The Wild Beasts of Anthony Mannis

The Borges district commonly known as Forest Zone (established 130 C.A.) is only the third largest Zone in the nation of Atos yet the most heavily populated. This is due to its close proximity to Cirk Malpy, the Borges capital, as well as its abundance of natural resources. Forest Zone’s main exports are lumber and stone, though farming is a common practice.

- Information Available to Borges Citizens, Pamphlet IV

Anthony weaved through the trees, excited to be going to Hillside Stage. What time did Munroe say to meet? Noon? A quick look at the sun’s positioning affirmed he was going to be early. Good. I want to be first. Soak up the surroundings, get relaxed. A rumble’s just for fun and all, showing off beasts and all that—but winning is winning. A mischievous smile crept across his face. Don’t worry Munster, I’ll go easy on you.

Sunlight dappled the small footpath. Birds sang sweet songs in the trees and hearty grasses bowed as Anthony rushed by, the beauty of it lost to his distracted mind. He was thinking of beasts to use against his younger brother, whirling the creations around in his head: giant lion-like animals, twin-headed vipers, and something Philip had shown him in a history book on Forest Zone—a half eagle, half lion thing that had supposedly existed a long time ago. I’ll have to try that.

Hillside Stage was a lush, gorgeous opening in the middle of the forest with waves of knee-high green and gold grasses; it was often chosen by traveling musicians as a performance venue due to its natural raised hillocks and the iconic cherry tree. Nice and quiet, perfect for concentration. Good to begin with—but soon we’re gonna raise a ruckus. Aw man, he got here first…

Anthony could see Munroe standing under the cherry tree amidst a group of about six kids, confident and swaggering; the ends of his red scarf flapping in the breeze, a circular patch with one teardrop pinned over his heart. He was conjuring up a command-level invocation, a beautiful red-and-gold striped reptile the size of a small horse. Munroe laughed as his beast flicked a tongue out to smell the grass-sweetened air.

A girl let out an excited yelp, running out from the crowd to ride the beast. It dipped its head to allow her to mount and then paraded proudly around the field.

Nice job Munster, but watch this, Anthony thought. With a wave of a hand a large multicolored cloud-like beast appeared in front of him, floating at head-height. The cloud creature winked at him and waved cheerfully with a puffy appendage.

“Anthony’s here!” one of the kids shouted, “and he made a cruiser!”

“A cruiser?” another kid asked.

“Yea dude, a flying ’voke! They’re crazy hard to make!” said the shouting kid, running toward the pillow creature. It was burbling above Anthony’s head like a happy bird.

Dissipating his zebra-striped reptile right under the seat of the rider (much to her dismay), Munroe sauntered over to Anthony.

“Command-level cruiser, huh Ant? Well check this out!” Munroe, with a mock flourish, summoned an elephant-sized eagle. The eagle was completely metal, with onyx-black wings, a silver body, and enormous bronze talons. It bellowed a brassy warcry.

The other kids were elated. They were not invokers; they did not have the power to summon through imagination and for that they adored and envied the Mannis brothers.

“Rumble, rumble!” they chanted, singsong.

Anthony smiled. A rumble they shall have.

“Same rules?” he shouted to Munroe.

“Yep. First to quit, or arc out. Unlimited shifting.”

Anthony nodded. “Rumble on!”

His pillowy creature turned into a giant rainbow snake thick around as a tree trunk; it began wrapping itself around the neck of Munroe’s metal eagle. Munroe cackled joyfully, the struggling eagle disappeared, and a lithe red-and-white scorpion replaced it. The rainbow snake was being crushed by the giant pincers of Munroe’s monster before Anthony formed it into a large, matte-black Venus flytrap which promptly swallowed the scorpion. The flytrap was immediately crushed by a blow from a command-level automaton. Wild cheers erupted from the Forest Zone children as the automaton reared to its full height, the size of a young pine tree. Sunlight gleamed off its lustrous bronze exterior, and steam whistled from its back.

Munroe grinned—he was winning.

