head off.”

Frost handed out nim potions, two each for Linton, Cat, and Doc.

A ripple went through the lines of the revolutionaries as Gisa barked out her orders. Everyone stood a little straighter, and what murmurs there had been dropped away.

Cat jumped up and down and threw a few air punches. “This is it, guys. You ready?”

“Ready,” Aeva said.

“Not really, but I suppose there’s no going back,” Doc said.

Imwe raised one pale, slender hand.

The gates swung open.

***

They came out of a separate location than the one Linton had previously used to enter the Undercity, an abandoned basement. The revolutionaries moved in narrow files behind their goddesses, streaming out into the street. There was no opposition, but civilians had already taken notice and welcomed their presence.

Linton had the Bluebirds diverge from the rest of the revolutionary army as it moved out, moving parallel alongside it through alleyways.

First contact came not long after. A trio of lawkeepers ordered the revolutionaries to stand down and disperse, waving their weapons. Gisa breathed a plume of fire and the men ran away screaming, favoring their lives over duty.

They didn’t see any others for the next few minutes.

“Cat, do some scouting from the rooftops,” Linton said, pointing upward. “They’ll know we’re here by now.”

“Got it,” Cat said. She made it onto a nearby building with a few pushes of kinetic force and followed the rest of the Bluebirds from there.

Throwing out a web of cognition, Linton was able to catch another obstacle up ahead, beyond the bend. A substantial force. Ready to fight, judging by their flared auras.

He warned the goddesses of the danger, but they seemed to already be aware of it. They pressed on, undeterred.

Soon after, the enemy came into view—a line of both lawkeepers and truthers, hastily formed but refusing to budge even at the sight of an army with two giants at its head. There were perhaps a hundred of them, hidden behind cover where they could, and they opened fire before diplomacy could be attempted.

The priests threw up wards to protect their lines, compounded by divine protection and slotted to allow the fighters to fire through it. Linton couldn’t help but admire the complex patchwork of hardlight and more esoteric artistry. He felt no need to add to it.

With a wave of her delicate hand, Imwe teleported a group of her fighters onto a nearby rooftop to provide fire support.

“Are we going in or what?” Cat called from a roof, looking down into the alley.

“Wait a second!” Linton said. “Let’s see how this pans out first.”

As the revolutionaries fired back, truther lines bloomed with wards of their own. They didn’t shine as bright as the revolutionaries’, but judging by the rate it was deteriorating, it was going to soak up enough gunfire to slow them down.

“They’ve got mages in there,” Linton said. “Let’s move in and take them out. Can’t afford to get stuck here. The longer we take, the longer the MOW has to organize a proper defense.”

Before he could put his orders into motion, a gap opened up in the revolutionary wards and Gisa rushed forward, flaming hair streaming behind her, eyes wide.

She was peppered with gunfire as she ran straight for the enemy lines, footfalls like thunder. Partway, her skin began to emit a thick smoke, concealing her from view. When she emerged, she had taken the form of a giant, ash-grey steed with a fiery mane.

She charged straight through the wards, shattering the glassy dome and trampling truthers underneath her hooves. They screamed and fired back at her, but she didn’t stop for a moment.

With a whirl of flame, she morphed back into a woman, wielding a molten blade. She swung it around wildly, cutting down black-clad truthers and blue-clad lawkeepers alike.

Their lines broke, and the revolutionaries fired after them as they attempted to flee.

“Well, well,” Linton said. “Looks like I might have underestimated our allies. This could be easier than I thought.”

***

Septum paced around his office, contemplating what Fummel had just reported. The Church of Rags had launched a full-scale attack on the city. The Bluebirds hadn’t been sighted yet, but he could only assume that they had a part in it.

The attack had come sooner than he’d expected. Luckily, he wasn’t completely unprepared.

Septum called Whittler on the stationary transceiver in his office. To her credit, she actually answered.

“I’m in the middle of something,” she said. “Peace talks don’t hold themselves, Couldess.”

“It’s time,” he said. “The Bluebirds and the Church of Rags are making their play. An attack on the city itself. Both Gisa and Imwe are on the field.”

