Fire Fight

Martel had been right about the duke's intentions, but wrong about the method. A fire would leave the Khivans homeless and forced to leave while clearing the ground for development.

So far, the flames had only touched one building, but since most of them were built from wood, it would quickly spread. Already, people poured onto the street, some sobbing or shouting for the fire patrol, others grabbing buckets and rushing to the fountain on the temple square.

A group of five or six people did neither of those things, instead running away from the fire, straight in the direction of the carriage and its passengers. In the flickering light of the flames, Martel could tell their clothes looked Asterian.

Without words exchanged, he and Maximilian jumped down from the driver's seat to approach the fleeing band. As they came closer, it became clear they were in a hurry to leave the district.

Maximilian drew his dagger. "Where are you running to?"

The men stopped, exchanging looks. They all carried small weapons similar to the nobleman, and in Martel's experienced eyes, they looked like a gang of thugs. "There is a fire," one of them replied. "Excuse us for getting to safety."

"You could help," Maximilian suggested with a grim expression. "Then again, if you started this fire, I suppose you have little interest seeing it extinguished." He raised his weapon with a challenging gesture while Martel took a few steps back, giving himself some distance to work with.

The thugs drew their own daggers and short swords. They fell upon Maximilian, and Martel saw a blue shimmer of magic as the mageknight raised his shield. One of them moved around to attack from the side, and Martel hurled a fire bolt at the man, who swiftly ducked.

"They got bloody magic!"

He launched himself at Martel while another thug came running as well to attack the novice. With Maximilian fending off four attackers, he could not hope for aid.

The first man stabbed at Martel, who raised his shield in time to take the blow. A blast of air pushed his assailant backwards to the ground. Pivoting, Martel shot another fire bolt at his second adversary, and this time it hit. The man dropped his blade to slap the flames on his stomach.

One opponent occupied, Martel turned back to the first thug, who had gotten on his feet again. He made another strike with his long dagger, but this time, Martel expected the movement. Empowering his body, he swiftly dodged and shot up one hand to grab his enemy by the wrist, using superior strength to wrest the weapon away. He followed up with a swift kick to the groin, releasing his hold as the brigand crumbled to the ground.

A quick glance told Martel two things. First, Khivans had appeared from the surrounding buildings, watching the fight with mixed expressions. Second, Maximilian was under pressure. A mageknight's magic provided offensive and defensive capabilities, but both were meant to be used in conjunction with good armour and proper weaponry. His magical shield kept him safe, but also bound up all his spellcasting, preventing him from using his magic offensively. And the short reach of his dagger did not provide much opportunity to attack when he was threatened from nearly all sides.

But if Maximilian could only hold on while Martel dispatched his own attackers, he could turn his array of offensive spells against the remaining thugs as well, whittling them down one by one. Assuming Martel had enough spellpower left – he dearly missed the magic he had expended just to escape from the duke's study.

Meanwhile, Martel's second opponent had quelled the flames in his clothes and now returned to the fray. He swung his sword at Martel, who quickly stepped backwards several paces; no need to stay within close quarters. Another bolt of fire came straight at the man, who managed to evade this time. To Martel's horror, his magic streaked past and threaten to hit the Khivan onlookers until he managed to extinguish the flame in the air.

"Arsonists! They set the fire!" somebody shouted. Whether a local resident or one of the thugs seizing the opportunity, Martel could not tell, but it had the same effect. A handful of Khivans rushed into the fight, aiming their blows at anyone who looked Asterian, making no distinction between the brigands or the mages.

Maximilian, already pressed with nothing but a dagger and doublet to protect him, was swarmed from all sides. A general brawl erupted. Afraid to use more fire, both because he might hurt the Khivans and since he might convince them he was the arsonist, Martel restricted himself to using fists. He dearly missed his staff, but his magical shield helped him make it an even fight against superior numbers. Even so, he took some unpleasant punches, and he began to despair.

"Make way for the fire patrol!" A cart came racing down the street towards the blaze, forcing the brawlers to scatter lest they got trampled. The wagon held two city guards on the driver's seat and a number of great buckets in the back. Behind, a score of other legionaries came running, some of them armed with axes.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the thugs slinked away. "They're escaping! They are the real arsonists!" Martel shouted, and the Khivans seemed indecisive who to fight. "Go after them if you want to punish the guilty!"

Martel almost broke into a pursuit himself when Maximilian grabbed him by the shoulder. "I will get them! Go, use your magic to stop the fire!"

He watched the mageknight run off. He saw what Maximilian meant; Martel was an elemental mage. There had to be something he could do, which nobody else present could. The Khivans still appeared confused, but some followed Maximilian's example while others moved in the direction of the flames. As the score of legionaries, the remainder of the fire patrol, came running past their position, Martel joined them.