“No way,” one of the kids said in disbelief, “Anthony always wins.”

“You think he’s arcing down?”

Anthony winced, partly from his crushed monster and partly because he overheard them. No, I’m not arcing down. I’m still as strong as ever, I’ll show you…

There was a gasp from the crowd as a minotaur shot up in front of them, bursting out of the ground with a roar. The kids watching could barely contain themselves, they were absolutely wriggling with glee at the sight of the invocation growing past the trees; their little heads barely came up to the minotaur’s hairy ankles. The beast snorted, and a gold ring jingled in its nose.

“A colossus!” one of them squeaked.

Munroe’s face went white. “…What are you doing, Ant? Colossi are illegal.”

Anthony gave him a strained grin, pouring most of his concentration into keeping his colossus corporeal. “Don’t be a chicken, who’s gonna see?”

“I’m not a chicken,” Munroe said indignantly, but he didn’t summon anything.

“So do you quit?”

Munroe’s eyes flashed, and the crowd of children gasped.

Towering above the tallest tree, its head almost in the darkening clouds, was Munroe’s invocation. It was vaguely humanoid, with arms and legs, but no eyes. It was completely black and weirdly shiny, as if it were made of oil. It raised its arms and an outworldly thrum reverberated from its chest.

“I see you, Ant,” Munroe bellowed in a voice larger than his body, “I win this rumble. Yield.”

Sweat was dripping down Anthony’s brow, but still he smiled. “You know I don’t.”

Munroe’s monster slammed into his, the impact causing a vein to throb in Anthony’s forehead. The oily colossus enveloped the minotaur in a bear hug, and began to pour itself onto Anthony’s invocation.

“Yield.” Munroe said.

“Never.”

The minotaur struggled as it grunted for air. A few seconds later its face was covered by all of Munroe’s colossus.

“Yield!”

“No!”

A small child pointed at the sky. “Skydrone!” he shouted, and all the children turned their gaze upward. Far off in the distance, a silvery-black orb the size of a cannonball was buzzing toward them.

Munroe paled when he saw the skydrone and withdrew his colossus, the oily tar receding from Anthony’s minotaur as if it were being vacuumed up.

“Alright Ant, you win, you damn idiot.” Munroe cursed.

Anthony, sweating, grinned as the oily colossus melted away. Munroe shivered; chills were going up and down his spine. The other kids apparently did not feel the same way: they flocked to Anthony, congratulating him and begging for another. Munroe stormed to his older brother, ready to lecture.

“Are you insane?” he yelled, “Do you see that skydrone? Do you want Spectre Men after us?”

Anthony shrugged. “So what if they saw the colossus. I don’t care.”

“How can you not care? Don’t you remember what Phil always tells us? Power merits responsibility.”

“Ah, Phil can go eat it,” Anthony was still grinning, his black hair drenched in sweat, “don’t be mad ’cause you lost.”

“I’m not mad! You know what the Borges do if they see a colossus…not only that, it takes a bunch out of you! I’m not carrying you back home. Ma would whup both of us!”

Anthony shrugged and turned away. Next to him, the small kid pointed at the sky. Whooping, all the kids darted into the woods. The ranger skydrone would not be able to see them under the trees and they knew this area like the back of their hand; they were forest children, barefoot and agile, quick where the skydrone would bumble. Anthony conjured up a shaggy yeti-like beast that helped the youngest kids clamber quickly into the trees, and they all hid.

Telling me what to do. Anthony glared at Munroe, perched next to him languidly. When did you stop being fun to hang out with?

He studied his brother’s face. Despite the sun-browned skin and the toothy grin, Munroe’s eyes were dark and guarded—as if someone hidden was watching from behind them. I never know what you’re thinking, Munster.

“You had that dream again, didn’t you?” Munroe whispered to Anthony, startling him out of his contemplations.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. The one with the man in black. In the castle. That’s why my monster scared you. That’s why I was winning.”

Anthony was silent. Overhead, they heard the skydrone hum as it went by. He peeked at it through the foliage.

