WM [3] Man of The People

There was an explosion of motion as the people once again prepared to move. Children were loaded into Tanisha’s wagon. The wooden merchant’s wagon had seen better days; the escape from the inner city had left it blackened from spells. Owen’s horses pulled the wagon, and until Thorfinn showed up, they could only move it at night. This time, they were making a mad dash to the closest gate.

Bjorn also had to sit in the wagon since he stuck out too much in a crowd. He quickly jumped into the open tailgate and saw the faces of children who had all come to know him over the past month. A couple of women and an elderly couple rode in the wagon. Everyone was exhausted physically and emotionally, but what caught Bjorn’s attention were the hollow faces of Owen, Wyatt, and Caleb as they nestled into one corner quietly.

Thorfinn, who now looked like any random traveler, looked around; even his voice had changed. “Patriarch, you should ride inside as well. We don’t want anyone identifying you.”

“Hand Woot, I have to keep watch. These are my people,” Tyr stated, his voice tired but firm.

“You have already done that. Now I need to do my job to make sure you all get out alive,” Thorfinn replied, glancing around. “You have done a damn good job keeping these people alive. So, let’s not trip up when we are so close to getting you out.”

Tyr walked up to Thorfinn; his eyes narrowed as he peered deeply into the Hand’s eyes. They were not his natural eyes; he used magic to change his appearance, but it didn’t matter. At that moment, Tyr was not some kid given the title of Patriarch of his people. He was the head of the in every sense of the word. His gaze carried loss, defeat, and profound defiance against the impossible odds he faced.

“Do I have your word you will keep everyone here safe?” Tyr said, his voice lost its hostility and almost sounded pleading. “If you can guarantee that, I will do whatever you say.”

Thorfinn reached out his hand, and Tyr looked at it for a long moment. He took a deep breath, and the two tightly clasped each other’s forearms.

“Patriarch of the Isi, Tyr Isi, you have my word,” Thorfinn said with every bit of confidence a Royal Hand possessed. “I wondered what I would find when I met you. You are a true man of the people.”

Tyr looked around at the remaining Isi disciples; only six remained, ready for the final push out of the city. Thorfinn turned his attention to Joha and Tanisha, who watched him closely.

“And as for you two demons, can you both change your appearance… uh?” Thorfinn rolled his hand as if trying to recall their names.

“It’s Sif, and no,” Tanisha responded. “I am not a rakshasa like my partner Joha.”

“Then I recommend you also stay in the wagon, Miss Sif,” Thorfinn stated. “You have a target on your head after what happened to Thyra.”

“You know that much?” Joha asked.

“The Royal Family has its methods of obtaining information. The death of a Noble Hand is of no concern of mine right now,” Thorfinn stated coldly. “I do not know how much you two know of Wendigo customs, but she died in the Salstar’s failed Show of Power. While she will be missed on the battlefield against the druids, we won’t shed any tears for her here.”

Joha bellowed red maya that surrounded him in a cloud. When it dissipated, he looked like a short human worker with sunburnt skin.

“We will talk when this is over,” Tanisha said to Joha as she walked over to the wagon.

The bay doors were open in moments, and the wagon took off with as much speed as the horses could muster. Thorfinn drove the speeding vehicle as they sped out of the warehouse district. Joha and the six Isi Defenders ran, flash-stepped, and Blinked to keep up with the speedy craft.

Should the need arise, Bjorn, Tanisha, and Tyr sat at the wagon’s rear, ready to jump out immediately. Tensions were high now that they were on the last stretch of the hellish journey. Everyone felt they would be attacked by Darkness Constructs or knights any second. Once they finally exited the warehouse district, everyone breathed a little easier.

The outer city streets were always bustling; however, there was barely a soul this time. Bjorn could taste an unfamiliar magic in the air and frantically looked out for the source. His sudden alertness put Tanisha and Tyr back on edge.

“Your familiar is very astute,” Thorfinn yelled over the sound of the speeding wagon. “There is no need to worry about that magic. An associate of mine is using it to clear the way for us.”

“A Psionic Mage?” Tanisha questioned, only loud enough for Bjorn and Tyr to hear. “They’re real?”

Tyr looked puzzled. “A what now?”

“Psionic magecraft is a theoretical magic,” Tanisha explained. “It would be a super-specific specialization subset of Animal Control or Taming magic. Essentially, it is the mental manipulation of people. Usually, someone’s magic or material would prevent this with sentient beings.”

“That sounds terrifying. You can’t even trust your own mind if that is the case,” Tyr said, looking out into the nearly empty streets. “Hopefully, this isn’t that.”

The trip drifted off into silence after those words, as silent as a wagon full of people going full speed down a brick road could be. Bjorn kept his head on a swivel for any new magics being used. After a few minutes, Tanisha squeezed through the cramped space to sit with Owen and his children.

“Are you going to give me control of the right head?” Failsafe said in Bjorn’s mind. “I can help you look out for any traps.”

“Not right now. It is easier to taste magic when I have all three heads,” Bjorn responded. “Be ready if things heat up.”

The trip went smoothly; traffic picked up as whatever magic was being suddenly infused into the environment could not work on so many people. The magic was a gentle push for someone to get out of the road or take a different street for a few minutes. It could affect a large number of people but not everyone equally. The small caravan had to swerve to avoid slow-moving wagons, carts, and the occasional pedestrian.

Bjorn saw a random man get tackled to the ground by someone he didn’t know. The attacker stabbed the man rapidly, only for the stabbed man to turn into darkness and burn away. The attacker vanished into an alley, and no one else saw it. Until that moment, he had no idea they were being pursued.

Bjorn instantly alerted Tanisha through the familiar bond. He couldn’t talk through the bond; he could only send emotions through it. She responded immediately, quickly returning to the wagon’s rear and sitting beside him.

“Bjorn saw something,” Tanisha whispered to Tyr so they wouldn’t alert anyone.

Tyr looked at her and nodded. “I think I saw it too. Loki is around here somewhere. Stay al—”

A loud crash rang out as the street shook with a heavy impact. The wagon swerved heavily with a bevy of curses from those running outside. The wagon barely kept two of its four wheels on the ground as Thorfinn made an extremely sharp turn into an alley at the last minute.

Bjorn and Tanisha leaned their heads out of the wagon for a second to see a giant dragon, easily the size of Thrand, had landed on the road. It took up nearly the entire route and would have been tearing into them had a shield of pure light not popped into being. The creature roared in outrage as its wings flapped, and it shot into the sky with hurricane-level winds, shattering the windows of nearby buildings.

Tanisha’s eyes widened, and Bjorn could taste the exact moment her emotions shifted from surprise to abject rage. He knew she wanted to jump out and attack right then and there. Thankfully, her rational mind kept her from doing anything foolish. However, whether intentional or not, she breathed out her sparkly green seiðr.

“That was Viggo. Ingrid is here,” Tanisha said, more a growl than words.

“Everyone stay close! No one engages; my people will defend you!” Thorfinn yelled, but he sounded almost giddy. “It would appear the Sword of the Salstar House has descended. Now we can embarrass them to their face.”

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