Oz leaned forward, stretching with all his might, the palm on his hand touching the smooth stony road. His body was taunt like a bowstring. Seconds ticked by as he felt his muscles unwind like twine on the tied a kite. He stood up, locking eyes with Leo.
Leo’s eyes bubbled with expectation at the thought of finally being able to beat Oz in a duel.
But then, he leaned down again, smirking to himself.
Leo’s face burned hot with anger.
“Are you done stretching?!” His voice almost cracked from the strain. He was nervous. Oz had requested permission to stretch before their duel.
Leo, seeing no reason to decline, had granted it.
Now, twenty minutes later. He was still facing his opponent, the battle far from begun. The crowd was now so relaxed that they were openly sniggering at him. A small boy at the back had even pulled out a parchment with a charcoal stencil. Leo wanted to cut the damned boy’s hands off, but if he tried to do something that violent the whole crowd might turn into a lynch mob. Powerful as he was, killing a few hundred civilians would be neigh impossible — not to mention the fallout. No amount of bribery would satiate the Chancellor’s anger, if he heard that someone had slaughtered that many people under his protection… Leo might find his whole family — rather — he would be unable to find his whole family, they’d probably all be dead. Since there were going to be witness and since they were going to side with the damn beggar, he might as well play nice. Then, at least, after he was arrested his father shouldn’t have too much difficulty getting him out.
While Leo fumed and fussed like a peacock, Oz’s mind was at work. His loose white shirt clung close to his skin, underneath the weight of his blue overcoat. He straightened himself up and started gyrating his hips in smooth circles, while feeling the rough elbow patch on his empty sleeve with his only hand.
He saw Leo getting more and more irritated and more and more fearful that the guards would show up.
So far so good. Everything was going according to plan. Oz tried to recall everything he knew about the boy.
Leopold Parnassus was one of the strongest students in his year. He was younger than Oz, only about fifteen, in his second year at the School and already Understudy Grade. When he entered the Academy last year his score was extremely high, there was talks that some of the Teachers had already decided to take him as a pupil. Oz had no idea what grade he himself was (Ebenezer had never let him check, fearing he’d be discouraged), but at this point he was told that he would barely pass the tests for First Year admissions, and he was seventeen. The gap of talent… Oz rued his misfortune. He felt the rattan cane holster behind his shoulder blades, reminding himself of his martial arts. His hand clasped his cane tightly. Oz was a Wood Cultivator and Leo was a Lightning Cultivator, they both cultivated one of the weird elements. Unlike Wood though, people actually wanted to cultivate this aberrant element. Cultivating Lightning increased speed, agility, intelligence and (as a downside) capriciousness. All Lightning Cultivators had a high level of emotional instability — something he had capitalized on earlier. He didn’t have a lot of strategies to deal with someone of Leo’s calibre, and he didn’t want to use his powers and exhaust himself before the exam. He simply didn’t have the resources to fight Leo. That’s why he had never intended to fight Leo. Step one, agitate the boy. Step two, get him arrested. Easy! But there was a problem…
Where are the bloody guards? Thought Oz. His whole plan hinged on not fighting Leo, but on waiting for the guards to come and arrest him — then, step three, convince him to settle out of court which led to the very delightful step four: make money. And as a side bonus, rescue Lilywen from a whoring philanderer who a fiancée and a girl on the side — and now his sister to boot!
This damn girl better have not known about this man’s fiancée. I’ll fricking tattle on her at this rate… But then I’ll have to find a way to convince Papa I didn’t discover all this information by sneaking into his office and reading his bloody notes
This was the big trouble. Oz wasn’t worried about Ed punishing him, he was more worried Ed would hide his Intelligence Notes in a different spot. This would make life difficult for someone like him who was behind in so many other ways, he had a lot of plans… a lot of them. He needed access to those secret briefings!
Dammit all! Where are the guards? I can’t stall much longer.
Now it was Oz’s turn to be irritated. Then just as that had started to affect him, he heard a whiny voice call out.
“You coward! You call yourself a gentleman, but this is how you behave. Aren’t you ready to fight by now. Fight me now, or maybe I’ll expose your incestuous relationship!” Leo’s lip jutted out like a jilted school crush.
The crowd whispered, gobbling up the juicy gossip.
This is bloody asinine! Oz wanted to smash his head into the cobblestone. He shot back “Do you call yourself a gentleman? Mr. I have a fiancée, a side-chick and another girl? ” Oz shot back.
The crowd grew hushed at the salaciousness of the conversation. Leo, for his part, turned positively purple with anger.
Leo’s eyes narrowed, “How do you know about my fiancée? That’s a secret!”
“Oh piss off, who hasn’t heard of you and your philandering. I’ve never met you before today, you crazy man!”
“How dare you speak to me like that? You call yourself a gentleman!”
“And I call you an adulterer, you’ll get what’s coming to you, just wait patiently.”
Laughter rippled out in the crowd and cries of “Here! Here!”. Leo managed to reign in the purple tinge that had stained his face. Consoling himself with thoughts of violence. His hands twitched. There were too many things in the open now about him. If his fiancée caught wind of all this, he’d be a dead man. He took a fruitive glance to the boy making the sketch, brutality clear across his face.
