The Old City

0.13: Interference

"Don't make me ask again," Marek threatened.

"I'm nobody, I don't even want to be here," Seneca answered truthfully. "I'm only here so that idiot doesn't get himself killed."

"You can't stop that monster. My strongest fighters were to engage him, but he wasn't in the right place. He is going to kill us all. All my men here could do nothing. He pursued us and we could not even push him back once."

"Run if you like, but you'll miss the show. That's not even a fullblood giant."

Clouds darkened above as a mid-morning storm reared its head.

***

Marcus flipped his halberd away from the giant and flicked his wrist, slamming its butt into Granada's chest. The giant stumbled back, and a new expression colored his face: surprise. But behind that shock, gears turned in his mind.

Granada bent down and dug his fingers into the ground. He lifted one of the heavy tiles that covered the pavilion, hefted it over his head and threw it at Marcus. As the mage dodged the first projectile, a second and third came hurling his way, cutting off his escape routes. Instead, he brought his weapon about once more and with no fear for its blade, sliced the enormous tile speeding toward him in half.

He doesn't want me to get close...well, he's half-right.

Resuming a sturdy stance, Marcus wound the halberd back once more and focused on the giant, who lifted another tile as a shield, ready to defend his strike even though they stood now twenty yards apart.

"Fortorging terroxin!" The blade heated up and burst into a thick flame. Marcus swung heavily, tracing in deep orange an arc that extended over his head and through Granada. The blade came down with such force it sliced through the tile underfoot and ended behind Marcus once again.

That arc of flame exploded forward and crashed into the defensive tile, which shattered upon impact. Granada reacted quickly, throwing his arms in the way of the flames to protect his face. The remnants of the arc continued behind, singeing the buildings at the rear of the pavilion before fizzling out as soft droplets began to fall from above.

Granada assessed his healing wounds. The race of giants has the highest resistance to magic of all the known races and Marcus knew a stronger spell would be needed to break through.

As he contemplated his next move, Marcus felt a sharp pain on his right side. He looked down to see two arrows protruding from his bicep, blood trickling down his sleeve. He scanned the perimeter and caught the tail of a cloak as two figures hid behind a disheveled building.

Seneca was already moving when he turned to point him in that direction. The archers knocked and fired more arrows his way, but Seneca blocked them deftly and the hollow shafts fell harmlessly to the ground. His speed stunned them and they fumbled with the remaining arrows in their quivers. Upon them now, the haunted man rammed the butt of his blade into their heads and they collapsed, one gasping for breath and the other unconscious.

Marcus pulled the arrows from his arm and dropped them. His halberd shivered in his hand, emboldened.

"Fire magic won't work against him!" Marek shouted, watching in awe as the fight continued. "I will give you a thousand gold Kaits if you can kill that man and join me."

"We are not for sale," Seneca responded, sauntering back to the Gang Lord.

"The little man is right," Granada growled. "These burns will heal by sunset. You will not be so lucky."

The giant roared once more and every window around the pavilion shattered. Marcus had to cover his ears and in that second, Granada was on top of him. His ferocious fist collided into Marcus's chest and the would-be savior flew backward, crashing into buildings that crumbled under the pressure.

Seneca's eyes widened and his whole body tensed as his magic ignited down his nervous system. He shimmered in front of Granada and hit him with the flat of his sword, pushing him several feet backward, then positioned himself between the giant and Marcus.

The tactician had absorbed every detail from their fight. His eyes and ears and nose were his weapons as much as his blade. He had formulated ten plans that would fell the giant, but before he could take another step, he heard heavy breathing behind him and the shifting of rubble and turned.

Marcus clawed his way to the top of the debris, shifting blocks of the fallen building to the side. When he freed himself, his chest heaved, gasping for air and a barrier made of blue aura shattered. He had a cut on his forehead and blood trickled into his left eye, but it seemed the building had taken more damage than he had.

"Stay back, Seneca. He's mine."

He staggered down from the pile and assumed a new position, legs spread wide with muscles coiled, ready to strike, his halberd pointed directly at Granada like a fang bared. A soft blue light dripped from the blade, falling and evaporating upward against the rain. Granada struck a similar stance, his left arm in front to defend and his right cocked back and tensed.

"Didn't you hear your friend?" Granada shouted. "Your Fire magic won't work."

"I'm not an Elementalist."

Thunder clapped in the distance and the two fighters crashed into each other, shimmering at top speed. A wave of energy exploded from the point of contact between Marcus's halberd and Granada's fist. They hung in a temporary suspension, each struggling to gain an advantage but both wills unwilling to take even one step backward.

Then the halberd shivered again, vibrating ever so slightly such that Granada, though he was touching it, would not have noticed.

But Marcus did. And he smiled.

The halberd was no ordinary weapon. It was a temperamental thing, unwilling to lend its strength to most. Even to Marcus, the blade often did not comply.

But when it did, their combined strength was a thing to behold.

It shimmered again and Marcus called out its name for the first time, drawing out all the energy it would lend.

"Pierce! Schnitter!"

The blade grew sharper and suddenly their stalemate was broken.

With a push, Marcus sliced through Granada's hand and gashed his right side, cutting through the giant's thick skin and leaving a deep impression. He brought the butt of the halberd into Granada's chest and bent him over, holding him against the ground.

Marek could not believe his eyes, but his mouth was already running. "Kill him! I'll give you fifteen hundred Kaits!"

The giant gasped for air and tried to stem the bleeding. An uncommon emotion flashed across his face; Granada was scared.

Marcus lifted his weapon and walked away, meeting Seneca by Marek. He tore at his sleeve and dabbed the cut in his forehead to clear his vision. "I'm not a murderer. I just couldn't let you fools to wreak any more damage in this city."

"Fine, then I'll do it myself."

Marek rose but Marcus placed his halberd between him and the giant. "Lick your wounds, Gang Lord, and they will do the same. I'm gonna make the First Ring a safer place and my plan doesn't involve killin' everyone I disagree with."

Marcus flicked his head and Seneca followed him out. He caught the heated glance of an Enforcer on the pavilion's periphery but ignored them. Seneca kept one eye on the battlefield as they walked away, nervous that Marek would turn and try to fight.

"You know you just pissed off two of the most powerful organizations in the First Ring? What was the point?"

"The point was to make a scene. People will hear of the fight, of course. They will hear that I don't intend to cause fear, that I'm not a murderer, that I seek peace. Then they will come."

"Come and do what?"

"Revolt."