Unconquered Pt. 09

"Oh yeah," Ceaith whispered. "Pop your anima and bring the entire army down on our heads. Great plan, dipshit."

I gritted my teeth -- but I saw that Ceaith's ears were flattened back against her head. Disgust filled her eyes as she watched the cracking whips and the hundred prisoners. She looked away and my wives let me go as we came up to one of the guards. The guard smirked at me and said, in a sneering tone: "Well, well, aren't you provincial?"

He was looking at my forehead -- which had a wrapping around it, to cover my soulgem. Since, while having no soulgem would make me seem like a rube, having the soulgem of the Unconquered would make me a very dead Ember. All my lunars had used their fancy shapeshifting magic to make their gems look like standard Regency gems.

"We bought him at market," Ceaith said, casually, slapping my back. "A slave-husband's the best kind."

Xora nodded. "Yes he has a huge cock!" She shouted, her terror at being found out as a liar making her voice squeak at the last bit.

Ceaith snorted. "Honey. Honey. Shh. No. Shh." She patted Xora's shoulder, even if she had to reach up to do it. Xora blushed, darkly, while I smiled at the guard, as if to say women! Huh? Always with the enslaving, am I right?

The guard smirked, eying me. "Got a writ of sale for this slave?"

Ceaith nodded, her soulgem glowing. A circle of parchment popped out of her head and she snatched it from the air and held it out to the guard. It said, in as convincing a forgery as June could make, that I was the slave-husband of these two fine, upstanding women and their sari. Two women, a sari and a slave-husband was not a terribly unusual marriage-pattern, and it'd be even less strange in the cosmopolitan sprawl of Samsara. The guard eyed it, nodded.

"All right," he said. "Let me scan your gems for any contraband and you can enter the glorious city of Samsa, home of the Regent, long may he reign in the name of Good-" A piteous scream rang out from one of the hundred poor souls that lined the walkways. "-King Bahul."

Each Lunar stepped forward, though Chirp looked as if they wanted to turn into a bat and fly away. They brushed their hair back, to show off their soulgems, and the guard scanned each using a small rod of sky-blue metal, which whirred and chirruped, then announced: "No contraband de-tec-ted!" in a metallic, tinny voice. A shadow passed over us, like that of a huge cloud. I craned my head backwards and saw that one of the flying islands was, well, flying by, blotting out the sun. As it drifted overhead, the guard checked the wand over, nodding as he did so.

"Welcome to Samsara, ladies," he said. "Praise the Regent! Ia ia!" He crossed his arms over his armored chest.

"Ia! Ia!" Ceaith said, bowing her head.

"Ia..." Xora and Chirp said, less eagerly -- but they did mimic the arm crossing gesture. Then we were past the guards and walking past the poor people who had tried to bring in contraband. Merchants, even here, were selling things -- binoculars and kites and trinkets and food and drink, calling out their costs. Dirty and thirsty travelers stopped by them to buy what they could -- but most others hurried on. I saw that no one but the guards were allowed to ride mounts, but there were more than a few men and women who, rather than heading into the city, instead stopped by stalls festooned by bottles, tended by old men and women.

There, once a truly staggering amount of money exchanged hands, they would drink from a bottle. What happened next seemed to depend entirely on the money given and the whims of the person in question. Some were born away on clouds of black thunder. Others sprouted feathered wings and took to the air. Some were simply consumed in flares of green flame and sputtering smoke -- though I was sure they had been transported somewhere else. At least.

I hoped so.

As we didn't have much in terms of money, all four of us stuck to walking.

"I want to know what that gold was," I said, quietly.

"I think we might get to find out..." Ceaith said, her ears perking up. She was looking at another one of those large two humped creatures. On this one stood a man with a megaphone and a flag that was covered in script that proclaimed him to be The Most August and Divine Announcer of Tasks and Duties.

"All slaves wanted!" he shouted. "Slaves and menials! A good pay for their work, available in the center of the town for the raising! Praise the Regent! Ia! Ia! Praise him!"

"Ia! Ia!" Dozens of people called back.

"What does that mean?" I whispered. Chirp leaned close.

"It's..." They paused, biting their lower lip. "It's the worship word for the Unconquered. That call and response, it's only meant for, uh, for the Unconquered." They nodded.