“It’s a scanner-class skydrone, not an attack one. Nothing to worry about,” he remarked, avoiding Munroe’s question before jumping out of the tree. He landed on a soft balloon-like monster that let out a small squeak.

“You lucked out. That colossus could have been seen for miles around.” Munroe said.

“Yea, but I bet it wasn’t.” Anthony was already walking back to the village. Munroe sighed.

#

Mint Village was in another clearing of the forest; a huddling of single-level wooden homes, shops, lodges, and open-air fireplaces connected by dirt roads. Anthony and Munroe could hear men felling trees to be sold at Forest Post. Far away up the hills they could see the communal farmland, where villagers were tilling in the afternoon light. Closer by was their home, a small wooden cottage with a stone chimney. Their mother was watering the wildflowers along the front walk, an aluminum watering can swinging in her hands and a straw sunhat perched gracefully on her head. Anthony couldn’t help but grin as he hopped over the wooden gate that guarded their walkway. Munroe opened the gate and walked through behind him.

“Home so soon? What have my boys been up to?”

She smiled as a proud mother could, the lines wrinkling around her eyes as she surveyed her children majestically. Anthony and Munroe sat down, Munroe on the grass and Anthony leaning against the door.

She’ll freak if she finds out we made colossus. “Nothing, Mama,” Anthony said, glancing at Munroe, “playing in the forest.”

Ma pursed her lips. “I am sure.”

Anthony made to change the subject. “I am sure you are sure. Can I go find Philip?”

“Yes. He’s out in Logger’s Corner. He was asking for you, it seemed important.” she smiled. “But first you must recite the Zones of Atos.”

“Easy; Forest, Ocean-”

“With their Old World names.”

“Ah, Ma, really?”

“We can be here all night. I have no reason to see Philip.”

“Fine—Hoemba, the Forest Zone. Kamisha, the Ocean Zone. Garuda, the Desert Zone, and uhm…Yoawarkii the Mountain Zone,” Anthony cleared his throat, impatient.

“I don’t know why I have to know the Old World names, Mama. They haven’t been called that for a hundred years, and no one speaks Tzolkhan anymore anyways.”

Ma inhaled and drew herself up. “The Borges divided and renamed the areas, not us. You may call the Zones whatever is easiest for you, but never forget our people’s history.”

“Yea, Ant,” Munroe hooted, “never forget our people’s history.”

Anthony snorted. “I won’t, I promise. Now can I go?”

“Yes. Don’t be too long. Are you wearing your patch?”

Something clicked behind Anthony’s eyes. “No.”

Ma heard the defiance in his voice and sighed. “Darling, please wear it. I don’t want trouble with the Public Safety Officers again.”

“No.”

“Anthony…”

“I won’t!” he snapped, jamming his hand into his pocket and ripping out the patch—a red circle with one teardrop, the same as Munroe’s. “Everyone treats me different when I put it on. They call me freak. I hate it!”

“You know you are supposed to wear it on your chest. You are on your second warning. A third—”

“Dad wouldn’t have been afraid.”

Ma started. “Excuse me?”

Anthony almost spat the words out. “Dad wouldn’t have lived in fear.”

Ma exhaled. “No. He would not have.” Her eyes were clear.

Anthony glared at her, fists clenched, at first refusing to back down. When he saw he could not win, he averted his eyes.

“I hate this place,” he snarled. Turning, he leapt the fence and ran down the road. He knew his Ma was crying, and ran anyway.

The dusty road widened, became paved, and grew noisier the closer he got to Logger’s Corner. All the prepared lumber from Mint Village was shipped off from here, making it noticeably louder, rougher, and busier. This doesn’t resemble the rest of Mint Village, he grimaced, it’s more like the Borges: smoggy, plastic, and metal. I hate it. I hate it all.

“Anthony!”

He turned and saw his brother behind him.

“Hold up a sec,” Munroe said, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck, “Take this. It’s going to get chilly tonight.”

“Whatever. Scarves are dumb.” Still, he draped it on his shoulders.

