Toren Daen
I was far more cautious as I traversed North Fiachra. I made an active effort to restrain my presence, knowing that I was in the midst of mages far beyond my power level now.
North Fiachra had several subdivisions which were easy to note. A commercial section catering to high-class customers, more general political offices and buildings, and finally a residential area, which was by far the largest.
The map I had nabbed from the West Fiachra Supervisory Center showed the delineations of these subdistricts clearly. The residential area took up most of the land: not because of the number of buildings, but because of the open space. Instead of the familiar ordered and rigid waterways of the rest of the city, I saw plenty of public parks with more natural meandering streams. Copses of trees dotted the slightly hilly stretch.
It's like a slice of the countryside transplanted into the middle of the city, I noted with appreciation, watching from the roof of a shop. The wonders magic can do.
I dropped to the ground silently, my cloak fluttering behind me. Watching the street names, I finally found the one I was looking for: South Sovereign Boulevard.
It was a long road through some light trees. The path was cobbled, clearly designed for carriage travel. It was lined with lampposts, though they were powered by mana instead of electricity.
Sticking to what I knew, I kept to the spattering of trees around the road. As I darted along the trees, I noted several gates to nearby estates. On each and every gate, a crest was etched that I assumed marked the Blood that lived there. Having not yet seen Blood Joan's ember-like symbol, I continued to search.
The estates I could spy on in this section were opulent things for a style of living far beyond anything I had experienced in either of my lives. The scenery itself would be worth a fortune, not to mention being constructed with what were no doubt expensive building materials.
Finally, I reached a gate with the icon I was looking for: a stylized ember overlaying twisting rivers. I crouched on a branch as I inspected the place, snarling under my mask. My breath misted in the chill night air.
I looked past the gate, eying the building beyond. It was significantly smaller than many of the other estates, but clearly what I was looking for. It had a small courtyard with a miniature fountain at the center. The yard was rimmed with trees that had lost their leaves as autumn neared its end. This allowed me to spy through to a slight degree, noting the distinct features of the estate.
Tonight was a scouting mission only. I didn't plan on doing anything more than observing the Joan estate: noting the windows, doors, and layout of the place. I didn't think I would be able to do anything any time soon, but having this knowledge in the back of my pocket was important for future planning.
So it was quite a surprise to me when one of the windows on the second floor blew outward in a nimbus of fire, sending shards of glass flying and a billow of smoke into the night air. I went taught like a bowstring in surprise, just about ready to bolt in the other direction. If there was something going on in that building to draw attention, I did not want to be nearby.
But then I spotted two dark shapes burst from the conflagration, trailing smoke as they ran over the earth towards the side of the courtyard. Barely a second later, five more figures burst from the fire in hot pursuit. I saw and felt the spells being fired off at the fleeing duo: a few bolts of fire, spears of ice, and blades of wind. The escapees barely managed to avoid the volley, one of them deflecting a sliver of ice with a clang audible to my enhanced ears. Then they both vaulted over the fence into a bit of the forest, hightailing it out, their pursuers hot on their tail. I looked back at the estate and the commotion it would no doubt cause.
People would be swarming the area soon, meaning my scouting time was done. But another opportunity presented itself in its place. I considered it, warring with myself internally.
I bit out a curse, then moved to follow.
Naereni
I darted through the small forest, cursing at myself for the dozenth time. I weaved out of the way of a tree, shifting in front of it to block our enemy's line of fire. Hofal was close behind, moving as fast as he could. Every so often he would conjure a small block of earth with his crest to deflect the spells being sent our way, but they didn't stand up long. Sparing a glance back, I could count five on our tail.
Damn. And we had been doing so well, too. The target was in our grasp, but something had gone wrong. I didn't know what or how, yet. I had barely finished decoding the mana lock on the safe before someone rang the alarm. As far as I knew, neither Hofal nor I had done anything to give ourselves away or expose our position
Were they expecting us?
One of Joans' lackeys conjured a sheet of ice that stretched across the forest, almost causing me to lose my balance, but my crest granted me the reflexes to even out fast enough. Unfortunately, that cost me a valuable few seconds.
