On Cosmic Tides

George twisted his head to check behind him. The road was empty as far as he could see, so were the plains to either side. He didn’t trust it. No way would they let him go. They were out there. He kept running. The thudding pace of his feet on the road drove every thought out of his mind except his singular goal. Keep going south. Hit Fairtown in a few days. Get on a ship going somewhere else, anywhere else. Make his way to Merista. Throw himself at the mercy of people capable of defending an entire city from a legendary monster, like a children’s story come to life.

It was less than a sliver of hope, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. If he stayed in Laskar they would find him. And then, if he was lucky, he would be forced back into the imperial magehunters. If he was unlucky, well, he wouldn’t be worrying for long. He ran faster. For days he moved south. When he was exhausted he slept on the side of the road in whatever shelter he could find. He stole food or ate the dried rations he’d been able to scrounge together during his escape. Almost there. Another two days and he’d be at Fairtown. A new name and a willingness to take whatever shit job they had would get him on a ship and out of the empire.

He focused, not taking in the scenery and staring off into the middle distance. Despite all that, he was almost too slow when a figure rose up in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere. Just in time, he dove to the right. Tucked into a roll, he heard three shots ring out. Three meant either the last one was still hiding, or they’d sent his old team after him. He thought about saying something, but why bother? It wouldn’t make a difference and they would take the opportunity to gut him anyway. He came out of the roll with his guns in his hands. There was no going back after this.

Daniel was staying back, without a doubt preparing fire bolts to roast him alive. Justin was running straight at him and Chiro was a hazy blur, circling to his left. George pushed his magic towards his eyes and ears, forcefully perceiving everything around him. A pistol in each hand, he thumbed back the hammers, raised his arms and focused on the bullets and the path he needed them to take through the air. Two shots. One bullet hit Daniel in the shoulder, but then Justin was on him. He danced back in time to avoid a slash of the dagger. Ten bullets left.

He tried to get his guns back up to aim but Justin kept pressing, forcing him to retreat instead. George stayed at a distance with Daniel, then the others got in close to the target, that was how this worked. They were a well-oiled machine when hunting. But it made him vulnerable when he was the prey. Daniel was charging up for some attack. He could feel the magic pricking up the hairs on the back of his neck.

His right hand came up to parry Justin, his left got another shot off at Daniel. A burst of magic went into the bullet as it left the gun. It traveled an arcing path, the magic curving it around Justin. A spray of blood told him he’d hit but there was no time to take a closer look. Nine left.

His feeling of danger spiked and he dove to the side. Chiro wavered back into view, their sword extended where George would have been standing. Their other hand held a pistol they were leveling right at George’s heart. Again he funneled his magic into the guns and shot both of them. All three shots went off simultaneously. A massive amount of magic drained from George but his shots intercepted Chiro’s out of the air. That was most of what he had left, he would have to rely on marksmanship for the rest of this. Seven.

George backpedaled frantically. If he kept Chiro in sight they wouldn’t be able to disappear. But that gave Justin enough time to close back in. He got another shot off but it went wide. Six.

George stumbled. He fell backwards and knew this was going to be the end. He wouldn’t be going quietly. Two more shots went off and hit true. One took Justin in the neck. Eyes wide, he slumped over as George dodged the now limply held blade. He stood up, just in time to duck beneath a ball of fire. Daniel wasn’t dead then. He turned and saw the fire mage. One hand was extended towards him, another clutched to his abdomen. Blood seeped through the fingers and he knew there wouldn’t be time for healing. But Daniel was dangerous even dying on the grass. Another bullet fixed that. Three.

Spinning, George realized he’d made a mistake. Chiro was nowhere in sight. Muscles tensed, George pushed the last of his magic to his ears and stood. stone still. The local wildlife had long scattered from the fight, and only the faint chittering of hidden rodents remained. The wind howled, almost painful when his ears were so sensitive. Patience would be his only savior, so he waited. There. A quiet panting from the left. A quiet click of a gun being loaded. George spun and fired twice more. Chiro dropped their magic and became fully visible. He’d been hit in the chest. George relaxed, that was all three. A final shot broke the silence. The bullet bit into the meat of his shoulder. He grunted in pain as he raised his gun once more and finished Chiro. Of course the prick wouldn’t let bleeding to death stop them from trying to kill someone.

George stumbled back to where he’d dropped his pack when his teammates first appeared. If there were any more hiding in the bushes he was done for and there was nothing else for it. Digging through he found bandages and did his best to dress the wound one handed. Now all he had to do was get to the edge of the empire and hitch a ride to safety. While wounded. With no more mage-crafted bullets. He rifled through his former colleagues' pockets. Bending down, he used his good arm to grab Chiro’s foot and attempted to drag the body further from the road. He nearly passed out from the pain, this would have to be good enough. Instead, he limped down the road to gain some distance before someone came across the site of the fight.

**********

Large steamers were always looking to take on new grunt workers in harbor. Shoveling coal all day was not a job many people would do for more than a few voyages, unless they had no other options. George had taken advantage of the fact and hired on to the first ship he could find. It was now steaming away to Oudigar. From there he could join a cross-land caravan to Elgin and then hop another ship to Lanport. He bent over to add another shovel of coal to the furnace. The pain in his left shoulder almost caused him to drop it. He gritted his teeth and continued. Magic was staving off infection, but shoveling with an injured arm was a lesson in agony. He may have been able to afford passage, his teammates had been carrying more coin than he expected, but it was all he had to get him all the way to Verilia, so he would save it for an emergency. Or whatever bribes he would need.

When his shift ended he staggered to the mess hall. He choked down the greasy stew and hard biscuits being served to crew members before staggering back to his hammock in the communal bunk area. Almost twelve years with the mage hunters should have meant this was a breeze. But they spent most of their time training their magic, or hunting down other magic users and convincing them to swear loyalty to the emperor. It turns out that wasn’t great preparation for backbreaking manual labor. Even using some magic to soothe the muscles, his arms were shaking at his sides from the exertion. Not that he ahd anything else to do. He’d brought a magic guide with him when he left but he’d already practically memorized it. His arms were too tired to clean his guns again, which left lying around in his hammock.

He laid down but struggled against the sleep that was trying to claim him. His dreams lately had not been a kind place. The last few years had sent magic into chaos. A slow change that turned them from a secret police force, if an unwilling one, into butchers. The creeping realization that they were not protecting anyone from uncontrolled magic had increased with every grandmother that brewed potions on the side without realizing she was adding magic, or the confused child that had been ripped away from their families because they could make sparks appear. And those parents that refused, or anyone that tried to run ….there was a reason his squad had hunted him down so easily. Eventually sleep claimed him anyway, and he was haunted by a hundred accusatory faces. Up before dawn, he edged past sleeping sailors to repeat the whole thing.