Oz took note. Things were getting dangerous. If Leo lashes out in desperation, he would probably try to kill me and escape before getting identified. Oz glanced at the boy drawing the sketch of Leo. He’ll probably kill the boy and take the sketch…
Oz’s golden specked eyes followed Leo’s gaze. The man was now muttering things under his breath, sweat was pouring down the noble’s back. Leo took a hesitant step towards the boy, inching forward. His hands shook as he clasped his ivory hilted longsword. Leo glanced at the boy then at Oz. His plans were evident. Kill the boy. Then kill him. Then get out.
As Leo inched towards the boy, ignoring the jeers of the crowd. Oz felt his palms grow cold.
Dammit! I have to move now!
He called out, “Running away ‘Adulterer’?”
Leo froze. “Wh — wh — what are you talking about?”
Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of Oz’s cane bouncing on the floor stilled the rumblings of the crowd. Everyone held their breaths. Leo tensed, he sensed something was about to happen. Leo shifted his weight, away from the boy with the sketch. Though he was a young man, he had seen his far share of battles. He knew something was coming.
Oz squatted down, low, almost like a bullfrog. He extended his right leg forward and shifted back and forth, bouncing nimbly.
Leo twirled his sword in his hand. Following Oz’s motions with his sword, letting the tip bounce forward and back in rhythm.
Oz waited a few seconds more, praying the guards would come, bouncing back and forth.
As time stretched by, nervousness crept across Leo’s face again. Seeing Oz was just bouncing like a ball, his nervousness turned to irritation. His eyes flashed towards the boy with the sketch. He adjusted his guard, and turned his body, inching closer to the boy with the sketch.
My chance. Oz whispered, his voice carrying to the ears of everyone there, hushed and soothing — almost sweet.
“Here I come.”
He shifted his weight to the back foot and pushed with all his might, leaping in the air. The cobblestone cracking from the momentum. Soaring through the air he crossed the distance between himself and Leo in a heartbeat. His cane raised up over his head.
Leo stumbled, caught of guard and slightly out of position, swinging his sword only by instinct.
In mid-air Oz brought his cane down, knocking the blade towards the stone — dropping Leo’s guard. Leo frantically tried to jerk his sword back. But it was too late. Oz landed nimbly on his foot and used it as a pivot, flinging a sharp whip kick to the side of Leo’s head with his other foot.
Leo leaned back at the last second, almost falling over.
Oz cranked his arm back and used the momentum from the kick to spin his whole body around, whipping the cane in a wide circle smashing it against the side of his opponent’s head.
Leo tottered but didn’t fall. He managed to swing his sword out in an awkward slash.
Oz tsked as he lowered his body, letting Leo’s erratic swing sail by harmlessly.
Dammit, he jerked back at the last second, I missed his temple.
He didn’t let up the assault. Before Leo could reposition himself, Oz swung his arm down, the cane like a guided missile striking Leo’s ankle — snaking passed Leo’s attempt at a parry.
Leo felt his ankle pop. The Cultivator yelped, his sword falling from his hand at the pain of the strike. The can had struck right on the joint, he felt his ankle swell.
Leo tried to force lightning from his palm, in a desperate struggle. But then he saw stars.
Another cane to the face brought Leo back from the night sky, his nose spurting blood. The lightning fizzing out from his hand. Before he could try to channel his powers again, Oz lashed out, again and again and again, oscillating between the shin and the ankle, the wood smashing against his skin. A flurry of blows.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Then a crack. Leo screamed as his shin bone caved in.
The audience winced in response. Jaws dropped open, no one had expected this outcome. Bloodthirst was in the air, their looks turned savage. A rousing cheer went up as Leo barely managed to stay upright, bloodied and broken. People tried to push past some guards to get a better look at the noble’s downfall, the rabble delighted to see one of their so-called “betters” come tumbling down.
Oz didn’t let up, with a sharp in-step he crossed the distance, flipping his cane around, about to pound the hilt of the wood into Leo’s chest. At the moment before impact he glanced up, locking eyes with Leo. Leo’s eyes were bright blue and little worms of electricity squiggled in his hair. Oz felt his hair stand on end.
Dangerous!
He stopped mid-blow and leapt back as a pillar of lightning erupted from Leo. The Lightning Cultivator shouted defiantly as bolts of hot yellow energy streaked from his body striking the cobblestone and almost incinerating bystanders. Startled people jumped back as sound of thunderclaps intermingled with piercing cries of pain. Leo’s body convulsed violently as the raw power coursed through his veins, his skin splitting open from the stress. Guards shouted, and an errant bolt struck a soldier in chest, knocking him clean off his feet and into the crowd — his fate unknown.
Oz’s eyes were wide, he turned his head, a jolt of electricity narrowly passed by his ear. The smell of burned hair filled his nostrils, the hum of the passing lightning bolt giving him the chills.
Crackle! Crackle! Crackle!
The storm showed no sign of letting up and people tried to flee, but the space was too cramped, the street to narrow and the fearful blocked the way — unable to move. Unable to disperse the crowd simply huddled together pressed against the shops that lined the streets.
Oz sidestepped another lightning bolt. He watched Leo with cold eyes.
