Chapter Fifteen - Weird

2 Seleszeni 10.076 Z.C., Morning

“Mav, wait!” came a woman’s squeal behind him as he left the initiate’s mess hall. He considered running, but instead glanced back. Lilla ran up to him, clutching a letter.

“Look what I got,” she panted, presenting the prominent seal of Izzet League stamped on the envelope. Mav examined it, then retrieved an identical letter from his pocket and nodded.

She pouted, then asked, “What do you think an Izzet researcher wants with us?” She stuffed the letter into a belt pouch and crossed her arms. “You’ll have to tell me, because I can’t go. I have a stupid patrol after training today,” she complained with a loud sigh.

Mav blinked, amazed by her volatile mood swings. Without a doubt, she is the strangest vedalken I’ve ever met. Then he shrugged.

“I’d guess the Izzet have a mission,” he answered and cleared his throat as she glared at him, exasperated.

“Well duh. The letter says that. What kind of mission?” she demanded, and rather than stating the obvious again, Mav unfolded his letter and pointed to a sentence which read:

Details provided upon arrival, 8:00 a.m. sharp.

Lilla stared at him like he’d just easten paste. He began to wonder what he missed. She expected him to say something, but he didn’t know what.

“Never mind!” she exclaimed, slapping his letter aside with an impertinent smack. It wrinkled in his firm grip, but did not tear.

“Later,” she dropped, and turned to go. Mav watched her trot down the hall, bemused. What was that about?

He started off toward the barracks again. His sergeant already approved the request for a day’s leave he put in this morning, one of the perks of graduating up from squire. Excited for a change of pace and the comfort of his old leather armor, he moved with haste. 0800 wouldn’t come for another three hours, but he wanted to enjoy the walk to the Blistercoils outside the walls of Sunhome. Being cooped up these past weeks made him realize how often he once roamed the streets.

They didn’t make this place easy to find, Mav thought, completing a second circle around the block where the address indicated the lab should be. He made good time despite the dense morning bustle of citizens, teeming masses heading off to work, breakfast, or the market. Rounding the corner, he recognized two of the men in the throng from the float yesterday: Bron and Rafiel, looking up at the building with puzzled expressions. Hands in his pockets, he strolled over.

“Lost?” he chipped in, offering a grin. Bron’s lips curled into a broad smile in return, revealing a set of well-maintained pearly whites..

“Ah, another hero summoned to the cause of fame and glory?” the blond asked with lofty rhetoric, glancing at his friend. Raf did not smile. Serious fellow.

Mav paused a moment, searching his past excursions through this part of the Blistercoils for a clue. Inspiration struck.

“We’re too high,” he announced to the others, motioning them to follow him down a spiralling ramp. “I bet this is part of the section they rebuilt after the Great Spate of ‘48,” Mav guessed, referring to an infamous and devastating chain reaction of their fathers’ time. The explosions knocked out power for days, and led the Azorius to sanction the Izzet with a litany of new safety regulations.

“There are more labs on a lower level, collapsed down in the explosion. We should be able to access them if we go around. Wish they changed the addresses when levels collapsed,” Mav grumbled, and Bron nodded like Mav took the words out of his mouth. Rafiel stayed quiet, vigilant eyes taking in the scenery as they descended, closer to the Undercity. Mav showed them some service streets and shortcuts through the maze of Blistercoils, sunlight dimming the further they went.

Finally, after winding down through three levels of the city, they found the lab. Bron led the way inside, swinging open both of the double doors with an air of authority. When Mav and Rafiel both opened a door and motioned for the other to go ahead, Rafiel broke the first smile Mav’d seen him show. They walked through the doors side by side, following Bron.

After greeting them, a secretary escorted the three men through several sets of heavy mizzium doors and thanked them for their prompt arrival. The air felt charged in the literal sense, and Mav noted the hairs on his arms standing up. Raw mana currents powered all kinds of strange devices in the Blistercoils; he took care not to touch or bump anything, charged with this much ambient energy.

At last, they arrived in a large chamber filled with strange apparatuses, all buzzing with a sonorous resonance. A tall elf with pallid yellow skin, dressed in the blue-and-red robes of an Izzet researcher, turned to examine them with a cold stare. Behind him, crews of goblin janitors cleaned debris and broken glass from the lab floor.

“I am Aethrin, Independent Izzet Researcher,” he introduced, his tone flat and clinical. “You are the Guildpact Parade heroes? Yes, I recognize you from the holo in this morning’s Beacon. Thank you for arriving on time, most ‘heroes’ are not so prompt.”

