Chapter 8: Rebellion II

The carts laden with ill-got bounty arrived at midday, each with a contingent of soldiers to guard them, and they were loaded periodically onto the Imperial-marked ship. A small crowd had gathered to watch, fuming, but the sight of pristine steel weapons held them back.

"Is it time?"

Ikharos glanced up. The skies were a sharp shade of orange. The sun was falling away. Perfect. "It is. Come."

He circled around the restricted area, keeping buildings and crowds in between them and the sightlines of the Imperials, and made it to the dock directly north. A huge keep, the Imperial bastion within Kuasta, had walls to keep out the locals and connected to the port where the Imperial ship laid. The mob hadn't spread that way. The sharpened metal points topping the walls dissuaded any from attempting to vault them. It also had the effect of necessitating fewer guards, with most having been reassigned at the port for the precarious job of loading Kuasta's wealth aboard the cargo vessel.

Ikharos looked around, then cloaked himself. He Blinked across the wall and walked up behind a yawning guard. He grabbed the man and put him in a choke hold, gripping tight. The soldier gave a strangle yelp and struggled, but Ikharos only let go when he stopped struggling. He carefully leaned the unconscious guard against a wall and moved onto the next guard, and then the next, and the next, until half a dozen were out cold. Once the ramparts were clear he redirected the Void into something more physical, lathering the matter-venom over the wall. Stone and metal melted to slag - popping and crackling like burning wood - and fell away. Ikharos snatched away the hungry power as soon as he had made a small gap, enough to fit a human through.

Edmont was hesitant about it, but he was the first one to brave the hole, slipping through and drawing a knife on the other side. Kuirst came next, and then Tainvay, all looking at the Warlock expectantly.

"What next?" The sailor-turned-rebel (i.e. Edmont) asked.

Ikharos spun around on his heel and began walking in the direction of the port. The huge hulk wasn't the only ship the Imperials had, but their focus on it meant there was just a skeleton crew keeping watch on the others. A small sharp-nosed knarr caught their eye, close to the keep, and it was the unanimous choice. The Voidwalker brought the cloak back, trying his best to cover them all while instructing them to stay close. It kept them out of sight, but only muffled their sounds, so there was the added risk of a rebel being unintentionally loud. They had to give what Imperials they found a wide berth, but there thankfully weren't any complications. Kuirst had almost tripped, though Tainvay had roughly grabbed the young man before he could fall and kept him on course.

The knarr had three guards. Ikharos brought the rebels to a pile of crates, left them there to hide, and took care of the Imperials. It was ridiculously easy. If it had been Fallen, they would have detected him within minutes at most. Humans were a dishearteningly simpler matter.

Edmont ran down the gangplank as soon as the coast was clear and looked around. "Would ye look at this beaut…"

"Can you sail it?" Kuirst asked.

"Of course. As long as you do as yer told."

"Ah, feck," Tainvay cursed. "I get seasick."

"Then why'd you volunteer?"

"I thought the wizard could do something about it..."

"Seasickness is beyond me," Ikharos told them. "But count yourself lucky you haven't experienced warp sickness. I've heard vomit and zero-g environments don't mix."

"What?"

"It's... nothing."

"Look!" Kuirst half-yelled, half-whispered. His finger pointed further down the port. The sails of the hulk had been raised halfway, allowing the weak gales to catch it, and a dozen rows of oars sprouted out to clear it away from land. It was slow but purposeful, a creature of immense physical strength powering over the water at a steady pace. "There must be an army in there!"

The Warlock frowned. "Psekisk."

"What?"

"Get the oars," Edmont ordered.

"No," Ikharos said. "Sails. I'll give us wind."

"But... fine. Sails. Come on lads, let's get to it."

They required a few minutes to drop the sails, but it was necessary. The Warlock's Light was running low and he needed a brief pause to consolidate it. He could give them a gale, but from then on he'd be restricted to Void, which would make seizing the ship... tricky. He drew his knife as Xiān put him back in his Braytech suit, and his sight trailed over the Hunter symbol, as well as the symbol of a drawn bow etched above it.