This is bad, damn whelp causing troubles for everyone and himself. He might die at this rate… I hope I don’t have to intervene, I don’t have the spare power for this and the test. Oz sidestepped another bolt that left a charred stone in its wake. He regarded Leo candidly, the boy was only Understudy Grade… this was a high-grade technique, much too high for him to use. Body of Thunder was its name.
Leo shouted and screamed another surge of electricity ricocheted through him. The brilliant flash of light made the onlookers squint. Electricity spewed from every orifice scorching the earth in a radius of a few feet around him.
His eyes seemed full of pain.
Oz recalled what he knew of the technique. Normally, the cultivator would use this before battle, then charge in — his body wreathed with blue lightning bolts. An ingenious technique, the armour was capable of both offence and defense, augmenting any electricity-based attacks he had.
Oz shielded his eyes from a surge of light and winced as a louder scream erupted from Leo.
This is abnormal. Something had gone wrong with the technique. The lightning shouldn’t be yellow, it should be blue. He should no longer have to be channeling the electricity, it should be beneath the skin, only the occasional streak of electricity splashing out — not this flashy. Clearly… someone is overreaching. Oz sighed to himself and stepped closer to the guards, farther away from Leo, the golden flecks in his eyes glittered lightly.
Then as quickly as it started the lightning stopped.
All that remained was a burned husk of a man. Tottering on his feet.
The glittering in Oz’s eyes stopped.
The torrent of electricity had shredded Leo’s clothes, only ashes remained, and his body was covered in lacerations and burns. Blood poured from open wounds, his proud eyes confused and unfocused. He dropped to his knees with a thump. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed in a heap.
The crowd was stunned into silence, the guards didn’t know what to do. No one was sure if he was alive at this point. No one dared to make a move.
Then a young boy’s cry woke everyone from their stupor, “The Praporshchik is here! The Praporshchik is here!”
The crowd shrank back again as three uniformed men stepped into view. If they were pressing against one another to flee before, now they were nearly trampling one another to get out of the way. Everyone feared McCarthy’s secret police. Oz took an opportunity in the chaos to peer at them from the side of a Civilian Guard, it was his first time seeing the elite soldiers of the Chancellor’s Office.
They wore dark black leather trench coats over their bodies, obscuring their size, each looking bigger than they actually were. On their chests were pins denoting their ranks, Oz wasn’t quite sure what ranks they were, but they looked like officers. On their heads they wore red military caps with black visors, a golden hammer and sickle was emblazoned overtop of the visor on the red felt. Dull brownish green sleeves peeked out from their coats and trousers of a matching colour paired with black leather boots were on their feet. Two men and a woman. Each exuding an aura of intimidation.
The gruff looking guard managed to stand on his feet and give a hasty salute.
The woman nodded in acknowledgement and tilted her head to the charred body of Leo, the two accompanying Praporshchik moved to the body, checking the pulse and pulling pills from pockets.
She turned to the scruffy looking guard, “Comrade, I am Iulia Nadalkova, Captain of the 1st Praporshchik Regiment of the Chancellor’s Office.”
Oz felt surprised at what he heard. A Captain? For little old me?
Oz leaned forward, trying to discreetly listen in on their conversation, but he gruff looking guard’s mumbled response was a little too quiet for Oz to hear. But apparently not too quiet for the woman, who listened intently to all the mutterings of the obviously very nervous soldier. She had an air of disdain for the nervous man. But in his defense, who wouldn’t be nervous? The gifted were everywhere, but only a few of the gifted managed to climb past the first two Grades. This woman had not only climbed who knows how many grades in strength, but she was also hand-picked by one of the most powerful men in all the world! And who was he? Some scruffy looking nobody who couldn’t even handle a rampaging teenager, albeit a teenager with the power of a mini-Thunder god, but a teenager nonetheless.
Oz tensed as her eyes flickered to him.
Then Oz saw something that made him grateful, Leo was sitting up. Covered in medicinal powder from crushed pills, but he was up. It looked like he would make a full recovery. Oz felt his spirits soar; his plan would crumble if somehow Leo had managed to die. Not to mention the toll it would take on his conscience. Then his spirits deflated.
The Captain of the Praporshchik walked passed the gruffy looking man and was headed straight to him. Her eyes set on him like a rabbit in the sights of a hunter.
Oz tried to look for an out, but it was too late, she had already stepped in front of him. Her leather boots clacking on the stone as she stood at attention.
“Name.”
Her voice was sweet, almost melodious. High cheekbones, tan skin, black hair and brown eyes. You didn’t see a lot of people with her complexion in the area, she was probably from the south.
“Name.”
The tone was no longer so polite, Oz pulled himself together for the interrogation.
“My name is Oz, you’ll have to pardon me, I’m a little nervous.”
He slid his rattan cane behind his back and managed a half-bow while taking off his bowler cap in a gesture of respect.
The lines on the woman’s face lightened.
Who didn’t like to be respected? Oz tried not to smile as her demeanour visibly relaxed.
She dismissed the guard beside him with a wave of her hand and gave an order to disperse the remaining crowd. Most of the people were more than happy to disperse at this point. But to Oz this was an odd decision to make, to just let all the witnesses leave.