Hofal deflected an errant burst of fire behind me with his buckler, the force pushing him in line with me. He was huffing lightly from exertion, barely visible dampness around his mask highlighting his tired state. It wasn't from normal physical fatigue, I knew: he was focusing more on his physical enhancement mark than he usually did, fighting to keep up with me. My own runes revolved around speed; his on durability. For him to match me in our escape was a significant effort.
I would apologize to him later if we got out of this alive.
I conjured a small blade of ice in my hand, mist wafting off of it as it formed. I threw it behind me, imbuing more mana into the spell to increase its effectiveness.
I spared another look behind me, annoyance taking hold as I watched the group's shield summon a wall of ice to deflect my own frozen construct. It stalled our opponents for a split-second, though, just as Hofal and I burst through the treeline.
"Escape route C," I said to the older man running by my side. Hofal nodded in understanding: we had planned this heist for months. Escape routes in case it went wrong were a given.
I just hoped we would get there in time.
"On your left!" Hofal cried, his voice scratchy and hoarse. I barely ducked a spinning razor of wind, gritting my teeth as it ruffled my hood.
As we entered more exposed space, Hofal was forced to defend us from another volley of spells. Doing my best to help, I summoned a larger shield of ice instead, tossing it to my partner. He used it to better effect than I ever could, angling it just right to parry incoming spells. Then he threw it, making one of our pursuers–a very angry looking young woman who threw fireballs–nearly trip.
Hofal was visibly more tired once we reached the first set of buildings, and I was beginning to feel a bit of the drain as well. I had used a decent bit of mana just pushing my body strengthening to escape already.
We ducked into a more narrow alleyway, barely avoiding a scythe of wind as it flew over our heads. Now that we were in a closed space, Hofal whirled around, his larger body settling into a wide stance. I felt the mana around him twist and whirl, then solidify as a wall of thick earth erupted in front of us a second later, putting a solid barrier of stone ten feet tall between us and our pursuers.
"That won't hold them for long," he said, huffing slightly. "Come on, we can't stop!"
"I know," I said, continuing to run. I spied my target quickly: one of the larger tributaries of the canals that stretched through all of Fiachra. Concentrating, I summoned large plates of ice in my hands. Instead of turning away from the water, Hofal and I continued to bolt toward it.
I jumped toward the water, summoning small discs of ice under my feet to catch me. I dropped the plates I summoned into the water as I ran. Hofal hopped from plate to plate, our crossing painfully slow. My crest enhanced my sense of balance enough to dart across, but I couldn't leave Hofal behind.
Come on, come on, I thought through gritted teeth. So close!
My thoughts were interrupted by a loud boom from behind us and the sound of crumbling rock. I turned around, watching in dismay as the five mages burst from the alleyway. Hofal and I just barely made it across the water before I felt one of the mages start casting something.
My eyes widened as ice began to spread across the water in a sheen, providing the mages a far easier crossing. Hofal and I resumed our run, but the gap began to close once more. I took a hard left into an alley, leading my partner and me into it.
We were met with a dead end.
I slowly turned around, grim determination in my gut. The five mages finally slowed around the mouth of the alley, stalking towards us like a cat towards a trapped rat. The scene was almost ruined by the heavy breathing of the shield who had cast the ice spell, clearly worn from his last spell.
That didn't make our situation any less serious.
One of our pursuers stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. He was a big man with a few scars across his arms, and a sword was on his hip. I couldn't remember him throwing any spells as he chased us. A striker, then?
"You should've kept your paws off Blood Joan's stuff," the man said with a smirk. He slowly drew his sword, flourishing it. "But because you mongrels didn't, the Rats will die here today."
Hofal stepped in front of me protectively, holding his buckler defensively and drawing his axe. I conjured a dagger out of ice, holding it in the stance Karsien had drilled into me. With my other hand, I fiddled with the slot near the back of my belt.
"Half a dozen Bloods have failed to touch us," I said with confidence, not betraying my unease. "Joan is no different. Even if we failed tonight, we will succeed another."
The man snorted, then waved his hand. "I'm going to enjoy killing you. You Vritra-damned slum rats will die under my blade. You've avoided your due for far too long." His team members began to move into formation.
I clenched my hand around the sphere in my pack. Any second now…
I had barely a second to register the sound of cracking brick before the formation of our enemies was suddenly interrupted by a dark blur slamming into their rearguard from above.
