Freelance Heroics (13 page)

Casters could eat. They could eat a
lot
. Not all the time—if they don’t cast a lot, they’re no different from the manaless, and over the short term they can even make do with less food, thanks to rejuvenation magick. But using mana burns a lot of calories—and that’s not even counting the crazy physical feats enhancement enables. Casters may be worth multiple manaless soldiers in a fight, but they didn’t cost any less to feed.

None of them spoke while they ate. In between shoveling food into his mouth and grumbling about his sore muscles, Mazik’s mind numbly went over the night before.

After their run-in with the Blue Boar, the sixth squad spent the rest of the battle in search of more orcks. They took out only one more, and were rushing to help another squad which was fighting three of them, when the attack suddenly ended.

Mazik stuck most of a chicken leg in his mouth and tore meat off the bone. He remembered the three orcks coming into view, the squad they were fighting looking like children next to them. He had been preparing a spell when the orcks suddenly stopped, one in mid-swing. They had cocked their heads to the side, seemingly listening . . . and then withdrew.

Apparently the same thing had happened across the city. The orcks had been called off. Their commander’s orders, Mazik assumed. He picked the drumstick clean and grabbed another.

“How are you feeling this morning, Gavs?” he asked between bites. “Did Rae’s magick do the trick, or do you need some more regen time?”

Gavi flexed her shoulders, twisted her hips, and generally probed her injuries. “I’m fine. A little more rest would be helpful, but I’ll be good to go by tonight. It shouldn’t interfere with practice later on, either.”

“You know, that’s what I like about you,” said Mazik, brandishing the leg at her. “When you say that, I can trust you. You don’t go in for stupid bravado. Unlike some people we know.”

“You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?” asked Raedren.

Mazik grinned. “At least I’m aware of my failings, right? My awesome, amazing failings.”

“I don’t think it counts if you don’t do anything about them. And actively take pride in them. And brag about them.”

“Eh, I give myself half credit.”

“We should ask after the others in the squad when we check in with Sergeant Redsna,” said Gavi. “Maybe Rae could help them out too.”

“I agree,” said Raedren.

Mazik nodded, pausing to shovel forkfuls of vegetables and rice in his mouth. The sixth had ended the night in fairly good shape. Only three people sustained moderate injuries, and they had no casualties. Compared to other squads, they had gotten off light. And what they saw of the main force was even worse.

It’s going to be hard to keep this up.
Mazik chewed thoughtfully. Then he glowered at another thought. He set his fork down. “But, can you believe that Boar guy?”

“Mmm?” Gavi chewed and swallowed. “What about him?”

“I can’t believe they let a guy like him run around.” Mazik scowled. “Aren’t there usually laws against people like him?”

“What, vigilantes?” asked Gavi. “I’m not sure you’d like those kinds of laws. It’s kind of what we do.”

“Not so. We accept legitimate quests from appropriate parties. Sometimes we just”—Mazik waved a hand vaguely—“have to complete the quest before we’re sure it exists. But it still does!”

“Speculative questing. Hopefully that won’t catch on,” said Raedren.

“I just didn’t like him. He was a sanctimonious jerk. Did you hear what he was going on about at the end there?” Mazik was referring to the second time they saw the Blue Boar, during the orcks’ retreat. “All justice this, justice that. And that ridiculous costume! What a walking cliché.”

“But he was calling for everyone to chase after the orcks, just like you wanted to,” said Gavi. She pointed at Mazik with a roll. “Plus, he was pretty good. It looked like he was fighting that first orck one-on-one, and winning.”

Mazik grunted. “Granted. I just wish he wasn’t so . . .” He searched for the word. “Silly. Ridiculous. Fuckin’ stupid. It makes the rest of us look bad.”

“What, fellow vigilantes?” Gavi smirked.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” Mazik threw his hands up. Gavi’s smile widened. “I just don’t like him. I don’t have problem with him doing shit for free, but everything else annoys me. I mean, who puts on a tight leather outfit and fights an invasion by themselves?”

Gavi raised her hand. “I do. To the first part, at least.” She patted her thigh. “Not all over like him, but a bit. Though my armor isn’t as tight as his, either.”

Mazik glared at her. She smiled back prettily. Mazik resorted to glowering at the world in general.