“Milady, if you —”
“You will address me as Captain, young man.”
“Yes, well… I’m not in the army… I was just trying to be —”
“Your politeness is noted, please go on.”
Oz felt his mood sour. So much for being softened up.
Oz began again, and discovered mid-sentence he had a small problem, “Well… Captain… um… your name please?”
“I’m sure you heard it when you were eavesdropping on my conversation with the guard over there.”
Oz felt his back tighten, “There’s no need to be so hostile.”
“I am not hostile… not yet.”
“Well, Captain.” He had to try with all his might to keep the disdain out of his voice, “Why are you dispersing the crowd, don’t you need witnesses?”
“I think I have enough information to know what’s going on here,” She pulled out a book from her pocket and a quill pen and started scratching a few words down.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
For some reason, this didn’t comfort Oz at all, it made him nervous instead. Bloody hell, something just isn’t right here…
“Do you have a last name Oz?”
Her voice broke through his thoughts, he mumbled out a “No”. She looked surprised, so surprised she asked again.
“Do you have a last name Oz?”
“Not that I am aware of… Captain.”
She nodded and kept scratching on the paper. Then tore it from her notepad and handed it to him.
Before he could read it, she spoke.
“Oz, ‘No last name’, by the authority invested in me by Chancellor Joseph McCarthy, in the name of liberty, peace and justice. I arrest you for assaulting one Leopold Parnassus. The visible evidence being a broken shin from a cane weapon and various burns and wounds from lightning bombs. These attacks were made without provocation by the testimony of ten lawmen. Your sentencing shall be done by a judge. I ask that you come with me quietly, Leopold’s father, Magellan Parnassus will probably want to speak with you prior to the sentencing.”
Oz thought his eyes would pop out based on how wide they went.
“Wait, wait! Hang on! You’re arresting me? I didn’t assault him, he assaulted me! Then he challenged me to a duel. And what lightning-based attacks?! Those were self-inflicted, hundred of people saw the whole thing! And what do mean by the testimony of ten lawmen…” Oz’s eyes darted about, trying to lock eyes with anyone of the Civilian Guards, but none of them would look him in the eye. Their eyes averted because of shame. The scruffy looking guard was the only one who dared. His expression was apologetic, his fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white. His eyes seemed to say, “I tried my best, and I’m pissed.”
The woman spoke again. Her tone cold as a result of his disagreement.
“Oz, perjury is an additional crime, it will make your sentencing more severe.”
“Perjury? Are you out of your fricking mind! Perjury is lying under oath, not telling the truth! Not to mention that what you’re doing is conspiracy, if the Chancellor ever —”
Oz saw stars.
She had hit him, hard. This was his second time today being punched in the jaw. But this time, the blood was real. He felt a tooth wiggle loose. It was a miracle he managed to stay on his feet. A miracle that clearly surprised the Captain. Her face wrinkled in displeasure. But she refrained from striking him again.
Professional to the last.
Black spots dotted Oz’s vision, he shouted at her, “There are hundreds of people who saw what happened here today! You think you can lock me up!”
She struck him again.
This one was more than he could handle, Oz dropped, his head smacking into the road. A bloody gash emerging. He rolled over, groaning in pain and yelped as boot struck him in the stomach.
The woman’s voice was harsh, “Get up maggot!”
Oz almost cursed at her, but the scruffy looking guard jumped between him and her, before he could earn himself more violence. His pot-belly jiggling as he spread his arms out wide, interposing himself between Oz and his accuser.
“Captain Nadalkova, the boy is a Civilian, he’s not gifted… please go easy on him.”
The scruffy looking guard tensed as the Captain’s hand rested on his shoulder. She was tall for a woman, standing almost half a head above the stout man.
Her voice low and threatening, “Are you giving me an order?”
The guard stuttered, flustered at the accusation, “I would never dream of such… of such a… thing… I —”
He stopped mid-sentence as her hand clenched his shoulder.
With every word she spoke the guard’s face paled, “Countermanding a superior officer is insubordination. The penalty is death.”
“I would never counter anything—”
His mouth slammed shut as the sound of bone and flesh separating filled the street. The whites of his eyes showed as the woman’s hand punctured into his skin and tore through muscle. He held in a scream.
She smiled sadistically and clamped harder.
“Since you like the boy so much, why don’t you look like him too?”
Her face was sinister, but her tone wasn’t sadistic or dark. There was no emotion in it, it was like she was recounting the score of the latest football match or the price of tea in the street market. But not everyone could be so candid about such things. The other Civilian Guards turned away, trying not to vomit. The sound of ripping flesh reverberated in the street. It was almost like the sound of parchment tearing, intermingled with the crunch of bones. But the guard didn’t cry out. He gritted his teeth as the Captain’s fingers ripped through his tendons and popped his arm out of his socket with a sickening sound. With one smooth motion she ripped off his arm and threw it onto the ground beside him.
The man’s face was trained of blood, his breathing haggard. Blood poured from his open wound and he shifted unsteadily on his feet as if he would faint.
She pulled out a paper with a drawing of a flame on it. But seeing how well the guard held in the pain she put it away. She looked at his arm, “Pick it up, that’s an order.”