Disdain dripped from the elf and Mav shifted, crossing his arms. Not the reception he expected. Bron opened his mouth but Aethrin continued, oblivious or uncaring.

“The mission I have for you is of the utmost importance. This project is confidential and classified, so your discretion is key. You will be handsomely rewarded if you succeed, and we are prepared to offer a bonus if certain conditions - including secrecy - are met. Before moving forward, do you accept these initial terms?” he asked.

They glanced at each other, and nodded in unison.

“Excellent. We have developed a new weird-augmented energy induction system for the hydroelectric generators in the Blistercoils...”

Mav frowned as the researcher rattled on about some of the scientific details of their project, hoping Rafiel understood this. The involvement of a weird, a hybridized elemental, complicated things. Elementals, fleeting creatures, burned through their energy in no time unless contained. The Izzet created weirds by merging two or more elementals together into a single entity. They claimed hybridization stabilized the weird, but as far as Mav knew, all elementals were as unstable as Lilla.

“After rigorous testing, our prototype weird was charging in a Portable Overcharge Device, or POD. The POD is a containment vessel like this one here,” Aethrin continued, motioning to a goblin-sized silver cylinder. “The Gruul stole it in a raid yesterday; those savages likely don’t even know what it is.” The researcher sniffed, turning up his nose at the Gruul’s barbarity.

“We need the prototype returned as soon as possible. We are replicating another one, but this will take more time than we have. We already altered a Blistercoil engine to use this weird, and without it the regulator will overheat and explode. If the POD overcharges the prototype, it will probably explode too.”

Lovely.

“Can’t you use another weird in the meantime?” Bron wondered aloud. Aethrin furrowed his brows in frustration and slapped a clipboard off the lab bench, which skittered into a nearby janitor’s dustpan. Nice shot.

“I already told you, this weird is a unique prototype, there are no others like it! You’re wasting my time. The modifications are too specific. Using another weird would likely hasten the overheating process significantly!”

Bron didn’t back down, glaring at Aethrin and taking an adamant posture. Mav cut in, trying to break the tension.

“The Gruul, you know which clan smashed your shop?”

Aethrin’s haughty stare swiveled to him. “They were viashino. Probably the Slizt Clan, they’re viashino,” he replied, and Mav nodded. They had their work cut out for them, retrieving a volatile weird from a clan of fierce, agile lizardfolk.

“Alright,” Mav began, glancing at Bron’s frustrated expression and Rafiel, enrapt by the remains of the lab’s experiments. “We need to get your weird back from the Gruul, do it quickly and quietly, then get it back here without anyone finding out what it is, before anything blows up.”

Relaxing a bit, Aethrin appeared satisfied with Mav’s summary. “Yes. Here, we can provide this to you as well, to help you retrieve our weird safely.”

The elf extended a hand, offering them an Izzet pin emblazoned with the likeness of their Guildmaster, the legendary dracogenius Niv-Mizzet.

“This charm can be used once, either to dispel magic or to create a lightning bolt. Use it wisely.”

Mav saluted, accepted the token from the researcher, and handed it to Bron.

“Use it wisely,” he echoed, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Bron laughed and took the pin, his sour mood forgotten. Mav looked at Rafiel and Bron, eyebrows raised, waiting to see if they asked the researcher any additional questions. With none forthcoming, they bid Aethrin farewell and headed out of the Blistercoils.

“Initiate Arven grew up in the Red Wastes,” Mav remarked as they wound back up the ramp to the surface level. “If we hurry, we can catch her before her patrol. She may know something of these viashino or be able to provide directions through the rubblebelt.”

Mav checked Bron and Rafiel’s faces to make sure they understood. A sudden overeagerness in Bron’s eye concerned Mav, who advised, “Let me do the talking though; she’s a gossip and I want that bonus for keeping the mission quiet.”

“Shhhhh,” Bron whispered. “I bet we can sneak around it if we stay low.”

Mav looked back toward the huge goat-like creature on the path ahead, grazing the verdant undergrowth of the rubblebelt. On his infrequent excursions to the Wastes, he’d never seen a creature like this. It stood tall and majestic. Shame, killing something so free.

Nodding to Bron, he pointed to a fallen wall, now waist-high, to the north. Looked like their best way to get by without the creature spotting them.

Crouched low, Bron inched toward the wall, following Mav’s direction. Movement near the beast caught his attention, and Mav turned to look over his shoulder. Rather than following Bron, Rafiel crept closer to the mammoth goat, an ambitious gleam in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Bron hissed, also stopping as he saw Rafiel.

“I just need a small sample to take back to the biolabs,” the hybrid muttered without turning back.