Munroe fingered a snaggle near one of the ends. “Musta got caught on the tree when we were climbin’ it. Ma’s gonna be pissed, hah.”

He sighed. “You know she’s just worried about you. Ever since Dad…”

“I don’t care.”

“You should. You can’t be the hothead; I want to. Ma wouldn’t be able to handle both of us.” Munroe grinned, and Anthony couldn’t help but smile.

“See you at home, Ant?”

“I’ll see you at home, Munster.”

#

The sun dipped low in the evening, the sky a fiery red. Pink clouds hung in the sky, and underneath them Public Safety Officers in dusty grey armor patrolled, their boots clacking smartly on the cobblestone. I’m not going to move out of their way, Anthony thought defiantly.

“Scram, kid.” One of them pushed Anthony sideways effortlessly.

They’re bigger. But If I made a colossus…maybe thirty feet, with hammer-fists…what could they do? I’d smash everything in my way. pissos, rangers, anyone…well, at least until they send—

“Hey champ!” a voice rang out. It belonged to a barrel-chested red-bearded man leaning on a stone wall. “Where y’off ta?”

Anthony snapped out of his reverie. “Hi Darius. Have you seen Philip?”

“Ah, lookin’ for Mr. Delacey are ya? I think he’s been looking for ya as well. I recall seeing him over there earlier.” Darius gestured nonchalantly over his shoulder in a way that didn’t help at all.

“Say kid, we’ve been tryin’ ta uproot that stump all afternoon. Give us a hand?”

He gulped from a beerstein as he pointed to a group of sturdy men and oxen fruitlessly hauling at a well-rooted tree stump.

One of the loggers stood up and stretched tiredly. “Yo Dar, you think it’s a good idea to have a ’voke do it? Pissos might freak out.”

He pointed to the pair of idle Public Safety Officers that had pushed Anthony earlier.

Darius squinted. “Ya bring ya patch, Anthony?”

“No.”

The big man frowned. “Hmm, we better not then. Don’t want the big bad Borges ta go around arrestin’ ya. Alright boys, pack it up ’til tomorrow. See you in the mess.”

The men grumbled, disheartened from their failure. Anthony studied Darius. He’s disappointed, he wanted to clear the field today. I could have done it with a command in five minutes. He’s scared. They’re scared. Everyone’s scared of the Borges…except me.

#

At a long table in the eating commons Anthony sat with Darius, sharing a roast chicken. A large bonfire burned in the center, a big pot of thick vegetable stew bubbling over it.

“I coulda done it, you know.” Anthony said, hollow.

Darius put down his drumstick and eyed him coolly. “I know ya coulda.”

“Why didn’t you let me?”

“Anthony, ya know it’s illegal to invoke without a summoner patch visible.”

“I won’t wear that thing. I don’t care. I’m not afraid of them.”

“That’s not tha point—”

“My dad wasn’t afraid of them. Neither am I. Everyone just sits around and does nothing. You’re all scared.”

Darius inhaled and his voice changed, grew deeper. “Just ’cause we do nothing now does not mean we’re scared. Yer father was indeed a man of action, and a great one, but…”

“…But?”

“…I’ll tell ya when ya olda.”

Anthony scowled. “Cop out answer, old man.”

“I’ll let that comment slide ’cause yer a child. Lookit, here comes Philip.”

Darius pointed at a distracted seventeen-year-old entering the mess. His dusty jacket, like his moppy brown hair, was too big for him; as were his pants tucked into his boots and held up by suspenders. A backpack swung heavily off one strap on his shoulder. He glanced around, pushing taped glasses higher up on his nose before he noticed Anthony and Darius and bumbled cheerfully toward them.

“Hello Anthony! Hello Darius!”

“Hey Philip,” Anthony said, “whatcha got there?”

“Some Forester dumped a bunch of books and junk at the secondhand shop over in Forest Post. I got some as soon as I could.”