The guard dropped to his knees. His breathing heavy as a steady drip drip filled everyone’s ears. The barbarism was appalling, a couple guards turned and lost the contents of their lunch. Leopold looked like he was about to black out again. But the three Praporshchik were as calm as ever. They were used to this kind of thing, violence was necessary for order. And as far as they were concerned justice was a matter of perspective.
The gruff looking Captain managed to grab his arm and held the bleeding stump close by, he inclined his head differentially, “Thank you for sparing my life.”
The woman nodded magnanimously, as if she should be praised for restraining herself so well. Oz felt sick. He of all people knew how hard it was to live with only one arm in a world like this. He had to improvise and change stances in his cane fighting book to accommodate the lack of arm. Thankfully only a handful of moves required two hands. But it was the little things that took getting used too. It was easier to fall off balance and the worst was phantom arm. Even now he would sometimes reach for something with an arm that wasn’t there. He felt his gut clench. The man protected him because he thought Oz was just a powerless civilian like him, not one of the gifted.
The Captain however was not giving Oz time to regret, she called out again, “Oz, surrender yourself into my custody, if you do not I will be forced to kill you.”
Oz snorted, he wasn’t feeling particularly respectful of this woman, “What’s the difference between killing me now or later? You’re going to kill me anyway. Just kill me now.”
She narrowed her eyes in response, “Oz, I will have to ask you one more time to please surrender yourself. You will receive a fair trial, on account of your age you will receive a lighter sentence.”
He spat derisively, “What’s the name of a trial where the outcome is already decided? I’ll tell you what it is. Piss. Just a bunch of piss. You can keep your damn kangaroo court.”
The guards looked fearful. The Praporshchik looked malevolent. Leopold looked happy.
The Captain pulled back her hand, as if about to sever Oz’s head from his neck with one blow.
Then Oz’s brown eyes flashed radiant gold. He spoke, his voice a low croon, like the sound of a tree groaning in the wind.
“Bratus.”
The Praporshchik shouted. The woman tried to change her motion, but it was too late — they were caught off guard. The ground beneath the three of them quaked, knocking them off their feet. Before they could collect themselves to respond three trees shot up from the ground wrapping around them like vines, growing and solidifying. Shock flooded their faces as they sputtered, trying to remember their own words of power.
One of them shouted, “I thought he wasn’t gifted!”
A fourth tree sprouted, its vineish top bursting from below the ground almost ten feet in front of Oz. The sapling snaked below Oz’s feet, forming a flat board-like surface. The base of the tree kept shooting up while its top was firmly beneath Oz’s feet. Green energy danced up Oz’s arm and coalesced in his palm. He flung it at his feet, roots sprung from the ground binding the wooden paddle to the ground as its base continued to grow. The trunk of the tree bent backwards, taunt and in the shape of a sling.
Mere seconds had passed.
But it was enough for the far more powerful and more experienced Cultivators to finally show their true colours. The two beside Leopold were first, one charred the branches with fire the other simply tore them from his body — his muscles expanding to twice their size with a lionlike roar. Last was the woman, who sliced through the wood like it was paper, her skin a metallic tint. But before they could cast a spell or advance on Oz, the roots binding him to the ground snapped and he was flung into the distance, high above them and towards the forest.
As Oz sailed out of reach, catapulted into the air by his strange technique, the scruffy looking guard who was short an arm felt like cursing his luck. He had helped a Cultivator, someone who was more than capable of taking care of himself and lost his arm in the process. Just as he was about to curse the lad out, a whisper sounded in his ear.
It was the boy. He almost dropped his arm in shock.
“Friend, I am grateful for you help, in your pocket is a pill. Go to Ebenezer Black’s shop on 3rd Street, tell him I sent you. Your arm will be as good as new if you hurry. In your other pocket are ten gold ducats. Thank you kindly, be safe.”
The man wept. His fellow guards started carrying him off as he shouted, “Take me to the doctor on 3rd street! On 3rd street!
The Praporshchik raged. But there was nothing they could do. The two men went beside the Captain, their expressions nervous. She stared off in the distance, oblivious to everything around her. The remaining Civilian Guards scampered away quietly, making themselves scarce, grateful to be ignored. The Captain had her back to her fellows, her eyes tracking Oz’s progress in the sky before he vanished out of sight, dipping below the trees.
The slightly taller guard ventured to speak, “He caught us off guard.”
The other Praporshchik smirked, “Off guard… good one.”
The Captain whirled on them, her eyes were ablaze with fury as she seethed, “Find him! We’ve been had”
****
Oz sailed through the air for only about half a minute, but it felt like an eternity. He was a couple hundred feet in the air and flying fast, it was exhilarating and normally it would be enjoyable. But whole time he felt like vomiting and a trickle of blood followed behind him in the air. He had used too much power. He was heavily injured, not mortally, by the Green Hills it wasn’t a mortal wound. But it was severe. He popped a healing pill in his mouth and gritted his teeth, summoning a wisp of green energy from his bosom that snaked to his arm. The treetops in the forest grew larger and larger as he barrelled towards them at breakneck speed. He tucked himself into a small ball, beads of sweat poured down his face as the green energy gather to his palm, it took all his concentration to accomplish this feat. There was no time to reflect on his encounter with the Praporshchik and their conspiracy against him, frankly, he wasn’t out of the weeds just yet.
