The Wild Beasts of Anthony Mannis

Violet Montescue, more commonly known as simply Violet, was the former leader of the top-tier SSI group known as The Black Death. A tier-three invoker, she was capable of sixty-feet colossi and was instrumental in the Borges victory of The Failed Rebellion. After her succession by Rojas, she disappeared and her whereabouts are currently unknown.

- Information Available to Borges Citizens, Pamphlet VIII

“Alright guys, I have an idea.” Philip suggested, “before we enter Lagulina, we should fabricate some alter egos. After all, Lagulina is the center city of Forest Zone; there’s bound to be loads of pissos. We don’t want anyone to even come close to recognizing us.”

Anthony’s eyes lit up. “Good idea, Phil. Should we make up fake names?”

“…Sure? But—”

“I wanna be Rutherford Hoobler, son of shipping magnate Bigby Hoobler, who levies unfair taxes on all imports.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Hayley chimed, “I’m Juanette Barth, traveling performance artist. My current act is called Birds in the Kitchen. It’s a metaphor for my womanhood.”

“Wait, what? You guys need to take this seriously—”

“Pippin Aplernathy, tea baron; and I specialize in uh…chai. Also, my stepfather used to beat me. For my chamomile,” he added, as if it would answer Philip’s death glare, “but now I am stronger because of it.”

“Lola Pachysandra, I run a small shop named Look Around You that sells second-hand books, and,” Hayley threw a hand to her forehead in a mock-swoon, “I wish so desperately that a knight in shining armor would literally ride into my store—”

“Okay you know what, screw the alter egos; you guys ruined it, thanks.”

Anthony winked. “Oh come on Phil, just havin’ a bit of fun, what would yours be?”

“Well, I’d be Jonathan Grey, accountant,” he said proudly, pushing up his glasses, “I am here to audit small businesses in Lagulina.”

Anthony and Hayley exchanged glances. Poor guy, they thought to each other.

“Holy hell that’s boring,” Hayley finally spoke, “I would not let you near Look Around You.”

“Seriously. You are not touching any part of Hoobler Shipping. Or Aplernathy Teas. Ooh, can I change mine? I think I thought of a better one. Philip?”

“He’s huffing on down the road.” Quarterstaff draped across her shoulders, Hayley pointed with her chin at the lanky boy churning dust up ahead.

“I’m not huffing!”

Anthony turned to Hayley. “I guess he doesn’t want to hear about Gerard Pamplemousse.”

“It’s okay,” her smile was sunshine, “you can tell me, kittycat.”

#

Lagulina, while not the capital city of Forest Zone, was truly its heart: a dazzling gem compared to the rustic shantytowns of Lanaya, Melville, and Mint Village. The tall city was built from carved stone shipped in from Ocean Zone; immaculate white walls embraced the city protectively. Public Safety Officers in gleaming armor patrolled the parapets, dizzying towers spiraled into the clouds, and large flags rippling in the wind proudly displayed the colors of Forest Zone—emerald green and white—alongside the white and grey Borges banners.

“What a city,” Anthony whistled as they arrived at the already-busy gates. The three adventurers blended in perfectly with the farmers and day-laborers who traveled in and out. Despite this, Philip eyed the guards warily; when one of the PSOs glanced at him, he averted his gaze.

Hayley too was eyeing the guards, including the patrolling ones on the wall. Anthony, standing right next to her, could hear her mumbling under her breath.

“Pissos in pairs, lightly armed, standard positions. Murder holes spaced every 10 feet between the gates. Large enough for gun barrels as well as boiling oil. Gates themselves are reinforced steel and half-timbred greatoak, with loops for rifle fire. Gateway is thirty feet across. A minimum of ten entrenched men could hold this entryway against hundreds for hours…”

She smiled and winked at Anthony, “..If there were no invokers.”

He returned the smile mischievously, a fire-starting gleam in his eyes.

Philip didn’t think it was so funny. “Do you always do this whenever you walk around places?”

Hayley nodded and laughed. “What, you never walk down the street and pass someone and think ‘Man, I could take him?’”

Philip pursed his lips, unamused. Anthony shrugged.

With exasperated eye-rolling, “You little kittycats. I do it all the time, it’s fun to imagine fights in your head.”

She nodded at a PSO who was standing on an elevated platform so he could oversee the crowd. “See that bloke there? He thinks height gives him an advantage—it does kind of, but that’s not the point—he’s really just standing on a glorified box. His center of gravity in relation to us has changed and his mobility is limited.”