Ikharos called the faintest smidge of a storm to him. The winds swept in, stronger than they should have been but scraping the bare minimum of what he had desired. Edmont cut the ropes holding them to the pier and the ship practically shot away. A faint cry raised up behind them, but it was too late for the Imperials to stop them. They raced off over the waters, spent half an hour sailing to the cove north of the city, and wasted another fifteen minutes as rebels waded out to board their stolen vessel. Rendan clapped him on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, and left the surprised Guardian to help Edmont bring order to the confused band of out-of-comfort-zone guerrilla fighters. Then they were off, his drained sway over Arc accelerating them fast to the growing shape of the cargo ship.

A bell was rung on the uppermost deck of the hulk as the lookouts spotted the knarr, but by that point they were in range. Ikharos Blinked onto the deck of the huge vessel, not hesitating to grab the guard making the racket and slamming him face first into the mast. The other guards shouted in surprise, but he was already among them, striking with deadly precision, each hit breaking bones and tossing men out of the fight. One tried to grapple his arms from behind, but it was almost comically slow to his Light-sharpened-senses and he Blinked once more, his willpower as much a weapon as his guns. He kicked the soldier, hard, sending the poor guy tumbling. A sword came at him, so he took his knife and sliced through it and then the offending hand.

A now familiar nagging sensation pulled at his attention, and the Warlock turned on the robed mage responsible with a vengeance, his mind ripping the magician a new one. That Imperial he used a palm strike on, unleashing an Atomic Breach to completely eradicate the wicked creature. The other soldiers stopped fighting at that point. They froze up and stared with openly frightened eyes.

"Off," Ikharos growled. They were quick to obey. A smart few tossed over a rowboat, but some just dove into the cold waters below.

"Ger' off!" He heard from below. The Warlock, curious, glanced over the side just as Edmont kicked a drenched soldier from the side of the knarr. "Swim back to yer nests, water rats!"

Ikharos shook his head and delved deeper into the ship as the rebels started to align the boats, finding more soldiers coming his way, attracted by the noise. Some he fought in swift one-sided brawls, but others saw the sense in dropping their weapons. He gave them the same message he had given the others. They scurried off to comply. He continued on, to the row galley, where he knew many more awaited his judgement.

He entered the room and someone tried to shank him. Ikharos broke the hand that held the knife, then sunk it into the soldier's heart. Another rose behind him, so he just conjured the Void around his flattened hand and sharpened it, stabbing the makeshift blade of angry violet energy into the Imperial's abdomen.

He expected more fights, but none came. No, two dozen frightened faces stared back at him, belonging to thin men chained to benches. That... he didn't expect.

Slaves.

It wasn't a new concept to him. Bandits and Warlords had employed such tactics, and he had found evidence that the House of Kings did it on occasion (though the humans would only last a few days under the harsh alien captors). Still, in a world as stable as this... but then again, it was gripped in a Warlord's stability, wasn't it?

Ikharos waved his hand and the Void lashed, snapped the manacles holding the slaves down. They flinched and scrambled away, but he made no further move. Instead, he gave them a message: "You're free now. There are rebels here."

A clatter from behind. Tainvay emerged with a bloodied sword pilfered from one body or another, took in the sight before him, and nodded. "It's your lucky day! We're here to save yer arses!"

Satisfied the rebel had it under control, Ikharos left to check the other cabins and decks. A few Imperials hid about, and a small group even barricaded a door, but the Warlock dealt with them all with cold efficiency. The ship was theirs.

They brought the ships to a small hidden bay far to the northwest of the city, along the colossal headland dominated by a branching limb of the Spine. Both ships, knarr and hulk, were a success in and of themselves, both as symbols and as resources, but the addition of the stolen goods and the freed slaves made it all the sweeter. They carried the cargo to shore with the knarr and two remaining rowboats, as the hulk was too large to come any closer than where it had been set down its anchor. Kuirst raided the captain's cabin with a few others, killed the Imperial officer hiding there, and brought out the collection of expensive wines from far Belatona for their short victory celebration. Ikharos snatched a bottle and nursed it as the night carried on and the rebels laughed and celebrated. The slaves, starved and beaten, were elated to finally be rid of the shackles around their ankles. They practically begged to join the rebels.

Rendan joined the Warlock at the edge of the bay, watching the light of flickering campfires reflect off the calm waters. They stayed there, content with the quiet, until the rebel at last said, "You did well."

"When I give it my word, I keep it," Ikharos replied. "Besides... I think it was the right thing to do."