He braced himself for impact. And counted down in his mind.
3
2
1
Just as his body was about to impact a bristling pine he touched the top of the tree and spoke a word of power.
“Defloresce.”
The tree groaned as the green energy instantly infect it a cancerous rot that rampaged through the branches. All the green tender shoots withered, and the leaves turned a foul brown. The wood was now soft and brittle.
Oz smashed into the decayed wood.
The tree exploded in a puff of dark brown sawdust, the wood looking so old and rotten that it was hardly recognizable. As Oz plummeted to the ground, he used the last bit of the green energy to move the powdered wood in front of him, to provide some sort of cushioning for his fall.
He closed his eyes and smashed into the forest floor with a thud. Everything went black.
*****
“We can’t find him,” A man in a green uniform and a steel breastplate stood nervously before a dark cherrywood desk. Piles of papers stacked so high you could barely see who was sitting down. The man shifted his feet nervously and gently tapped the sword hanging from his waist, as if trying to reassure himself that he could survive this moment.
The scratch of a quill pen and another paper joined the top of the precariously high piles. Dark brown eyes peered at the green uniformed man making him sweat. Wavy black hair and tan skin framed a face with high cheekbones. It was Captain Iulia Nadalkova, absent her hat with the hammer and sickle logo.
“I’m sorry!” The guard squeaked out and bowed his head low, beads of sweat pooling at the floor beneath him.
Her voice was calm and assured, “Where is the Sergeant I spoke with earlier? He at least had the decency to look me in the eye.”
The man’s face went pale, “He’s seeing a doctor… on account of…” The man gently touched his shoulder, unable to say the words.
“Right, I forgot about that.” Came the terse response. She sighed, “I suppose you will have to do… he’s in the forest. Towards the North-East, find him.”
“Captain… if I —”
The man stopped mid-sentence, unable to complete the thought when he met her cold eyes.
She prompted him, irritation creeping into her voice, “Yes? Continue.”
He made a strange choking sound before continuing, “There is unrest in the city.” He gasped dramatically for air. “Rumors have spread that the Praporshchik framed an innocent man… more guards than usual are necessary to keep the public peace.”
And inkwell flew onto the gasping man’s head eliciting another gasp.
“Next time you should be more careful about repeating unsavory rumors in my presence,” came the snappy reply.
The two other Praporshchik sniggered in the corner as the guardsman almost tumbled over with fright, desperately trying to wipe off the ink with a handkerchief. The guard righted himself, and after wiping sweat from his face managed to eek out, “The search force only consists of ten people, we —”
“You’ll never find him like that!” Her thundering voice made the guardsman jump with fright. “Where’s the Auditor? The Chancellor’s Office promised to send us the highest ranked Auditor available,” heat entered her voice, surprising her fellows and almost making the guard pass out with fear. Her eyes fell on the snivelling guardsmen, “Get out, you witless worm!”
“Now now… there’s no need to be so harsh.”
The voice floated into the room. The guard heaved a sigh of relief as he tried to stand up, his knees wobbly. The Captain’s face went sour. Who dared to rebuked her in this place? The anger beneath the surface was far greater than what she showed. But she couldn’t show her emotions without knowing who it was, she was an intelligent woman. She knew who needed to be obeyed and who could be trampled on, that’s why Magellan Parnassus — Leopold’s father — had taken great pains to send her to deal with this incident. But before she saw the man she smelled him.
The heavy odor of tobacco filled the office, it was a light cherry scent. The sound of heavy leather boots on wood reverberated in the room with an unnatural depth. Her eyebrows went up and so did those of her companions. The two of them instinctively tensed up. One of the marks of breaking free of the mortal coil was to have a presence. Powerful Wizards and Cultivators, when they weren’t hiding their powers, could be felt at a distance — as if they were larger than life, taking up more space than their human body would allow.
Everyone in the room swallowed nervously as the footsteps drew closer and closer.
They didn’t have to wait long, but the suspense was killing them, A figure rounded the corner and turned into the office.
He was of average height, wrinkled and old, his black skin saggy and loose. The light from the window in the office reflected off his bald head. His bare chest was exposed, showing a long resume of war and death. The scars were immense. There was a particularly noticeable scar on his left wrist, as if it had been amputated and reattached. His eyes were brown and dark, deep like water in the nighttime. He pulled a worn black leather jacket tight over his boney frame. On his legs were dark blue denim jeans and high top black leather boots. The sound of him puffing contentedly seemed to soothe everyone in the room, he had a pipe in his mouth and a heavy cloud of smoke hung all around him.
It was Ed.
Ed looked at the secular guard, who was so weak compared to the gifted. He felt pity for the man, it reminded him of his former self. He focussed his mind on the man and straightened his back with a psychic push. The man looked at Ed in shock. Ed placed a hand on his shoulders, “Buck up. Now get out.”
“Thank-you sir!” The words were spoken almost as an afterthought because the man was already out the door before he spoke — he was clearly terrified at the prospect of remaining in the room with the Cultivators.
The woman at the desk stood up, her eyes fixed on Ed.