Their waiter came over to clean up evidence of the trio’s breakfast slaughter and to deliver more sacrifices. Gavi wiped her mouth and waved him over. “Excuse me. Are you busy at the moment?”

“Not yet. Be a few more before the lunch rush begins.” The waiter settled his stack of dishes on the table. “What can I get you?”

“Could you tell us about the Blue Boar?” asked Gavi. “Like, why he dresses up and does what he does.”

While Mazik continued grumbling, the waiter leaned against a vacant chair. He folded his arms. “From what I know, he grew up at Loath’m Orphanage, this big orphanage on the south side of town. His parents were killed when he was young, in a robbery or something. So he mostly was raised there. As for why he dresses up, it’s supposed to have started because of this one trip. The caretakers at Loath’m like to take their kids out on excursions. To get them acclimated to the world, ya know? Well, apparently, this one time they took the kids camping, and little Ravelin—his name is Ravelin Bilay, by the way.”

Gavi nodded. “We heard.”

“Little Ravelin got lost, broke his leg, and was cornered by a hungry wolf.”

“Wow. Bad night,” said Mazik, though he didn’t sound like he believed the story itself.

“The way he tells it, he thought he was going to die, when all of a sudden this boar charges in and attacks the wolf. Apparently it drove the wolf off. And, instead of attacking the kid too, as you might expect, it left.” The waiter shrugged. “He says he was impressed by the boar’s courage, so he decided to dedicate his life to protecting the weak like it had protected him. He trained up, worked out, and years later, he made his debut as the Blue Boar.”

“Where’s the blue come from?” asked Gavi.

The waiter shrugged. “No idea. I don’t think anyone does.”

“That story doesn’t make sense,” said Mazik. “Why would a boar charge a wolf that wasn’t threatening it? And if its piglets were nearby or something, why wouldn’t it have chased off the kid too?”

The waiter shrugged again. “No idea. I don’t think anyone much believes the story, but that guy seems to.”

“So now he runs around in a stupid costume, defending the city,” said Mazik.

“Usually, it’s more like fighting crime,” said the waiter. “Some people call him the Great Detective, since he’s apparently so good at tracking people down. I think the city guard have used his help a few times.”

“Glad to see he’s versatile,” said Mazik.

“Thank you,” Gavi said to the waiter. “By the way, do we pay you, or should we pay the master?”

“Either is fine,” said the waiter, tearing a bill off his order pad. “Though the master, for preference.”

While their waiter departed and everyone dug out their coin purses, Mazik glanced at the bar. Their waiter had stopped at the bar and began talking to another waiter, a cute redhead with an upturned nose and an earnest smile. It jogged Mazik’s memory.

“Enough talking about that superhero idiot,” said Mazik. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Rae, I saw you getting along pretty well with that other support yesterday. Ward, was it?”

“Uard,” said Raedren immediately. He winced.

Mazik’s eyes danced. “So you
are
interested in her.” Mazik prodded Raedren with his elbow. “Come on, why don’t you ask her out? We’ll probably be in town for a few days. You two might hit it off.”

“That’s okay.” Raedren stood up, enough money for his part of the bill in his outstretched hand. “Everyone ready? I’ll go pay.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do that,” said Mazik, deftly scooping the coins out of Raedren’s hand. Mazik made no move to stand. “You sure you don’t want to talk to the support lady? You two seemed to be getting along well.”

“It’s fine. We just worked well together, that’s all.”

Mazik stared at him for a second. He nodded toward the bar. “If not her, what do you think about the redhead at the bar? The one talking to our waiter.”

Raedren glanced over. “She’s attractive.”

“Why don’t you go talk to her? She seems like your type.”

Raedren shrugged and said nothing.

Mazik frowned. “Is something wrong? I know it’s early in the day, but it’s worth a shot. I’d be happy to help you break the ice.”

“It’s fine,” said Raedren again. “I need to hit the toilet. I’ll be back.”

Mazik continued frowning as Raedren headed for the back door. “What the hell was that about?”

Gavi deposited her part of the bill in Mazik’s upturned hand. “Just let it go. If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to. There’s no reason to push him, or to inconvenience her.” She glanced at the redhead waiter. “She’s working, you know. It’s annoying to be hit on when you’re working.”