"Well!" I said, affronted. "And here I didn't think I couldn't get more offended by all the...slavery."

"What kind of delusional idiot co-opts that, though?" Ceaith asked, her teeth clenching tight as she flicked her ears back.

"The kind that..." Xora closed her mouth, clearly not willing to voice what she was thinking -- not because she didn't want to believe it, though. I could see, clearly, that she had instead realized it was a bad idea to voice that here, in Samsara. But I was thinking it too: The Regent had clearly killed Bahul, the previous Unconquered. Only someone with the arrogance and power to slay an Unconquered would dare to use the call/response like that. I nodded slowly, then cracked my knuckles.

"lets see what this...raising is," I said.

Ceaith grinned, then reached up, grabbing my arm. "Great idea!" she said, then shoved me forward. I stumbled out of the crowd to stand before the announcer -- and had barely enough time to stammer in confusion before Ceaith said: "My slave is ready to work for the Regent!"

"Ah, yes, very good!" the announcer paused. "Though...he is a bit scrawny."

"Oh, he'll surprise you," Ceaith said, grinning casually.

I shot her a glare -- but then the guards were advancing, with an outstretched leash, which wrapped around my throat. Before I knew it, I was being marched down the road, my wives watching me go. Chirp, at least, had the good sense to look utterly horrified. As did Xora. I glared at Ceaith, then focused on walking forward towards the...rising.

The end destination, as it transpired, was an astoundingly long walk away. My feet were aching and my throat was sore from the tightening of the leash -- and I wasn't sure if Xora, Ceaith or Chirp had kept up with me. But I at least now knew where we were going and why: The buildings to either side dropped away and I saw that we had entered into a truly massive open area of the city. The tiled ground -- all beautiful, geometic mosaics -- swept outwards for what seemed to be miles. Bristling walls of guards cordoned off certain areas, where large scaffolding thrust into the air. On those scaffolds were large sets of comfortable chairs, with large leaves being held by dozens of slaves, waving the leaves at the people sitting underneath cloth shades.

The wealthy were eating grapes and drinking wine, watching the center of the clearing -- which had a truly titanic golden foot thrusting into the air. No. That wasn't the center. Ember's eyes widened as he realized that the other bits of scaffoldings and the large collection of ropes and the pullies all combined into a single, titanic vision: There was a three hundred yard tall golden statue, laying upon its back in the clearing, surrounded by nobles and wealthy and the common poor, all here to watch the rising. Past the prone statue, so far off it was nearly hazed into indistinguishably, was a huge set of thrones, set upon a tall collection of scaffolds.

My eyes flickered with sparks of gold.

Sitting upon that throne, his face concealed by the same mask that was carved into the statue, was the Regent.

There was no one else it could be.

The Regent was nearly seven feet tall and four feet wide. He was covered in rippling, dark brown muscle. His body was covered with tiny seamed scars, all of them displayed by his lack of a shirt and robes. His hands were the huge, meaty fists of a martial artist or a strongman. He wore a short, narrow kilt, which showed off equally muscular legs. His hair was long and jet black and had been tied off into an elegant ponytail. But his face was impossible to see -- he wore a mask, a heavy white stone mask with no lips and eye holes that were shaded, making his actual eyes impossible to see. He was bedecked in gold and gems -- necklaces, rings, baldrics, bracers, torqs and armbands, each one gleaming brilliantly. To either side sat a pair of women. One was a tall girl dressed in a green kimono, with bright red hair, green eyes, and a set of fox ears. She had a huge fox tail in her lap, which she pet slowly, but it clearly wrapped around from her back. The other was a skinny, short, shadowed figure who was wrapped in black, clad in black, and had a black knife in their hands, which they played with slowly.

I frowned. "There he is," I murmured.

"All right, slave, get on the-" One of the guards started.

I reached out, my hands flashing through the air, grabbed both of the guards by their helmets, then smashed them together. They collapsed to the ground before me and before anyone could see what I had done, I dove into the crowd. Within a few moments, I had been lost in the mass of humanity. I saw that even the guards weren't quite aware what had happened -- the two who I had left prone on the ground weren't even approached by other guards for a few moments, the crowds making it almost impossible to see what had happened to them.