He pulled a large tome out of his pack, spilling papers everywhere. “Ah, ignore those…check out these illustrations…it’s fantastic! You might want to flip through it, you may get some ideas for monsters. That’s a cyclops…those are hydras…those are sirens…and it comes with footnotes! Violence cannot drive out violence…”

“This is so cool! Well, minus the footnotes part,” Anthony exclaimed, turning pages, his earlier tantrum forgotten.

“Check out these sick beasts! Wanna go practice them, Phil? They seem easy to invoke.”

Philip nodded in agreement. “Let’s get out of here. See ya, Darius!”

They left the eating commons and began searching for a secluded area to conjure an invocation. Anthony drummed his fingers along the railing of the wooden fence as they walked.

“Careful, you’re gonna get splinters doing that.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Who are you, my Ma?”

“I’m just saying—”

“Stop, y’two. Where ya goin’?”

They froze. It was the Public Safety Officers from before, blocking their path with arms crossed. Philip nervously eyed the officer who had spoken, a thin man with a baton strapped to his side. Behind was his partner. She had her visor flipped up so she could chug from a bottle, and the smell of liquor lingered about both of them.

“Just heading from the eating commons back home, sir,” Anthony said carefully.

“Bit of a roundabouts way back to the housing area, isn’t it?”

“I uh, have to, nature calls.”

“And I suppose yer making this fella watch? Is that why he’s going with you?” the PSO sneered. Behind him, his partner burped and dropped her bottle on the ground.

“I am responsible for him,” Philip stepped in, “I have to make sure he gets home.”

The PSO shifted his weight, fingering the strap of his baton. “Kids shouldn’t be running around outside this close to curfew. Beat it.”

Anthony and Philip breathed a collective sigh of relief and made to move past the officers.

“Wait a minute,” said the other PSO. She gestured drunkenly with her baton to the bottle, then to a nearby garbage bin.

“Pick it up. Can’t leave litter lying around.”

The two boys exchanged glances, unsure of what to do.

“I said pick it up.”

Philip slowly made a move to grab it.

“Don’t do that,” Anthony said suddenly. Philip stopped.

The first PSO stepped in and slammed Anthony across the face with the butt of his baton, knocking him to the ground.

“Don’t talk back to her, boy.”

Anthony glared upward, locking eyes with the PSO. He could taste blood in his mouth and his head was ringing. He felt heat emanating off of his body in waves…

“You better quit lookin’ at me unless you want another crack on the head,” the PSO growled.

“Hey, officers.” Philip interrupted.

They turned. Philip dropped the bottle into the garbage bin. The PSO whose beer it had been nodded in approval. A device on her wrist beeped and she checked it. Muttering, she shook her partner on the shoulder.

“Forget these kids, we gotta go, ASAP. Somethin’ important came down from Warden Tan. She wants alla us to meet up.”

The first PSO straightened up, towering over Philip.

“Another day, Specs.”

The officers left. Philip exhaled shakily.

“What was that all about?” Anthony frowned. He licked his lips, wiping the blood away.

The corners around Philip’s mouth tightened. “Power.”

They walked quietly in the alley behind the housing projects, hoping to avoid any more run-ins with PSOs. Anthony rubbed the summoner’s patch in his pocket between his fingers. Glad I wasn’t wearing it.

“I wasn’t scared, you know,” he said aloud.

“Sure.”

“I was ready to invoke.”

“And then what?” Philip whirled around, “Hurt them? They’d just radio for more officers, enough to beat you. And then what would you do?”

“I dunno, maybe they’d be scared, I—”

“Would you kill them?” Philip interrupted, “Mister big-shot.”

Anthony looked at the ground. “You know, I was the one who got hit this time.”

Philip’s demeanor softened. “I am sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. At least they didn’t go through your backpack and take the books.”

Philip snorted. “Yea, they were about to. ‘Suspect Literary Search and Seizure’ or whatever they call that law. ”

He fished out a book titled A Modern History of Borges Civilization, the word CITADEL COPY stamped on the front in bold red ink.

