Releasing a slow breath, Pax pressed one eye against the rough wood of the old barrels in front of him. His fellow Viper, Tomis crouched next to him, having squeezed himself into the small space and pressed his face to a break between neighboring barrels. Together, they watched the festive atmosphere play out in the huge open space of the city’s central square, towered over by Thanhil’s inner keep to the left.

Pax clenched his jaw, fighting back his fury at watching the cream of the city’s family celebrating while his best friend rotted in prison, a captured shirker to be forcibly awakened tomorrow. Malnourished and often sick, street rats didn’t always survive the Awakening. With no coin or advocates, even if Amil survived the process, he’d still be sold off to the highest bidder, regardless of what class he got.

Pax knew he and Tomis risked the same fate, if they were caught. It made more worry stab through him. By risking capture, he put the future of all his Vipers in danger. But he had to at least try to save Amil.

So Pax stewed, watching the wealthy, out in force, proudly displaying their children, oblivious to the plights of those beneath them. Dressed in extravagant candidate robes, many of the pampered children looked giddy about tomorrow’s prospects.

Pax caught an occasional teen wearing a sullen expression, despite a well-fed face and wearing clothing that would feed Pax’s entire crew for months. The adults were deep in conversations finalizing agreements that would give their children the best start to their new lives. So much different than the fate of captured street rats.

Titus. Pax forced the old pain back down. His older brother had been caught in the final hunt just before an Awakening years ago, and no one had seen him again. Pax had been hopeful for months, examining every laborer or grunt among the crafters, warriors and merchants. But Titus was gone. Disappeared. Like his parents.

Pax forced his attention back to the square. He had to worry about his crew, his Vipers, right now. The wealthy continued their party, oblivious. Even the backdrop to the party screamed luxury. All the statues in the central fountain had been powered in an extravagant display of water magic. The street lamps glowed with expensive flame cores instead of the more mundane oil and wicks used on normal days.

Everywhere he looked, men, women and children were dressed in bright colors and expensive fabrics, full of smiles and a celebratory abandon that he couldn’t remember ever feeling, even when his hardworking parents had been alive.

Food vendors called out, holding savory treats high and doing a brisk business. The smell of spicy kabobs and freshly baked buns made Pax’s mouth water, and he wished the guard patrols would lighten up enough for him to scrounge through the alleys for leftovers later.

He forced himself to look past the happy throngs to the large stage that they assembled for the Awakening. The huge and sturdy structure had been erected in an open area just past the stone steps leading up to the courthouse and city offices.

Busy laborers swarmed on and around the brightly-lit stage with vague tool-shaped shadows in their hands. A handful of figures called out directions, hands pointing and gesticulating, likely crafters assigned to oversee and speed up the work with their skills. The stage itself was large enough to fit a few houses on the polished wooden expanse. A vast canopy covered the whole thing, protecting everything that had been set up for the ceremony tomorrow.

“Look to the far left,” Tomis whispered. “I told you. That’s where the governor will speak tomorrow.”

Pax scanned the stage, quickly finding the podium of gleaming ironwood standing at one edge. According to Tomis, the governor would use a far-speaking device to announce the results for each youth as the mages awakened them.

Pax gave his friend an acknowledging look. Tomis was a large boy, the mix of dwarf in his heritage obvious in the stout features of his developing man’s growth. His chest had filled out while his feet and legs became clumsy and difficult to manage. A rumpled mop of sandy hair flopped over eyes that were often patient and kind when he’d be better served by being harder.

A lifetime of his father’s censure had left Tomis frequently looking down, shoulders hunched, as if expecting a blow. At least his brute of a father had taken him to observe a handful of Awakenings, unlike the rats, who always hid from the bounty hunters. And with tonight’s emergency bringing them out of hiding, Tomis’ knowledge was critical.

A swell in sound drew Pax’s attention back to the square. At the center of the large stage stood an extravagant, circular pedestal with ornately carved patterns and gilded accents with just enough room for a single person to stand on. Lit brightly, it stood empty but made Pax shiver as he imagined Amil in chains standing there tomorrow.

The workers had placed four ornately carved chairs equidistant from the pedestal, at each of the four corners of the compass. They looked like thrones. Crafters had carved and painted intricate depictions of the four elements in such detail that some almost looked alive, even from a distance.

Seats of honor for the visiting mages from the capital.

The mages whose magic changed lives, forged children into adults, and began one’s service to the community. At least if you weren’t a street rat or a shirker. Most of the rats Pax knew would rather starve, alive and free.

Though, for a brief flash, Pax couldn’t help wondering what it would be like. A full menu. Completely unlocked instead of the bare juvenile version he had. The possibility of crafting, merchant and martial skills or even the rare ability to use magic had some appeal. The street posters promised good masters and a better life for shirkers who awakened to those classes. No one mentioned the all-too-common laborer class.