Mav motioned to Bron to keep moving and get to the cover of the semi-intact wall. Frowning at his friend, Bron did so, and Mav followed close behind. Once the two reached their target, they ducked down and watched Rafiel.

“Can’t decide if he’s brave or foolish,” Mav remarked. Bron cleared his throat, arching his brow, eyes glued to the elf.

“Yeah, me either. Raf is … very dedicated to his work with the Simic. Believe it or not, I’ve seen him do crazier things than this to get a biomatter sample. Once we were ambushed by reef sharks during an expedition in the zonot, and-” Mav cut off Bron’s whispers with an incredulous glare.

Rafiel crept up behind the goat, sample vial in one hand, and a sharp knife in the other. All three held their breath as Rafiel reached out, about to cut a lock of fur from the rubblebelt goat’s hind leg. The beast snorted, perhaps catching the scent of the city on Rafiel, and then reared without warning, spinning on its back hooves to face Raf.

Mav readied his longbow, and Bron cursed something about the sphinx Azor, namesake and first parun of the Azorius Senate, under his breath. Mav glanced at his empty hands, raising an eyebrow. Bron rolled his eyes and drew his shortbow with a reluctant sigh.

Meanwhile, Rafiel appeared to explain his nonviolent intentions to the goat, as if it could understand him. Whether it could or not, the goat didn’t seem to care. Snorting and stamping the ground, the wild creature lowered a set of huge, curved horns.

“Back away,” Mav cautioned, pitching his voice low, hoping it would carry to Rafiel. The hybrid did indeed back away, but his knife flashed in the sun as he lowered the blade. With a feral bray, the goat charged.

Rafiel dropped his knife and ran in a frustrated panic, clutching his vial. From cover, Mav and Bron loosed arrows at the great beast, which pursued Rafiel undaunted as he scrambled over boulders and dodged around barbed shrubs. He’s not gonna outrun it.

Mav drew another arrow, but stepped out of cover and jumped onto the wall instead of nocking it, yelling taunts and waving his arms at the goat. Red eyes wild, the snorting beast reared up to face him.

“You’re crazy too!” Bron jeered.

“Just keep shooting it,” Mav replied, lining up and loosing his shot, watching it sink into the beast’s shoulder. His sadness at the sight of the red bloodstain surprised him. He hoped the goat would run once it took enough punishment. Mav hopped off the wall and backed up the hillside, moving slow to appear less aggressive.

With another mad cry the beast charged. Beyond the goat Mav saw Rafiel draw a shortsword and slash at the goat’s powerful hind legs as it ran by. This drew its attention back to the elf, this time gored in the leg by the angry animal. The creature did not flee, and despite the disheartening hail of arrows, fought with vigor until it’s last breath.

Bruised and bloodied themselves by the end, the three adventurers rested for a while near the goat’s carcass. Mav muttered a few words for the creature’s spirit, and Rafiel collected samples, chirping and chattering with Bron about the ‘wonderful’ specimens he obtained. Bron brooded, reminding them both at regular intervals that their stupidity could have gotten him killed.

Contrite, Raf offered Bron one of the horns. Bron grinned and stood up, his mood improved.

“This will make an excellent trophy. I’ll display it in the Great Hall, where father will see it and remember he has two heirs. Iliana’s never slain a rubblebelt beast before.”

Mav shook his head. “Is it really such a bad thing? Less pressure on you to make your parents proud, right?”

Brons lips turned wry as he shook his head. “Spoken like a disappointment,” he quipped with a shrug, before adding, “It wouldn’t be so bad if Iliana wasn’t so insufferable. She’s daddy’s little girl. And father crows about her every achievement and minor victory, rubbing it in my face like it’s supposed to motivate me. Ridiculous! I swear I’ll never hear the end of her new promotion. Anyways, enough about her.” Bron paused, clearing his throat and examining the large horn again. “Just so we’re all clear, this bull-hydra stood three stories tall and had at least five heads to start.”

Mav snorted and shook his head at the wild exaggeration, getting out his med kit to treat a gash in Bron’s arm.

“Do you think it will scar?” Bron asked, his voice hopeful.

“No,” Mav responded with flat detachment, wondering at the hope in the wealthy man’s voice. Typical Azorius, ignorant to the pain most folk endured, focused only on their appearance and standing.

Mav knew pain, his own body littered with scars from countless fights, mended through his own skill with a needle and thread. Each mark told a story, usually of a battle lost and weeks of pain as he healed. Melo assured him no decent woman would want a man covered in reminders of his own mortality, and according to her, his body belonged to his future wife.

“Can you make it scar?”