It helped that no one raised a hew and cry...despite the cries of 'ia ia', it seemed that the citizens of Samsara weren't entirely sincerer.

But before I could begin to slip away and find my wives, a droning horn filled the air. Burrr wuuuu!

For a moment, I thought it was me. I looked back, to see if guards were going to begin pouring out to hunt me. But no. It wasn't me. It was the statue. Or, more accurately, the slaves around the statue. Hundreds of them, gathered from across the whole of Samsara, were slapping white powder into their hands and onto their bare feet. They were, en mass, reaching down to pick up rope after rope after rope. The vast array of pullies and rope collections that threaded through the air started to creak and groan, like some vast critter rousing. The droning horn rang again -- and then, in unison, a hundred voices bellowed a single word.

"Pull!"

A drum sounded -- thom thom!

"Pull!"

A drum again -- thom thom!

With each thom thom a few thousand feet stepped forward, one after the other, the slaves clenching their teeth, their lips skinning backwards. Their feet dragged along the ground and the ropes groaned -- and the entire statue began to rise. The head caught sunlight and flashed it into my face and the entire crowd began to cheer, enthusiastically or at the very least faking it convincingly. They cheered and they threw confetti into the air, and they burst into song that sounded like the Regency theme.

And under it...

"Pull!"

Thom thom!

"Pull!"

The stature rose and rose, the ropes grinding and groaning. And the statue rose more and more -- a statue of gold stolen from imperial holdings, smelted by artisans paid in wealth squeezed from the desperately poor, cast in the form of a murderous Regent who would whip a man a hundred times for breaking a petty law. I saw blood dripping from the palms and the feet of some slaves -- each bearing the weight of the statue, despite their massed effort and the pullies, on their own shoulders and their muscles. I saw the pain on their faces, the wild animal desperation in their eyes as the drums played.

But the drums could not mask the whip crack as the overseers grew more insistent.

"Pull! Pull! Pull!"

The stature rose.

And my ears tingled. The creaking was changing a note -- under the singing, under the drum. It was the ropes. My eyes widened as one of the ropes snapped. It was a sound like a wooden wall shattering, and the rope spooled through a pully, then smashed into it. The pulley flew apart with a spread of screws and scrap metal. More ropes began to snap apart, the stress of the first impact rippling through the entire apparatus, like an earthquake shaking apart a village built of sand.

A whole line of slaves fell, at once, the strain on their ropes going slack. Another fell, and another. Those that were not effected by the breakage cried out in terror as their feet dragged along the pavement. The statue, which was at a forty five degree angle, began to cant upon one ankle, like a dancer doing a pirouette. Golden light flared throughout the whole of the massive opening, reflecting from the statue as nobles and commoners alike screamed in terror. Some raised their hands up, as if they could stop the statue that was about to smash into them.

In the end.

There was no question.

I leaped into the air, sailing above the heads of the crowd, my headband flapping off. My soulgem caught the light of the sun and gaped -- and people turned their heads up. They looked at me, their eyes wide.

I landed beside one of the main hawsers -- the largest ropes, which the smaller ropes had connected to. It was snaking along the ground, drawing itself towards destruction as it played out slack and the statue began to topple.

I kicked it into the air.

Grabbed onto it with both hands.

And blazed like the rising sun.

The clouds overhead parted in a ring and the sun above shone his light directly down upon me, highlighting the gleaming sweat on my body as my muscles strained. My anima flared and rippled around me, forming snarling, spitting dragons. My soulgem blazed from my forehead as I clenched my teeth, my ankles burrowing into the tiled floor. Chips of stone flew into the air as the ground beneath me crunched, then cratered, the shattering tiles expanding outwards in concentric rings of destruction as my feet sank deeper into the ground. But I was the Unconquered. I would not move.

The statue tottered on one ankle, suspended above the masses of nobles as they slowly stopped crying out in alarm.

I clenched my teeth harder still, then drew back. The hawser groaned -- and the statue inched upwards. Then I drew back again, my body trembling. I felt my magics fading...and then a hand touched the hawser behind me. A slave, his body brawny from long days in hard service, had stepped up to stand behind me, his eyes wide. Shining.