Pax swiped in irritation as his thoughts triggered his crippled menu.

***

Name: Pax Truesworn

Race: Mixed Human (monster-touched)

Age: 16

Bound Location: Locked

Class: Locked

Level: Locked

Health: Locked

Mana: Locked

Attributes: Locked

Skills/Abilities/Spells: Locked

Inventory: 1/10 available. Restricted to 10 time-delayed slots

Assignments: Locked

Misc.: Locked

***

He frowned. Even his internal inventory was pretty useless. Unawakened children had a thirty-second time delay on placing and removing items from their inventory. This made it impractical to summon or switch weapons during a fight or to stash stolen items fast enough while pickpocketing. Other than a ring his mother had given him and a medallion from his brother, he had nothing much of value. His coin count was barely above zero either, just a handful of copper, barely more than half a silver.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

***

Coin Count: 0 Gold, 0 Silver, 52 copper

***

Annoyed, Pax mentally swiped the display away and looked across the square again.

A flash of movement toward the back of the stage caught his eye, and he pushed aside any flights of fancy about the Awakening. Reality was entirely different from daydreams, as anyone living on the streets knew well.

“It’s them,” Tomis whispered under his breath. He gave Pax’s shoulder a soft nudge.

Pax squinted, looking.

A ripple of excitement traveled through the crowd as hands pointed and heads leaned in to whisper to neighbors.

And then he saw them. A group of four people ascended the steps to the stage. The workers parted for them, altering their busy paths like a river did around imposing rocks.

Pax felt a fierce grin split his face as he turned to the large mixed-dwarven boy with approval. He leaned close to Tomis’ ear. “You were right,” Pax said, barely moving his lips. “They did come tonight. To prepare.”

Tomis grinned at the praise and leaned in close, too. “Don’t worry, First. It’ll be a cinch to follow them back to their inn. We won’t lose them.”

Pax nodded before turning back. Their plan wasn’t anything fancy. They couldn’t get Amil out of a guarded prison, and the ceremony tomorrow was too dangerous to approach. That left one option.

Tonight, they would follow the mages and figure out where they were staying, so they could intercept Amil during the transfer. Their powerful magic had discouraged idle gossip, and their inn was somewhere in the wealthy quarter where details were hard to come by. But if they could find a good lookout nearby, they might be able to break out Amil in the distraction of the mages joining up with the candidates.

Pax narrowed his gaze, trying to make out details of the four figures that probably had enough power between them to take on an entire regiment of soldiers, not to mention probably all of the city’s wall mages combined. These were capital mages, one of each element, with the power to combine their magics and permanently awaken the youth of the Astan Empire’s cities.

From a distance, their arm markings didn’t look to be much more than colorful scrawls. But their clothing made them stand out like nobility among dowdy peasants. Glistening in the light of the stage, their rich fabric announced their magical elements to everyone.

As the flame mage moved to his chair, he shimmered like a six-foot bonfire. The air mage, with the tall willowy shape of an elf, wore a wispy outfit and didn’t even touch the floor as she flitted to hers.

Pax could almost hear the sound of water as the blue water mage flowed with an uncanny grace to settle into her chair.

The earth mage was the only one who could be called unattractive. He moved with the grace of a tumbling boulder, a solid and relatively tall dwarf. His weight and strength made his chair strain to hold him when he sank into it.

Even from where he hid, the hair on the back of Pax’s neck rose, an instinctive warning of danger. He could evade the guardsmen and, given enough luck, break free from one. Sure, members of the guard had leveled skills, but Pax and his Vipers had long practice countering them.

But a mage? With elemental spells? Pax was under no illusions that if the city really wanted to root out the homeless, a handful of mages could accomplish it much more effectively than the guard or even the soldiers.

Thankfully, the ever-increasing monster hordes kept both mages and warriors too occupied on the city walls to bother themselves too much with inner city business.

Except once a year. At the Awakening. When every class needed more bodies for their ranks and fought over numbers. Every new recruit was valuable, whether a willing citizen or one of the coerced shirkers who survived the process.

Pax pursed his lips, anger at the injustice swelling inside him. He’d never submit and swore to make sure none of his Vipers did either.

“They’re moving,” Tomis whispered in his ear.

Pax focused on the stage. After adjusting controls on their complex chairs, the mages had stood and were now moving together again.

Around the square, the crowds had grown, and Pax realized they would have a harder time slipping away without attracting notice.

“Quick,” Pax hissed. “No running. We’re strolling this time. Look natural and stay close. To the alley and then to the back of the buildings on the far side of the square. We need to get there in time to follow them.”

Tomis nodded without speaking and pulled his legs in to let Pax clamber over him.

After checking both directions to find no one paying the area close attention, Pax slipped one hand out, palm raised in question toward the alley where Jules, their lookout, should be able to see it and give them a response.

No response. The shadowed opening stood still and empty.