I watched, stunned, as the shield that had caused us so much trouble with his ice slammed into the ground painfully, then bounced a few feet from the impact. A figure clad in black, a wicked metal mask and a hooded cloak covering their features, skidded to a stop several feet from the shield. He clutched a dagger in his right hand, the knuckle guard dripping blood from the recent blow.
He shifted in his stance, holding his blade in front of him aggressively. "Blood Joan will not be killing anybody," a deep, distorted sound echoed out, sending shivers down my spine. Some kind of sound magic was distorting the voice, complimented perfectly by the dark attire and ominous metal mask. Several spheres of fire appeared around the phantom, casting the alleyway in a deep orange glow. "Not if I can stop it."
The alleyway was tense like a bowstring, the surprise entrance stunning all there into silence and confusion.
The first to move was Hofal, lunging forward with his axe in a cry. He swung it down fast at the striker who wielded a sword, causing him to hastily deflect the blow.
And just like that, the alley erupted in a storm of magic.
Toren Daen
I finally intervened when it looked like the two runners–who had identical masks designed like the face of a rat–seemed to be cornered. From what I could tell, these 'Rats'--I couldn't tell if that was their actual name or an insult–had been harrying local Bloods, with Joan being the most recent target. The young woman had claimed their group would 'succeed' later. Whatever that meant, it would be nothing good for Blood Joan.
I had aimed for the shield of the group, who was clearly already worn out from freezing a moving river for the party to cross. Then, using a burst of telekinesis to accelerate my fall from the roof I had been observing from, I clocked the man in the chest with the knuckles of my dagger. I felt his mana barrier shatter and the metal creasing my fist impact the man's sternum.
I restrained my blow enough so I didn't punch a hole through his ribs, but I wouldn't be surprised if his mana core was damaged.
I almost pitied the man. I knew what it felt like to get slammed in the chest by something you couldn't see, shattering your bones.
But he was with the Joans.
"Blood Joan will not be killing anybody," I snarled, shifting the tone of my voice several steps sideways and into something that sounded inhuman. I concentrated on my magic, summoning a few fireballs around my head. I held my dagger in a reverse grip near my opposite ear. "Not if I can stop it."
The first to actually capitalize on my opening was the larger Rat with the axe and buckler. He charged the sword-wielder with a cry of fury, but I had my own problems to worry about.
The alleyway burst into action as two of the Joan men turned to face me. One drew a wicked-looking longsword from his side, a snarl on his face under a scraggly beard. The other was a shorter woman with a wand, already channeling mana to whatever spellforms she had.
Not willing to give her the time, I sent my fireballs rocketing toward the caster in the rear. The striker with the sword tried to deflect as many as he could, swinging his blade in the narrow alleyway to dismiss my magic. The caster had to shift out of the way as one of the fireballs impacted the ground right next to her.
The caster nearly finished her spell, but I was already in front of the striker with a burst of telekinesis. I brought my dagger in a sideways cut, coursing mana through the blade to enhance its edge and durability. The striker barely managed to bring his sword around to block, the resounding clang of metal reverberating up my arm. Before the man could retaliate, I coalesced a shroud of whirring sound around my left fist, swinging it in a hook aimed at his exposed side.
Instead, an arc of wind curved around the striker, almost striking me in the temple. I had to awkwardly readjust my attack to bat away the wind, leaving me open to a downward chop from the recovered striker.
I pushed off the striker in a flare of white telekinesis, blowing us both away with the force. I almost toppled over as I skidded back, but my opponent managed to keep his footing just barely. As he stumbled back, however, he knocked over the caster.
Thinking quickly, I concentrated a grenade of sound into my hand. It shimmered like oil in the darkness, the light warped as it passed through. I threw the spell, then immediately jumped forward diagonally, aiming for the wall.
Predictably, the striker tried to bat my spell away with his sword, something that was no doubt instinctual by that point. Instead, I closed my hand, commanding the spell remotely to detonate. It burst outward with a sound like a mallet striking a gong. I winced even with my strengthened ears, but the immediate radius of the blast was far louder than anywhere nearby.
I hit the wall feet first, then rocketed in another jump to slide to a halt behind the disoriented duo. Spinning, I thrust a hand into my pouch, withdrawing a handful of rocks. Using my momentum, I threw the rocks with a burst of focused telekinesis.