I grinned at him. "Let's show them what we can do," I hissed. The golden spark seemed to leap from me to him -- and the slave grabbed onto the hawser more. More began to run forward. Commoners too -- even nobles leaping from the platforms on our side of the clearing. They lined up behind me and I pulled -- and the statue rose more and more. The men and women on the rope began to chant -- but there was no crack of the whip, no beating of the slave drum.

There was just one word.

"Ia! Ia! Ia! Ia! Ia! Ia!"

Praise him. Praise him.

The statue stood -- and then crashed home, the feet sinking into their sockets. And yet, as the three hundred yard tall golden statue of the Regent seemed to stand high above the city -- for a moment, all who stood in the clearing looked up and saw another statue. A statue standing three thousand yards tall, hands upon its hips.

A statue of me.

The image faded -- and I realized the people around me were still chanting, pumping their fists into the air. "Ia! Ia! Ia! Ia! Ia! Ia!"

My eyes widened. "No! No! Don't-"

But the Regent was already standing. I saw no lips move -- but a voice louder than the gods boomed out.

"Kill them. All of them."

The crowd around me stopped their chanting - but it was too late. The guards that had protected the nobles stepped forward. They held spears -- short, stabbing spears with glowing sunsteel tips -- in an over the shoulder posture, made for stabbing and thrusting. Their other arms held small shields, with snarling dragons carved onto them. I started to step forward, but before I could do anything, the guards thrust those spears. Despite standing about twenty paces from the crowd, men and women began to fall, blood streaming from wounds. Slaves showed them clearly, their almost naked bodies punctured with deep, stabbing impacts. But nobles stumbled as well, their finery becoming soaked through with blood.

"No!" I shouted.

The guards thrust again -- and the invisible wave of wounds rippled along the next rank of men and women and even children. But worse, the crowd was beginning to panic. Men and women and others ran in every direction. People were bowled over and trampled underneath the stampede.

The guards thrust again.

More fell.

My voice felt so very pitifully small in the roaring of the crowd. I tried to reach out with my magic, to fill my voice with the crack of command that could make even fae queens listen to me. Instead, my anima dimmed -- all the magic drained from me by the display at the statue. The guards thrust again and the line of men and women ahead of me fell, clutching at their wounds. But despite that, I saw a half dozen slaves, still standing, hurrying to move between me and the guards.

"Go, Unconquered!" the man who had stood beside me on the line said. "Flee! Go!"

"No!" I grabbed his hand.

The guards stabbed.

I jerked the slave forward, leaping past him, and swept out my leg in an arcing kick. My blow struck the invisible blades of force that those spears sent flying through the air with a rattling clang. The air filled with sparks and the guards hesitated as my animal flickered to life again. I landed and the guards raised their spears, then thrust at me. I punched an invisible blade out of the air, twisted away from another, ducked low -- but a third sliced along my forearm. Dark red blood dripped down my red skin and I panted, heavily, trying to think of what to do.

The answer came in the form of a fusion between a woman and a shark that was nearly twelve feet tall.

Xora, her body rippling with muscles, stood from behind the guards. Her head had swelled to be nearly her entire torso -- a smooth fusion of shark's head and a human's form. Her fingers were tipped with massive claws and her muzzle dripped with spittle. She reached down, grabbing two guards and lifting them over her head, then bringing them smashing down into the formation -- bowling over dozens of more. Chirp in their small bat form landed on my shoulder.

"We have to go! Now!" They hissed.

I was not about to argue. "Xora!" I shouted.

Xora nodded -- then kicked a few dozen men flying through the air -- before she shrank down, vanishing from sight again. Then I turned and ran. But I saw the slave who had stood beside me vanishing into the milling crowd.

I didn't feel any better.

***

"Well, you started a riot, got a few hundred people killed, and tipped off the Regent that you exist," June said, her voice dripping with acid. "All in all, I'd say that that was a one hundred percent successful mission! Great job, Ember!"

"June!" Chirp hissed.

"Oh, no, we can't sugar coat this for him," June snapped. I could hear the whip crack of her tail. "The Unconquered has a huge responsibility -- he has to use his powers to help people. Well, guess what, if you have that much power, and you use it wrong, things get fucked up. Ember-"

"Ember did the right thing."

The voice that spoke was the last one I had expected.