She directed their attention to the guards at the end of the gate. “Those two are standing too close to each other, and both their billy clubs are attached to their right hips. If I circle to the left of the rightmost one, I can use her as a human shield against the other, while at the same time disabling the effective range of her dominant arm.”

She tapped her temple knowingly as Philip and Anthony stared at her. “It’s like I always say—if you prepare for something, when it happens, you’ll be ready.”

She sauntered off, her straw jacket ruffling. She looked very similar to a bird wading through shallow water.

“That’s a stupid saying.” Anthony remarked. Philip nodded in agreement.

“Hey you,” a PSO said to Hayley, tossing a soda can on the ground, “pick it up.”

“Pick it up yourself,” Hayley answered without stopping. The PSO attempted to grab her, but she slipped aside and tripped him neatly as he stumbled forward. His partner started to protest but she thumped him in the stomach with the butt of her staff, and he went to the ground coughing. When they finally stood up, cursing, she was lost in the crowd.

“Wow,” Anthony said, “way cooler than how you handled it.”

“Oh, shut up.”

#

“Wanted signs everywhere for us,” Philip said in dismay. He turned his collars up tighter around his head. Anthony did the same. “We’d be wise to lunch somewhere quiet and out of the way.”

“How about in the city garden?” Anthony suggested, “nobody ever goes in places like that except weirdos and the homeless.”

“That’s a pretty generalized and offensive statement,” Philip replied, “but it does sound like a good idea. And where’s Hayley? I don’t like it when she disappears like that.”

“Why, you miss her? Geez man, she can go wherever she wants, you know.”

Philip paused. “Well, if you must know—”

“Hey kittycats,” Hayley said cheerfully, as if she had never left, “I got us some food.”

“Great, I’m starving,” Anthony clutched at his stomach, “we’re planning to go eat in the city garden.”

“Good idea, it’ll be nice and quiet. There’s usually no one in the parks, only weirdos and the homeless.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Will you guys stop saying that? It’s rather ignorant.”

“Shut up, Philip,” the unison reply.

As they walked towards the park, Hayley pulled out some loaves of sourdough bread and a large salami she supposedly bought and began to slice them.

“I can’t wait to sleep in a bed tonight,” Anthony said happily, his mouth full of food. “A bath sounds good, too. Check out these rashes. Who knows what they’re from, but I’m itchy all over!” He pulled up his shirt.

“That’s weird and I didn’t need to hear that,” Hayley said, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of straw, “or see that.”

They lay down on a grassy hill.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay at an inn,” Philip said, brushing his hair back, “lots of eyes, and lots of greedy men ready to sell us out for a quick buck.”

Anthony swallowed his food. “Oh relax, you old-stick-in-the-mud. No one’s gonna find us.”

Philip pushed his glasses up his nose a little too hastily. “What do you mean no one’s going to find us? We’ve been spotted dozens of times; we’ve got Spectre Squadrons chasing us led by a Spectre Man who personally hates you. We almost had a clean break but your mushroom mishap back there basically posted a ‘colossal’ sign that said ‘the invoker you’re searching for is here.’”

“Whoa now,” Anthony sat up, “my monsters have saved our butts more than you know. Don’t you go blaming it on them.”

“I am!” Philip shouted, “you gotta get them under control.”

“Hey man,” Anthony narrowed his eyes, “how dare you.”

“I’m just giving some advice, what, can’t take it?”

“Hey, be nice you guys…” Hayley tried to intervene.

“You have no idea how these things affect my mind, you have no idea what it takes to control them or even create them! So don’t you tell me what to do!”

“I have to! I’m trying to protect you but it’s hard when you’re being such a loose cannon!”

“Well cut it out! I never asked you to watch out for me! You’re not my damn dad!” Anthony snapped.

Philip, taken aback, hung his head. “Anthony…I—”

“Whatever man, I don’t want to hear it. I’m going on a walk. C’mon Hayley, let’s get out of here. Hayley’s the one who’s got my back, ain’t that right Haystack?”

That was the last straw for Philip, her unspoken betrayal on the tip of his tongue. “Fine! Get out of here. Go get caught. See if I care.”

Hayley wrung her hands, distraught. “Anthony…”

The Rogue Invoker summoned a majestic emerald-green stag. It pawed the ground impatiently, and he took off galloping furiously down the gravel path.

“See that’s what I’m talking about!” Philip yelled after him, “why do you even need a deer right now?”

Hayley, torn between the two, looked back and forth between them. Finally, when it became apparent Philip wasn’t going to move she took off after Anthony, gravel crunching under her boots.