"You aren't sure, after all you've seen the empire do?" The rebel's eyes boggled in disbelief.

Ikharos shrugged. "I've seen worse and had to go along with it. Where I come from, cruelty is as common as dirt. It's true evil we have to watch for. Not to belittle your struggle, but the empire is small fry."

"Then why are you here, and not fighting your foes in your own land?"

"Because I'm afraid that they - meaning my enemies- might find your land and use it to increase their own power, which would mean the destruction of my people. A lot of things don't add up here, but that's why I have to keep it from them. They are the worst of all living things, the most monstrous things to ever draw breath." He sipped from his bottle. "At the very least, they aren't here yet."

Rendan fixed him with a thoughtful look. "You are strange, but I am glad you fight with us."

"Trust me yet?"

"Dunno yet."

Ikharos chuckled. He clinked their bottles together.

He laid on the cold grass and gazed up at the stars. Xiān chased away the fireflies for a time. She joined him a few hours in. They stayed there for some time, happy to share each other's company, the calm only ever broken by short and mischievous exchanges. Sometimes they didn't need to talk to understand one another. A side effect of working together for centuries. Their relationship wasn't without its hiccups, but they worked well together.

"There's nothing to help us in the Reliquary."

Xiān buzzed around his head. "Sure isn't. But you're going to stick around anyways."

"And why is that?"

"Beeecaaaause you're a big softie. These are nice people and you won't let them die."

"You think so?"

"After Six Fronts, you swallowed your pride and led your people to the safety."

"I didn't have a choice. A Hive Seeder fell on my fortress."

"You protected your people from Devils and renegades all the way to Normandy."

"Not all."

"Holy shit. That's a lot of people. Where'd you even find that many?"

The Warlock glared at the Hunter. "They were mine."

She paused. "Your slaves?"

"My duty."

"Ah, I get it. Cool." She nodded and looked past him, to the extraction point. The refugees, those who could still go on, were being loaded onto Hawks. The others had Warlocks tending to their wounds or treating their illnesses. He'd tried to do it, on the road, but it had been hard. Sometimes he had to choose between using his Light to heal or to destroy. To fix a limb or cut down an incoming Devil. Save a life or destroy a Walker. He could still see her, a desperate mother with a shock dagger sticking in her side. It had torn him apart to leave her for dead.

At least the boy had survived.

Ikharos let out a breath he had been holding in for far too long. For weeks of fighting and leading.

"Where're you off to next? To find another batch?"

The Warlock growled. "There's new beasts in my house. I'm going to kill them."

The Hunter didn't look so comfortable anymore. "I wouldn't go after those critters if I were you. Saint says they're bad news."

"I don't care."

"Geez. Intense much? Listen, this doesn't have to be the end. We all have a duty, whether we like it or not, but we can shoulder it together. What do you say?"

"It won't survive."

"The City?" He could hear the frown in her voice. "Why bring them?"

"There was nowhere else."

"Then why not come along?"

"There's three-eyed freaks on my land. I'm taking it-"

The boy wandered over and hugged his leg, wide-eyed, still terrified of the jumpships. "Können wir jetzt gehen?"

He didn't have an answer for that.

The Hunter laughed. "I think he's decided for you."

Ikharos couldn't argue, as much as he wanted to prove the Hunter wrong. If it took everything he had, he would make sure the child would grow up in safety. "Wir gehen in eine Stadt. Es wird Spaß machen, ja?"

"Ja..."

The Hunter stuck out her hand. Her Ghost appeared over her shoulder, flexing its green shell nervously. "Name's Lennox."

"Go away."

"Nice to meet you, Go Away. This little guy is Gecko."

His own Ghost, prompted by innocent curiosity, materialized and floated forwards for a closer look. The green one flew away. The Hunter found it all very humorous. "Sorry, he's shy. Who are you?"

His Ghost huffed. "Just Ghost."

"Yeah... no offense, but you guys need to work on the name department."

"You get what I mean. You tried to protect them all, in any case. You can do some good here."

"Maybe..." Ikharos trailed off. He was done with talking.

"How will you get this back to the families?" The Warlock asked, looking over all the boxed goods.

"Quietly," Tellesa deadpanned.

"Sounds dangerous."

She gestured to the other non-combatants. "This is how we contribute. We're the link between the people and the Varden."