“I see you have a soft spot for the mortals.” Her normally cold tone was insipid.
Ed payed it no mind and looked around for a chair.
“We can talk,” he said, “Once I’ve sat down.”
“Sorry, there’s only one chair in the office.” As she moved to sit down Captain Nadalkova’s eyes went wide in fear. She couldn’t move, she tried to cry out to alert her comrades, but she couldn’t even open her mouth. It was like she was drowning, completely submerged underwater.
The sound of something being picked up frightened her but being unable to react frustrated her. Her expression was livid.
Ed had floated her chair from behind the desk and placed it behind him gently and sat down. Then he released her.
She gasped for air, drooping low. Her comrades tried to help her — startled at the sudden outburst and clearly unaware of what had transpired — but she shook them off. Her eyes were bursting with anger, but two things her. One, this man’s rank was probably far above hers. Two, he was probably Commander Grade. She was Major Grade and her assistants were only Lieutenant Grade — and could render her powerless with just a casual exertion of power. And the man was a Psyker. Psykers were difficult to deal with, they were the most secretive of all the Cultivators, there was even talk that they had a secret method of teleportation.
Ed sucked a deep breath from his pipe and exhaled a massive amount of smoke while sitting contentedly in his seat. The officers stood in front of him awkwardly. He studied the three soldiers in front of him. They were part of McCarthy’s not-so-secret police. These three were part of the bottom category, the Praporshchik. And based on the desk and the office, she was probably the Captain of a Regiment, he glanced at a pin on her desk. First regiment… The worst regiment. The dregs of the dregs. Full of corruption and bribery. Many wealthy nobles and Department Heads had bought out regiments of the Praporshchik, the 1st Regiment fell into corruption almost a year after it was made. So, it was no surprise that from the get go, something smelled off. Time to investigate…
Ed took another breath of tobacco smoke and wafted some of the cloud into the eyes of the three in front of him, just to irritate them. The woman looked like she was about to protest, Ed raised a hand cutting her off.
“My name is Edmund DeSantes, Chief Auditor.”
One of the men let out a gasp, “McCarthy’s Right Hand?”
Ed grinned, as if bashful, “Well… I think technically the Council of Sagery is McCarthy’s Right Hand, I’m just a man in the shadows.”
The three of them lost a hue of colour in their faces. Maybe they shouldn’t have asked for the highest-ranking Auditor available.
Ed pressed his advantage, “You are the Praporshchik?” Ed pointed the stem of his pipe to the woman.
She nodded.
Ed’s eyes turned to the two men flanking her, “And these are your Soldats?”
Her mouth tightened, “No.”
Ed crooked an eyebrow, “Oh?”
“They are my Kaprals,” she supplied, her finger twitched, revealing the nervousness she felt inside.
But Ed didn’t need a twitching finger to know something was wrong, “So let me get this straight…” He tapped his pipe casually, letting ash spill on the floor. “Two teenagers got into a brawl in the city… one of them at least Major Grade?”
“Understudy Grade.” Her face tightened even more.
“Oh… how interesting… what an interesting affair. We have two young teenagers, both boys I presume?” He barely paused to see their nod, “I assumed as much, women tend to be much more mild-mannered at that age… they take out their raging hormones in other ways. Something I’m sure you know all about, Praporshchik.”
The Captain nodded, fear more than anger showing in her eyes. She felt cornered, something wasn’t right. Why was the Auditor examining them? Leopold’s father had given her assurances!
“Now… when two teenagers fight — of the Understudy Grade — I should think that a couple of your Soldats, just the common foot soldier, would be more than enough to deal with this matter. Not to mention the fact that you were under active orders to remain here at headquarters in the event of an emergency. But for some reason, you, the Non-Commissioned Officer — without receiving any marching orders — took it upon yourself to personally deal with this matter and to take two other officers with you. This looks like dereliction of duty and conspiracy to commit insubordination.”
“Sir if I may —” Choking sounds filled the room as the Captain was lifted off her feet, her face turning red as she tried to breathe. Her officers jumped to help her, but one look of warning from Ed sent them back, cowering in fear.
“Do you dare interrupt me?”
She shook her head frantically.
“Oh, you’re a tough one…” Ed managed see a look of defiance in her eyes, he switched targets, like a snake savouring his prey. “You… yes you.”
The slightly taller guard pointed at himself nervously.
Ed continued, “You look nervous, do you respect your superior officer? Has Captain Nadalkova treated you well?”
He nodded wildly.
Ed smiled patronizingly, letting smoke drift around his face, “Why don’t you tell me who sent the order for you guys to break up the fight? I don’t think you would do something that would get you sent to the gulags unless…” He wagged his pipe at them. “Unless someone promised to protect you.”
He looked to his fellow officer. The other man shook his head, miming to him to not say anything.
Ed smiled, and spoke out loud, “To Chancellor Joseph McCarthy.”
The air seemed to move in response to Ed’s words. The officers were scared stiff.
Ed continued, “One officer,” Ed paused to stare at the man who had just shaken his head. The man screamed as Ed’s Psychosis tore through his brain. He collapsed on the floor in a heap. “Pardon me, I had to figure out his name. Peter Niminchky, Kapral of the 1st Regiment, just told an officer to not answer a direct question from an Auditor. What is the penalty?”