“That soon?”

“Yes. How quick can you have it here?”

“A few hours. I’ll get going immediately. I will send a ship ahead to update you on our progress.”

“Excellent.”

He hung up and turned to the two other people in the room.

Tess fiddled nervously with a knife. Mara was telling her how to hold it, moving his daughter’s fingers into a proper grip.

“Mara, listen up,” Septum said.

“Yes, sir?” She snapped to attention.

“I have a job for you. Meet up with some monster hunters on the first floor and head for Wicker Lane. Catch the terrorists before they leave the district.”

“You know I love the odd heart-pounding race against the odds as much as any other girl,” Mara said, “but that’s suicide. They’ve got two of the old gods on their side. You know perfectly well how many fighters were required to take them all down the first time.”

“They’re weaker now,” Septum remarked. “Starved of devotion. Besides, you needn’t worry about numbers. I’ve got Storm and the Ironhearts acting as a distraction. You’ll be working alongside him on this.”

“I see.”

“The execution is up to you. Just try and occupy them as long as you can. Bleed them for all you have. If you manage to take out a goddess or one of the Bluebirds, that’s extra. When the situation gets out of hand, you have permission to retreat. We clear?”

Mara bobbed her head. “Yes, sir.”

Septum formed a mental link between himself and the archon so that he could keep track of her. “Good. I’ll be in touch.”

Mara left in a hurry, leaving only Tess in the room with him. His expression softened when he looked at her.

“It’ll be alright,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

It was his solemn oath. He would make sure she was safe, even if he had to lay down his life to stave off the terrorists.

“I know, Dad,” Tess said. She attempted a smile, but he saw straight through it.

She was terrified.

Septum would never forgive Linton Granhorn for having done such a thing to his daughter.

***

Fresh blood flocked to the revolutionary army by the hundreds. Men, women, even teens hardly old enough to drink. People of every race and creed. Linton watched with satisfaction.

He had several clones encouraging the populace while he stayed safely off to the side. A rickety skyship manned with representatives of the Northmark Rebel were dropping flyers all over the district and using a farshout to urge anyone to pick up arms against the government.

About two dozen lawkeepers from the Wicker Lane precinct joined the revolutionaries, casting aside their loyalties to the MOW. Linton liked to believe that his father would have made the same choice, given the opportunity.

They encountered only token resistance as they pushed further through Wicker Lane. Only a few groups of truthers that decided to make a stand, quickly fleeing once they realized just how grossly outmatched they were.

Not many managed to get away. Most were gunned down as they ran for their lives.

Linton had worried that the sheer numbers of their fighting force would present a problem as they were squeezed through Wicker Lane’s narrow streets, split into several sections across many lanes. It proved, however, that Imwe was well capable of coordinating her people, communicating her orders telepathically across all battle lines simultaneously.

So far, it seemed that the real challenge would prove to be the Arcanex itself.

Did Couldess decide to hold back his archons? Linton wondered. Maybe he’s planning to turtle up inside his tower until MOG help can arrive. That wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Not quite his style, though.

“Are we even gonna get to do anything?” Cat asked from a rooftop. “I’m getting bored up here.”

“Consider yourself lucky if boredom is all you have to suffer through,” Linton said.

Distant screams met his ears and caused him to jerk up straight. A ripple went through the revolutionary lines as far as he could see.

Portals opened and closed amid the revolutionaries, the black anima registering as reverberations inside Linton’s mental net. Ironhearts stepped out of the portals, firing automatic rifles. Swathes of revolutionary fighters were gunned down in an instant, and the rest were confused, reeling, unable to immediately identify the danger in their midst. After a few seconds of firing, the Ironhearts stepped back into the portals they came from, which disappeared, then appeared in different locations to resume their bloody deed.

“Okay, it’s time for us to step in,” Linton said, walking towards the ragged lines. “Doc, take care of the wounded. Everyone else, with me.”

Frost and Aeva closed up behind him. Cat leapt off the roof and landed in a roll beside him before bouncing onto her feet.

Linton got out a pistol and aimed for the Ironhearts, but they were right among their allies, making it too risky a proposition to open fire. Even if he’d had a clean shot, such piddly weaponry likely would have done nothing against the heavily armored constructs.