"What is the Varden?"

"The rebellion as a whole. People from all over hate the empire. Most are forced to flee, but the Varden has agents and organizations all over Alagaësia."

"So all this... is just one of the Varden's cells?"

"Yes."

"Hmm..." Ikharos nodded slowly. "I can see the advantage in that."

"The Imperial stranglehold has tightened." Rendan looked all around at the gathered rebels. "They're inspecting everyone who enters and leaves the city, increasing the village garrisons and road patrols, and declaring that any caught assisting us will be hanged."

Kuirst grinned. "They're getting scared!" A cheer accompanied his statement.

Rendan waited until the noise died. "Maybe. Regardless, it means it will be harder to strike again. Even so, if we pull off another victory, we can show that the Imperials aren't as strong as everyone thinks. We have proper weapons now, and new friends," he nodded in the direction of the former slaves, who were slowly but surely recovering from their time in captivity, "and we have Ikharos. But don't think this has gone unnoticed. The harder we hit them, the more desperate they'll get, and that's dangerous. Everything we do from now on has to be big, has to be precise, and most importantly, has to be successful."

"What can we do?" Someone called from the back.

Rendan grabbed a spear and started sketching out a rough map of the Kuastan area. "Here-" he stabbed the staff down where the city would be. "-is the heart of the Imperial power in the region. The bastion is the very centre of that. That's our end goal. Their control sweeps out-" he drew lines and created more dots to detail major roads and villages. "-all across. If we try and disrupt that, free a village, their army will storm in, kill everyone, and raze it to the ground. But every Imperial operation comes from their home, the bastion. Without it, they'll be lost and directionless."

"We can't hit the city!"

"Not yet. Not without the people. We have their support, but we need their faith. They're too scared to stand against the soldiers. But if we can rally them... an angry mob would occupy the Imperials, distracting them long enough for us to cut off their head. Lord Madlin never leaves the protection of his fortress, thinking it impenetrable, but it will be his greatest and final mistake."

"How do we rally the people?"

Rendan smiled darkly. "I've been speaking with Ikharos about this. We have an idea."

The Warlock forcibly slowed his movements, but he still managed to dart through his opponent's guard and give him a whack.

"OW!" Kuirst complained.

Ikharos stepped back and readied his stance. "Too slow. Again."

The young rebel scowled but picked his staff back up, holding it in the loose two-handed grip the Warlock had taught him. Just because the rebels had swords now didn't mean they knew how to use them. Ikharos was no Shaxx, but he knew how to use a sword. That was a certainty. He had been around when they briefly became popular among Guardians. It was back to guns a few years later, but some kept their old blades, those who understood the power a blade had, how it connected wielder and weapon in a way few firearms ever could.

The rebel moved, predictably. Ikharos met the strike with his own staff, redirected the attack, and slammed the end of the stick as gently as he could into Kuirst's stomach. The rebel still crumpled up, utterly winded.

"Sorry," the Warlock said without meaning it. And he tried to make that as obvious as he could. There was no motivator quite like anger. "And yes, to answer your question, no, we will not fight anyone."

Tellesa crossed her arms. "Why?"

"Our intent is to send a message, not to kill off a few pawns."

"The Imperial army is filled with pawns. They all need to go."

"They won't be pawns of the king if they can't receive his orders. If we manage this right, we'll control the bastion and the port with it, then the city. What Imperials remain will be surrounded by enemies. Most will surrender. I've seen it before."

The Centurion was big, strong, and like all Cabal, more likely to hit first then ask questions. The very best of the brutes liked to hit first, and then maybe hit some more. Ikharos was pretty sure that's how their officers proved themselves worthy of promotion. Still, the Sand Eaters had the intelligence necessary to pin him down with heavy fire before he could activate a Super, while their commander brawled it out with Jaxson. It was a no holds barred fight, full of bone-breaking blows. The guns went forgotten, as the heavily armoured human went for a smackdown with the heavily armoured Cabal.

In the end, it could have only gone one way. Jaxson smashed the big brute's skull in with a red boulder. The gunfire faltered. Ikharos peeked over his cover - a Minotaur carcass - and spotted the formation crumbling. He rose up and, calling upon the Arc, let loose a lightning storm from his hands. Phalanx shields cracked, pressurized suits burst open, and aliens died. Not all, but most.

