A massive shockwave rolled over, bulldozing past them, pushing the Denerik to the ground. Worse, he couldn't move at all. The armor felt heavy, as if trapped under a ton of lead, in mollasses. There was utter silence, even the moaning man was quiet.
"Careful." Aldy croaked, his voice cracked and distorted.
Denerik exerted all his strength, turning himself to face his comrades. It was enough to be able to see the mess behind him. Miriam and Aldy were on the ground as well, struggling, almost in a sitting position now. Too bad that they had daggers pointed at their throats.
The woman, Electra, and the man, Polig, seemed unaffected by the blast. Rather, they seemed rejuvenated. And sane. Gone was the manic fury and fear, replaced by the threat of pain and calculating gaze of a predator. As Aldy made to move, the man pushed his dagger through his shoulder.
"Stay down, wretch."
"Stay your hand, Polig, the Lord is merciful..." The woman swayed rhythmically as she spoke, "Stay on ground, we do not want to hurt you."
"We should make an example of this one, priestess."
"Polig! Do not let the vengeful ghosts stray you.. we have a role to play.."
While the pair talked, Denerik looked to Miriam. Why hadn't she sent them instructions? They had the advantage that the sigils provided - not having to talk out loud while planning would be great. It's possible she was still dazed. He attempted to gesture towards his own wrist with his head, hoping she would understand.
She did. She shook her head a little, dejected. He soon learned for himself. Trying to will a mana bolt to existence, he felt his mana go in, and get stuck. As he any mana he put out was pilfered away, without taking form. Nor could he access any other feature - their sigils had stopped working.
Aldy started laughing, "It's the hub, isn't it?"
"Quiet, patrician scum." The man loomed over the boy, dagger ready to stab again.
"Pay attention, Polig."
The woman said, heading over to the man and uncuffing him. She had been examining all of Miriam's belongings while Denerik inconsequentially repeated the exercises from the practicum. The bags of holding had come undone, their content spilling out, the fabric torn in places. One the floor lay the food and souveneirs. And their backup weapons.
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"We are screwed...", he mumbled.
"Quite poignant, dear noble. Here..."
With that, the boy was the first to be handcuffed. The raging river of mana within him, aggravated by the blast, slowed to a crawl, so much that he felt dizzy as if the blood head stopped flowing. Soon, the other two were cuffed as well. Then, as if unsatisfied, the woman refashioned the torn bags into shrouds and covered their faces.
"Why are you doing this? The Academy will not forgive you..." Miriam asked, a note of anger in her panicked voice.
The man spat.
"Shut up, whore... Be glad we don't kill you..."
"Polig, be a dear and fetch a cart." the woman spoke, "You three. No more from you. Polig is right, we won't kill you, but that could change. Do not test me. Lord has numerous ways to recondition its recalcitrant patricians."
Soon, Denerik was lifted off the ground and plonked onto a wooden plank. A couple more thunks, and then they started rolling.
"What do we do?" Denerik whispered, hoping the noise would hide their sounds. He very much didn't want to be skewered by that madman.
"What can we even do? I'm trapped in this armor." Miriam replied.
Indeed, the metal had become too heavy.
"We have been set up. Atleast we won't die, I think." Aldy spoke, a little too loud, earning him a rebuke.
"Stop blabbering or I might just kill ya, runt."
The cart rolled on, but the silence only deepend. They should have been in the populated section of the bazaar by now. After years and years, Denerik recently found himself repeating an activity, ever since Comm's admission to the Academy, a habit he thought lost to the past -
"Bathe me in your dire fury, oh Ruler of Flames. In your embrace shall I be rid of the shadows and see thy glory..."