Frost’s weapon was also unsuited for the situation, clearly designed for fights where friendly fire was not an issue.

Aeva and Cat, however, showed no hesitation, leaping in among the army ranks. Aeva caught an Ironheart in the midsection with a kick as it attempted to retreat into a portal, causing it to stumble. Cat flew overhead on the back of a Knuph spell and triggered a controlled, directional explosion at the edge of her fingertips that blew away the construct’s armor plating, then shot a small pebble into its core. The thing fell to the side, dead.

There were still many more, and Aeva and Cat couldn’t get to them fast enough. Linton created clones to hold some of the constructs still, but his creations were quickly overpowered and shattered by the unfeeling machines.

The revolutionaries were starting to break.

Imwe drifted up at the head of the army and morphed into a raven the size of a skyship with starlight wings. She let out a screeching caw and flew over the ranks, towards the spot where the Ironhearts were attacking. Linton sensed an impressive flow of magic emanating from her.

A number of the Ironhearts’ portals grew unstable, wobbling like wheels out of alignment. A pair of constructs were sucked through as one suddenly closed on them, and the others stayed clear of theirs.

Imwe’s work. She was the Goddess of Knowledge, after all.

A woman launched herself from atop a nearby roof, going straight for the goddess. She landed on Imwe’s wing, dark-clad and dark-haired, and dug a dagger into the goddess’s feathery appendage.

Imwe faltered, dipping down, and let out a great cry. Four other fighters with gleaming swords readied themselves, standing on a rooftop in Imwe’s path. Monster hunters, judging by their gleaming swords.

Linton aimed his pistol in a two-handed grip and fired several rounds in quick succession, hitting only the facade.

Imwe crashed against the ground and went into a tumble, throwing up screaming humans as she slid across the ground, the woman still hanging onto her wing. The other fighters leapt off the roof, falling towards the goddess.

Gisa reached her fallen sister and knocked the monster hunters out of the air with her own body. Two of them clung onto her arm, and she struggled to shake them off.

Linton shoved through the fleeing crowds to get to the goddesses. The monster hunters’ specialized weapons could wound them, perhaps even kill them. He couldn’t let that happen. Their aid was vital to the success of the mission.

Gisa grabbed one of the monster hunters who had grappled onto her and threw him violently against a wall, but the other managed to stick his sword in her. She screamed and tossed her head back, fiery blood spilling over her chest. The two at her feet positioned themselves to cut her ankles.

Linton opened fire at the monster hunters on the ground, catching one in the leg. The woman sank down on one knee, and Linton conjured a clone that sprang forward and decked her in the face, causing her to sprawl onto her back, then throttled her as soon as she hit the ground.

The monster hunter Gisa had thrown off was starting to get back up, using his sword as a support. Linton put a bullet in his head.

Imwe reared back and threw off her attacker before morphing back into a human. She withdrew the dagger from her milky-white flesh and the wound quickly sealed.

The female warrior stood, dusting herself off with a few nonchalant flicks. Tight, form-fitting garb, legs thick with muscle, medium-length black hair in a straight bob.

Linton recognized her.

Mesa Mara, Archon of Special Intelligence.

Cat came out of nowhere, smashing into another monster hunter and shouldering him onto his back. He swung his sword, but a quick detonation from Cat’s forefinger sent the blade spinning out of his hand, sinking into the asphalt not far off. She put a finger gun to his forehead and pretended to pull the trigger, causing his head to explode into a thousand gory fragments.

Mara absconded with the last of the monster hunters, disappearing down an intersecting alleyway while the fire goddess sank to the ground from her injury, a deep, jagged cut in her chest. Imwe was quickly at her side, and two priests willingly offered themselves as sacrifices for the healing ritual.

Linton looked around and saw Aeva still fighting the Ironhearts, struggling to keep up with their rapid teleportation now that their portals were no longer being interfered with.

“Frost, help Aeva however you can,” he said. “Cat, come with me. We’re on Mara duty. We’re not going to get a better opportunity to take her down.”