“Of course,” said Mazik, distracted. Then he remembered Gavi’s previous job. He shook his head, as if shaking loose mental cobwebs. “Yeah, sorry. Wasn’t thinking. That was just odd, is all. He’s usually willing to give it a shot if I offer to help, and he’s already talked to the support lady, so he should be fine there.”

Gavi shrugged, though she did steal a glance at the door Raedren had left through, her brow crinkled.

The trio found Sergeant Redsna where they had met him the day prior, in the paperwork pit. This time, the pit was crowded. There were coppers at every desk, rushing through reports, eating lunch, or stealing a quick break before they went out again to deal with a city on the edge of panic. Mazik, Gavi, and Raedren wove their way through the crowd to the comparatively quiet corner where Sergeant Redsna sat.

“Good afternoon!” said Mazik with a cheerful wave.

If Mazik’s familiarity annoyed Redsna, he didn’t let it show. “Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

“We’re here to check in.” Mazik settled into one of the chairs across from the sergeant. Gavi did likewise, resting her sword against the side. Raedren leaned against the desk behind them, his arms crossed, inadvertently looming. “How did we do last night? How are your injuries?”

Sergeant Redsna marked something on the report in front of him and flipped it over. He carefully set down his pencil before looking up. “My injuries are fine. And yours, Mis Ven’Kalil?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Gavi bowed, smiling politely. “I was sore this morning, but Mas Moro used to work at a regeneration clinic, so he helped me heal. I feel better than I probably have any right to,” she added with a warm laugh.

“I’d be happy to do the same for you or anyone else, by the way,” said Raedren.

“I’ll see if there’s anyone who could use your help.” Sergeant Redsna turned back to Mazik. “As for your other question, we pulled through. Losses were within expectations. We should be able to continue until reinforcements arrive.”

“What are we really talking about here, Sarge?” Mazik leaned forward, resting his arms on Sergeant Redsna’s desk. “Big losses? Not too bad? If we’re going to be doing this dance again tonight, we have a right to know.”

Sergeant Redsna looked like he had some choice things to say about their “rights” in this matter, but he held his tongue. He stared at Mazik for a long, awkward moment—though it didn’t feel awkward to Mazik. He held the sergeant’s gaze cheerfully, intimidation sliding off Mazik’s slick salesman façade.

“Estimates put the enemy forces last night at between seventy and eighty warriors,” said Sergeant Redsna, selecting a report from a pile on his desk. “Counting combat losses alone, we lost approximately one hundred and ten people. Slightly less than half of those came from the rapid response force; the other half came from the defenders originally posted on the walls, most of whom died before we arrived. Among the RRF, most of the casualties were from the units which fought in the square. In squads like ours, where odds were rarely worse than five-to-one, performance was better. And sarge is a type of fish, look it up. Call me Sergeant.”

Mazik help up his hands, his lips twitching as he stifled a smile. “Aye aye, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Redsna let the report flutter to his desk. “Of course, that doesn’t count non-combatants or the injured, though as far as serious injuries go, we didn’t have many.” Sergeant Redsna smiled tightly. “Orcks aren’t known for leaving enemies alive.”

Mazik’s expression sobered. “And how many orcks were killed? I know we took out four ourselves.”

“We were the most productive squad. A number of squads spent most of the battle searching, and only fought one or two enemies. Last I heard, orck kills were around twenty-five confirmed.”

Mazik did the math. It took him a while, and involved surreptitiously counting on his fingers under the desk, but he got there.
Twenty five percent losses for us, thirty some-odd for them, counting the main forces only. But that’s still one hundred people dead overall, in exchange for twenty-five orcks.
“Their leader is still alive, I assume?”

“As far as we know. Two squads reported seeing her, but nobody claimed a kill.”

“And you’re really sure we’re going to be able to keep this up?” asked Mazik.

“Our forces are reduced, but so are theirs. Their numbers last night match our new projections for their total estimated forces, after what we learned from the failed operation yesterday afternoon. That means yesterday should be the worst we’ll see.” Sergeant Redsna’s chair creaked as he leaned back, his arms folded. “As long as they don’t get reinforcements before we do, we should be fine—and considering how far they are from orck lands, and that our scouts haven’t seen anything, that seems likely.”