They shot off with the force of a shotgun blast, peppering the addled striker with a hail of stones. Tiny holes ripped open across his upper body, leaking small rivulets of blood. He stumbled back, yelling in pain as he tried to turn to face me.
I rushed forward, fire coalescing around my fist. A burst of wind shot haphazardly from the caster, who was vomiting on the ground. I switched the grip on my dagger, then cut the spell in half with slight resistance. It wasn't nearly as powerful as it had been before, no doubt due to the woman's disorientation.
I blurred past, looking the striker in the eyes just as he turned to face me. His expression was a rictus of pain and fear, one I relished as I drove my flame-clad fist into his gut.
He doubled over, then collapsed onto the stone ground. I turned to the caster, who shivered as she tried to stand. I kicked her hard in the sternum, the tried and true method of rattling the mana core. She vomited once more before passing out.
The other side of the battle was wrapping up as well in favor of the 'Rats.' Both of the escapees were still fighting, and the only one still standing against them was the tall man with scars on his arms. I considered intervening to help, but the idea was cut short as the young woman who had spoken before slid low behind the man, slashing at his heels with daggers of ice as he tried to fend off the axe-wielder.
He predictably buckled, howling in pain. He didn't even have time to do that for long before the axe-wielder used the rim of his buckler to cave in his nose. The sword-wielder crumpled.
I realized with a start that I was breathing rapidly, the adrenaline from my first fight running high. Forcefully composing myself, I sheathed my dagger and stared at the mages across from me.
They both had masquerade masks designed to look like the snouts of rats, something that should be an insult to fashion. Somehow the duo pulled it off, even if they had small bleeding cuts here and there and were panting as hard as I had been.
They watched me warily, not sheathing their weapons.
Then the woman spoke up. "Thank you for your help," she said, a resolute timbre to her voice. "That certainly would've been harrowing without your aid. The brutes these Bloods call upon have been getting more and more feisty as we nip at their heels." She bowed with a light flourish. "I am called the Young Rat," she said.
I realized after a second that she was subtly asking for my own title. I had to think quickly. "I call myself Dusk," I replied, distorting my voice with sound magic. It wasn't as alien and strange as during my entrance, however. I looked over the bodies that were all now knocked unconscious. "Is your group targeting Blood Joan?" I asked, the thought causing hope to rise in my chest.
The man with the axe and shield had sheathed his weapons and was patting down the lead striker, searching his pockets and pouches. The woman continued to watch me, her posture shifting subtly. "We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Dusk. We are called the Rats," she said. "We endeavor to liberate poor, defenseless coins from greedy masters."
Thieves, then? I tilted my head, looking them over once more. Did they fail to rob the Joans? "You're awfully honest about being a thief," I said, looking at the unconscious mages around us.
"Oh, we wouldn't call ourselves thieves, " she said dismissively. "Money needs to be reinvested into the economy for it to work at all. That people hoard their wealth is against the spirit of a free market!" The axe-wielder began sifting through the pockets of their defeated foe. I frowned under my mask but didn't comment. "Really, we should be paid for the service we provide."
The axe-wielder slipped a ring he had found in the striker's pocket onto his finger, then after a moment handed it to the Young Rat. She put it on, a slightly distant look in her eyes.
Then she took it off, looking me up and down. "But I have a question for you, dear Dusk. Do you wanna be a complication for the Joans?" she asked inquisitively, a conspiratorial glint flashing in her eyes behind her mask.
I didn't answer.
She smirked, seeing straight through my reluctance to reply. She held out her hand and a small tablet of ice began to shiver into existence above her palm. Then, it flashed with mana, appearing to be sucked into the ring. With a flourish, the Young Rat flipped the ring to me through the air. I caught it, glad that my mask veiled my surprise. "That's got some good info. Think of it as thanks for taking out those goons, Dusk."
It was clearly a spatial storage ring of some sort. The ring was a boon beyond anything I had acquired thus far, and I had to fight to keep my heart rate from rising. This was worth more than everything I had bought so far combined.
I pocketed the ring after a moment, not willing to check it yet. "Thank you," I replied earnestly. The Young Rat nodded with a smile.
Then I pushed off the ground into the air, wall-jumping a few times to get to the roofs before vanishing into the night, the wry smile of the Young Rat the last thing I saw.