“Book seizure isn’t the only annoyance you know,” he continued, pushing his glasses up his nose, “the Borges have made it almost impossible to learn how to read outside of Cirk Malpy. In Mint Village I’m fairly certain only a handful of people can, and I’m sure it’s like that in other towns as well.”

“I can read!”

“Dude, I know. You should thank your mother for teaching us.”

“Yea…I have.” Anthony irked at the mention of Ma.

“What’s that humming noise?”

They stared up at the red sky. The humming grew louder as a sweeper flew overhead, the giant gunship beelining for Mint Village.

The color drained from Philip’s face. “Get down! Get to cover!” he hissed.

They ran to the side of a housing wall and hugged against it. They peered over the edge of a dumpster, and Anthony gasped at what he saw.

The town square where he had eaten dinner was lit with glaring sweeper searchlights. He could see CDF agents rappelling out of the ships, hitting the ground heavily in grey armor. Attack skydrones hovered in the air like angry black wasps. Rangers in dark red were mounted on giant three-legged walkers. Anthony’s heart sank. Stalkers. The Borges loved to use the freakish things for crowd control; from their high perch the pilot could easily see over buildings and shoot down with a rifle. There was a line of battlewagons entering the square, and from the first car came a drawling voice—unsettlingly colloquial—amplified through the speakers atop the truck.

“Hello, residents of Mint Village. Earlier today our scanner skydrones detected two colossus-level invocations three miles to the west. We are searching for the invokers who created them.”

Anthony felt his heart drop through his stomach. Oh no.

“They are due to Cirk Malpy for questioning and remediation,” the voice droned, as if it resented its transmission, “we understand that they are children, and they will not be harmed.”

Philip coughed. The voice continued.

“Until we find the invokers this township will be deemed Under Control of the Borges State. Please remain calm as the Citadel Defense Force works with the town Public Safety Officers to set up temporary military jurisdiction.”

“WHAT?!” roared a familiar voice, “Whadd’ya mean ‘Under Control of the Borges State?’ Mint Village has always been a colony under control of the Borges State since the end of the Second Uprising! Nothing’s different, what’s with the guns an’ soldiers an’ pony parade?”

From their hiding spot, Philip and Anthony marveled at Darius’s ability to stand and defy a line of CDF battlewagons with over a dozen spotlights and guns aimed at him.

“Since The Failed Rebellion,” the voice said acidly, “Mint Village has been under the overwatch of the Borges, yes. It is well within Borges rights to intervene when we find talented new invokers.”

“Borges rights?” Darius bellowed, “what of the rights of the Hoemban? What of the rights of the citizens of Atos? Ya can’t rewrite the laws whenever ya want!”

“I am not here to argue with you,” the voice continued, “If the invokers step forward now, it will save us the hassle of going door to door, which I can assure you, will not be in your best interest. Thank you.”

Immediately after the voice hung up, gunfire ripped through the air. Anthony covered his ears. It did not shut out any sounds; he could still hear screaming, timber breaking, angry yelling…

The sweepers dove and the gunners rattled their machine guns, their spotlights swinging wildly. Rat-tat-tat.

A tremendous roar cut through the discord, and a gigantic colossus towered above the houses and filled the sky. It was similar to the cyclops in the book Philip showed him, but had four arms instead of two, with giant chains swinging from each wrist. Its whole body was sheathed in plate armor and its face was painted in red and white war paint. It roared again as it swatted two skydrones out of the air. Bullets bounced off it like rain on a tin roof.

“A Hechaton,” Philip breathed, “Someone’s been reading.”

Anthony’s eyes went wide. “Munroe. What is he doing?”

“Hello, residents of Mint Village,” the voice blared again, “We have found an invoker. Anyone coming to his aid or defense will be dealt with accordingly. He is only wanted for questioning and may perhaps qualify for acceptance into the Borges School for the Gifted. Please act in your own best interest—BZZT” the speaker cut out abruptly. The Hechaton roared victoriously.

“Your brother is putting up quite the fight, Anthony. Anthony?” Philip sat up. There was no one next to him.