McCarthy’s voice rumbled in the room, its tone hoarse and breathy, almost like an artificial reconstruction, “Death.”
Ed formed an invisible hammer out of psychosis and smashed it into the unconscious man’s head. The unconscious man managed to let out a guttural scream as the ethereal weapon passed through his body. The only thing his friends saw was a fit of convulsions and the blood that leaked from his ears.
The two remaining officers looked around in fear, their breathing was shallow and frantic. That’s all it took.
He was dead.
Just like that.
Ed was nonplussed at their behaviour, but then a look of enlightenment crossed his face, “Oh, this must have been your first time hearing the Chancellor’s voice through the air. It’s a marvelous thing, comforting isn’t it? He’s like a big brother, he hears everything.” A hint of sarcasm tinged Ed’s voice, but it was barely noticeable. Ed noticed the woman’s tanned face had turned blue. “Terribly sorry, I forgot I was holding you.”
He released his psychic grip from her neck and she tumbled to the floor, gasping for air. Her companion rushed to help her up, at this point she was too weak and altogether unwilling to shake him off.
“Now, where was I… Oh yes.” Without warning the room shook with a flood of psychosis making the two remaining officers nauseous. The woman hurled the contents of her lunch, a tuna fish sandwich and some juice, onto the floor in a pile. Ed grabbed her again with his mind, pulling her up by the hair and dangling her above the desk. She held back screams of pain.
The other officer shrieked, “Sir, please let her go! We’ve done nothing wrong, we simply did what we were supposed to do! The guardsmen will testify for us.”
Ed poked his teeth with the stem of his pipe, “It’s funny you should mention the guardsmen, I had a chat with one earlier. Scruffy looking fellow, said a trio of Praporshchik arrested an innocent boy — who fairly won a duel — and framed him for assault.” The colour in the duo’s face drained completely. Ed was concerned, he continued, his voice even and calm. “You know, normally, if you want to frame someone with false testimony. You try to guarantee the loyalty of the people you use. Typically ripping off someone’s arm does little to guarantee their loyalty. Especially when someone more powerful offers them protection for telling the truth.”
“We — We —”
Ed cut off the officer, “You see… the 1st Regiment has long been due for a purge. But, I don’t have enough evidence yet to kill everyone in the regiment, but I’m sure everyone of you is dirty. The only question is how deep does the purge need to go? How many regiments and is it just the Praporshchik. I hope it didn’t reach all the way to the Rotmister… though… that would be… exciting.” Ed’s eyes twinkled with wild abandon. Then he sobered, as if realizing an unpleasant truth about himself. How much he resembled someone he didn’t like.
Ed collected himself and looked at the two officers, “Let me do it like this, what’s your name lad?”
The officer stammered, “Mik— Mik — Mikhael Dimitry.”
Ed puffed a cloud of smoke out, his tone was genial. “Mikhael Dimitry? That’s a good name, a nice name. You should be proud of yourself son, you don’t look to be over forty and you’re already Lieutenant Grade.”
“My wife is very happy for me…” he managed to get out, a bit of relaxation in his tone. He seemed to think the threat of death had passed.
Ed winced at the remark, remembering his own wife. But his heart had turned hard a long time ago. “You are Kapral rank?”
“Yes sir…” Mikhael managed to stand up, his eyes somehow avoiding his comrade dangling painfully by her hair.
Ed’s voice was almost fatherly, but his words were harsh, “I will see to it that the record reads you died honorably and not as a traitor, that way your widow will be cared for.” Ed glanced at the already dead officer, “Though I can’t say the same for your friend.”
Mikhael’s face flashed with different expressions. Fear. Anger. Hurt. But then, peace. A tear streaked down his eye and he took off his hat and held it to his chest. “It is less than my sins deserve.”
Ed nodded and stood up, ruffling his jacket. “Kneel.”
Mikhael knelt down, his hands shook as he clasped them to his chest. As if holding his heart. His voice was shaky, “God of the Green Hills, receive me.”
Ed’s gruff voice rang out, “It will be painless…” Ed stepped forward and put his hand on the man’s head and flooded his brain with sweet psychosis. His eyes fluttered shut as they closed in peaceful sleep for the last time. A few seconds later, he was dead.
Ed floated his body beside the other man’s and walked over, as if to inspect his handiwork. His back to the woman suspended by her hair.
The woman’s eyes were frantic. She was next. Oh light untold, she was next! She tried to secretly channel her energy into her hands in preparation for a final assault. She would cut off her hair, then attack with —
But Ed’s voice cut off all hope. He spoke without looking at the woman, “I am going to give you two options, well… technically there are three. Either you keep gathering your energy, like you are, and I will kill you in the most painful way conceivable.”
She immediately relaxed, letting the energy disperse. Curiosity was now on her face.
“The other is that you willingly submit yourself to death and I will kill you painlessly as I did to this man.”
She clenched her knuckles quietly in response, cursing herself for not holding onto the energy.
But Ed’s eyes were calculating as he thought of her mental fortitude, grit and determination. He grinned wickedly as he propositioned her, “Or, instead of giving me your death, you give me your life.”