He fell down onto the ground before the survivors: a Legionary and a Psion. The Psion, somehow the braver of the two, raised its weapon, but the slug rifle spat sparks and refused to fire. The Cabal didn't even have a weapon. His shotgun had shattered in the chaos of the Storm Trance.

Ikharos leveled the barrel of his Zen Meteor with the bigger alien's head.

"Where's the Fallen?" He asked in Ulurant.

"That a way, ser." The Legionary pointed in a vague eastwards direction. "Them's Eliksni started campin' in the ol' factory."

The Psion snapped out something. The high-pitched voice was beyond comprehension, even if it was Ulurant.

"Not now, Samma!" The Cabal scolded.

The Warlock considered the two. "You should never have come to this system. Go on."

The aliens booked it. Cabal never had a word for retreat, supposedly. Humanity had to teach it to them.

"They'll still be dangerous."

"An unorganized force is easy to mop up." Ikharos picked up Kuirst's staff and tossed it to her. She caught it deftly, but looked bewildered as to what next?

"I don't fight."

"If you're so focused on seeing the Imperials slaughtered, you should be prepared to do it yourself. Kuastan independence won't be handed over to you on a silver platter. We all have to get our hands dirty."

Tellesa set her jaw and moved into the same stance Kuirst had. Her brother was still groaning pitifully on the ground, totally ignored. Ikharos stepped over him to begin a mock attack, which she met with steely determination. He feinted next, and she very nearly blocked the third strike, which tapped her on the shoulder.

"A good start. Let's do that again. Never fully invest into offense or defense, or you'll be caught out. The weapon you hold in your hand is an infinitesimal edge, a narrow line between life and death. If you don't balance upon it, you'll fall into the beyond."

Getting into Kuasta for a third time was difficult for the constant searches of every cart and bag, but considering they carried no weaponry, it was easier than it should have been. There was no dallying around now. Rendan led the way, Tainvay and Ikharos following close behind. They marched straight to the ruined Arcaena chapel and waited for midday to roll around, when the city would be busiest. The lead rebel clambered onto the collapsed wall of the stone ruin, took a deep breath, and then began his speech. Ikharos discreetly adjusted how the sound waves traveled with little touches of Arc and Void, furthering how far Rendan's voice carried. It caught attention very quickly. People stopped to listen en masse

"Kuastans!" Rendan yelled. "My dear Kuastans! What has happened to us?! For generations, since our ancestors settled these lands, we kept our peace with one another! We accumulated all knowledge and held it dear! Where is this knowledge, this vast collection of learning?! Where is the Arcaena, who held vigilance over the chapels, to preserve our wisdom?! One day, be it in a few weeks or a few centuries, the end will come and those who remain will need all they can to survive the terrible new lands forged from our ashes, to rebuild anew! Where is it?!"

Someone in the distance shouted. An Imperial soldier, held back by the press of the mob. His voice was mere squeak compared to that of Rendan. Ikharos had ensured that.

"I stand here, on the remains of Kuasta's greatest chapel, its greatest library! Heslant the Monk was killed here, in this very spot, burned at the stake for writing a book! A book! Dead! And at whose feet does this crime ie?! Galbatorix! Galbatorix the Oathbreaker! Galbatorix the Betrayer! Galbatorix the Mad!"

It didn't take long to capture the hearts and minds of everyone around. Men, women and children of all walks of life listened closely, enraptured. The crowd kept growing.

"His dogs have killed our monks! Burned our chapels! Destroyed our ancestor's knowledge! They murdered our Duke! They starve and enslave our people! No more will we stand by! This is Kuasta, our land, our HOME! I will fight until my dying breath to rid our land of the Imperial poison!"

"Out of the way!" An Imperial serjeant, followed by a contingent of soldiers, shouldered through the masses with his sword raised in the air. "OUT of the WAY!"

"Time's up," Ikharos grabbed both rebels by the arm and unleashed his Super, teleporting them far outside the city. Tainvay threw up and Rendan blinked rapidly, but they were all safe and sound.

The rebel leader exhaled nervously. "Do you think that did it?"

"It was full of passion. People like that. Tainvay?"

The man in question coughed. "I..." He resumed emptying his stomach.

Ikharos turned back to Rendan. "See? He likes it."