“Anthony!”

The boy invoker was off and running down the alley, towards the town square.

“Anthony! What the hell are you doing…” Philip hissed.

An ethereal red heat seemed to be burning off Anthony. His fists were clenched, his boots slammed against the dirt. I’m going to stop them. A pair of fire-tigers began to form behind him. I’m going to save you, Munroe. The tigers yowled, racing alongside the boy invoker on each side. I’m going to save you, Ma—

WHUMPF. He felt the air leave his lungs. He was moving backwards. No, he was being carried backwards, up a hill, away from the houses. The fire-tigers around him disappeared in a shower of sparks.

“Ya moronic boy, ya idiot, what in blazin’ hells are ya doin’?”

“Put me down, Darius! I have to go help him! They’re going to take him away!”

Darius had the boy on his shoulder with one arm, a hunting rifle in the other. “Don’t be a fool, Anthony! There are too many of them for ya. Ya mother’s already going ta lose one son, are ya going to make her lose two?”

“But my brother…! ” Anthony’s voice broke. Darius dropped him gently on the grass next to Philip. In the intermittent flashes of searchlight, adrenaline coursing through him, Anthony was hit with the realization that things much larger than him were happening.

CRACK.

They all knew what that sound was.

“Spectre Men.” Philip said, in awe.

They watched as bolts of what seemed like purple lightning arced from the ground to hit the Hechaton invocation, coming from four, six, ten points.

Always an even number; Anthony grit his teeth. Those bastards always work in pairs.

The Hechaton roared and fizzled. It stomped on the ground and two lightning arcs died under its foot. Then the invocation, with one final bellow, dissolved. An eerie silence hung in the air.

“Hello, Mint Village,” the hated voice declared, “We have enough for now. We shall be leaving, but we ask that some citizens volunteer for eyewitness interviews. Take note, we will return for the other invoker. Thank you.”

“Look,” Philip said quietly, “they’re taking prisoners. Loading foresters onto battlewagons.”

Anthony peered down at his hometown. Where’s Ma? Where’s Munroe? He swore he could see a woman with a straw hat being forced onto the battlewagon. That’s gotta be her. A large cube, glowing a slight purple, was also being loaded. What’s in there?

“Let’s wait for them to leave,” Philip said, “Then we go can go down and talk to those left behind—”

There were screams. There was fire. To their horror, their hometown was burning…

“Why?!” Philip’s eyes grew wide, “They got Munroe. Why are they doing this?!”

Anthony tried to get up again, but Darius pulled him down.

“Let me go!” he struggled.

“Don’t be stupid! Ya wanna fight them all?!”

“Yes!” Anthony snarled. He watched Philip’s face contort, the older boy’s mind racing for a real solution.

“I will go,” Darius said, clearing his rifle, “Philip, keep him with ya—and run away. Run ta the next town. Run ta safety.”

He darted down the hill, gun in hand, towards the buildings on fire.

Run? Anthony thought angrily. Behind him, a hellish dreadlord with large bat wings and firepit eyes was forming. Run?

A demonic sword materialized in its clawed hands and armsleeves of runes glowed brighter and brighter as the invocation took shape. It hissed with pleasure. Anthony’s eyes were cold. I don’t run. I don’t yield.

“Put that away!” Philip snapped into his ear, “the Spectre Men will find you, destroy it, and wipe your brain if they find Mint Village’s second invoker.”

“I need to help them!”

“Do you want your revenge? We can have it, but not now! Darius is right: if you try to fight here, you will lose. They will take you to the Borges School for the Gifted and take away your ability to think, reason, and create. You’ll never see Ma again.”

“You’re scared! Everyone’s scared!”

“I am scared. I am very scared. But that does not mean I do not have a plan,” Philip turned Anthony around and looked into his eyes.

“Listen to me: I promise you will have your justice and save your family.”

Anthony stopped struggling, visibly shrinking. The demon dissipated. He started crying. He cried and cried, and Mint Village burned, and the sweeper gunners went rat-tat-tat.