Impatience swelled, but Pax kept his hand steady. Small, quick motions would catch the eye, which was the last thing he wanted.

Come on, Jules, Pax silently urged the young girl to pay attention and respond. The mages would be clambering down from the stage by now.

Then a small grimy fist appeared from the shadows of the alley, close to the ground and hard to see.

Safe! The triumphant thought filled Pax just as he’d started to worry Jules would give them the open-handed stop sign for danger, or no sign at all.

But Jules was safe, and the alley was, too.

Time to look like an average kid trying to get a glimpse of the festivities. Pax stood slowly as if he’d just been fixing his shoe and took a step toward the alley.

Tomis stood behind him. Or tried to. His legs must have gone numb from the cramped position. With a stifled cry, he stumbled and landed hard on hands and knees before Pax could catch him. His face twisted in sudden pain, but he, thankfully, bit back another cry.

“Relax,” Pax whispered as he leaned down and pulled Tomis to his feet. “I’ve got you.”

“Do your parents know you’re out here drinking?” a thin and reedy voice demanded from behind them.

Pax controlled his flinch and quickly ducked his head, looking as penitent as possible before he turned.

An older lady dressed in multiple layers, including a pretentious hat with too many feathers flickering in the lamp light, glared at them with disapproval. A younger man supported her elbow and made an impatient noise, his eyes flicking back toward the festivities.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Pax said. “We’re heading home now.”

She sniffed, eyes narrowing. “Perhaps we should take your names to make sure your parents hear of your behavior.”

“Mother!” the man snapped, pulling on her arm and barely giving the two street rats a glance.

Pax snuck a few steps toward the alley when the woman turned to swat at the man, but froze when she whirled back toward them, mouth turned down in a frown.

“Wait,” she demanded until her eyes drifted down to the arm Pax had wrapped around Tomis’ waist. The position had pulled his sleeve up, exposing his left forearm.

Her eyes widened and she choked off the words she’d been about to say. Pax watched her mouth the two words that had haunted him his whole life. Monster-touched. Instead of the usual disgust, though, a just-as-unwelcome sympathy made her eyes soften.

Pax barely managed to control his expression and pulled his sleeve back into place before she could say anything. He turned his back and pulled Tomis toward the safety of the alley, shoulders tense expecting her to try to stop them.

But she didn’t.

And when he shot a glance back, he only saw the woman aiming a look over her shoulder as the man pulled her into the crowd.

Pax hurried into the cool shadows with relief. Beside him, Tomis straightened and blew out a happy breath.

Impatient now, Pax motioned for Tomis to hurry as he strode along the wall scanning the alley for Jules. Where was she?

The new knot of worry loosened when he spotted her dirt-streaked face peek out from behind a pile of construction refuse.

He was already striding toward her when a sense of unease warned him something wasn’t right. She stood stiff and tense instead of returning his smile. And was that remorse in her eyes?

Too late, he spun, mouth open to warn Tomis.

“Two more for the pot, right, Jonson?” A guard had stepped into the opening of the alley behind them, his nightstick out and ready. He was tall and lithe, with hard, active eyes full of experience that told Pax he’d be hard to dodge past. He likely had a high-level capture skill. “I knew this alley was too quiet tonight.”

Pax reacted instantly, spinning to race back into the alley, his shoes slipping and scrambling. But a second guard stepped out from behind Jules, clamping one hand down on her shoulder while raising the other, fist clenched, to her head. Pax’s step stuttered, and he froze in place.

The new guard didn’t look much older than Pax. His guard blues were unfaded with still-new creases, the silver piping flashing in the alley’s shadows. But he stood a head taller than Pax, and his broad weight was proof of a much better diet.

“Right, sir,” the burly youth said, a cruel smile of anticipation lighting his face as he stepped farther out, dragging Jules’ slight form with him. “I need to level up my Punch and Grip tonight.”

“Don’t just blab your abilities to the rats like that, Jonson!” snapped the older guard. “They can’t use Identify yet.”

Jonson’s face flushed for a moment before he glared at Pax and Tomis and gave Jules a shake that made her whimper.

Tomis shot Pax a helpless look, his eyes begging for direction.

“Listen up,” snapped Jonson. “You two are going to hold still while Guardsman Spalder restrains you. Otherwise, we’ll have to force you to comply. And it’s going to hurt. A lot. Starting with this one here.” He hefted Jules until her feet left the ground with an ease that suggested he’d already put points into Strength and leveled his Grip, a favorite path of brawler-focused guardsmen.

Pax hesitated. The eager look in Jonson’s eyes made his stomach twist. He caught Jules' desperate gaze, and the girl’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she mouthed the word, Sorry.

Pax didn’t want to imagine what they’d threatened her with to get her to betray them. Not that he blamed her.

The number one rule on the streets was survival.

And he was failing miserably tonight.