“You’re supposed to watch after him, not me!” she shouted back, “what kind of friend are you?”

#

Anthony knew he shouldn’t have invoked, it was rash and he knew he did it to make Philip mad; still, he stubbornly rode the green stag through the park. I dare any Spectre Squadron to tangle with me right now, he thought, clutching the reins tightly.

“Nice horse,” someone said.

Anthony looked down, surprised. Staring back up at him were three glum teenagers, a little older than him. They were pimply, had bad haircuts, and were simply dressed.

“Thanks,” he said, unsure of whether he should be worried or not. Are they gonna tell the CDF? Do they care? Do they even know that it’s not a horse? It’s totally a deer. Elk. Whatever ungulate…uh oh, are they park weirdos?

“You know,” said one of them, a lanky boy with a large nose, “back when I was about eight, I could make something like that.”

“Yea, I remember that!” squeaked another in a pubescent voice, “man, being invokers was awesome. I almost made a colossus one time.”

The short pubescent boy—sporting an unruly mess of orange hair—smirked at Anthony challengingly.

“Come off it Stubbs, you didn’t make no colossus. Didn’t even come close.” said the third boy, a strapping young man with broad shoulders and bright eyes, “unless you call human-sized things colossus, in which case that stag there is an ultra-colossus!”

He and the lanky boy started laughing. Stubbs balled his tiny hands into tiny fists. “Jory, you know if I could still summon I would kick your butt!”

The broad-shouldered kid laughed even louder. “Don’t make threats you can’t back up, Stubbs!”

“Hold on,” Anthony said, dismounting, “you guys used to be invokers?”

“Yea,” said the lanky boy with the big nose, “back in the day.”

“The best I ever invoked was when I was seven,” said Jory, mournfully, “a gorgeous lookin’ gold tiger. He was like a familiar to me. Ain’t that right, Tim? You was always summoning the same thing over and over, too.”

The lanky boy with the big nose nodded. “My favorite was this treant. I always climbed up into its branches and pretended I was a ranger—but a good ranger, ya know?”

Stubbs sighed. “If only I could still do it…the powers go away when you get older, you better enjoy it while you can. Say…” he jabbed a sausage-like finger at Anthony, “ain’t you a little old to be invoking? You gotta be what, twelve?”

“Thirteen.” Anthony said stiffly. He wasn’t sure if he liked talking to these teenagers.

“Wow, and still going strong huh?” Jory said. “I’m pretty jealous…I arced down when I was twelve. Life’s really not the same.”

“What do you mean?” Anthony asked. Having his powers go away was something people always talked about. He didn’t like the sound of it.

Jory gazed at the sky as he began talking, a wistful air about him. “I tell you man, invoking is tops. One day you’re the talk of the town—everyone knows you, wants your help, wants to be around you, hey look at this kid, he sure is somethin’, they all say. Then your birthdays go by and the monsters you summon are smaller and smaller and one morning you wake up and you just can’t do it anymore. It’s like part of you dies…like as a kid you spend your sunny years flying in the clouds and then boom you’re an adult and you come crashing to the ground and you can never have those flying days again. The people go away, they forget your name, that kid was some kid wasn’t he? Shame he lost his powers, well they all do sometime, they say.”

Jory kicked at the immaculate turf lawn of the park until the point of his worn shoes dug a small hole. A earthworm floundered about on the grass, annoyed by the sudden uproot and subsequent sunlight. Stubbs and Tim nodded their agreement. “You’re gonna lose your powers soon, kiddo,” said Stubbs, “then you ain’t gonna be some hotshot riding around on a green horse. You gonna be a regular ol’ citizen like the rest of us. Soon there won’t be nothing special about you.”

“I’m not going to lose my powers,” said Anthony stubbornly, trying to hide his actual worry. It was becoming difficult to maintain the stag’s presence—like holding a pot of water at arm’s length.

“It’d be almost better if you did,” said Jory. “you know they’ve been rounding up invokers lately? I heard they raided Mint Village a few weeks ago. A majorly powerful invoker lived there. Borges got him, poor guy.”

“Only the one invoker from Mint Village?” Anthony asked.

“Yea, sucks for him!” Stubbs cut in, excited and rude, “Hey Jory, remember when the pissos came around our houses a few years ago ’cause they thought we were still invokers? Lucky for us we couldn’t invoke anymore…we’d be dead meat if they even saw so much as a blue chicken! Hah!”

“Shut up, Stubbs, we was having a conversation. Yea, just the one. Really does suck to be him though.”

“Why?”

“Borges gonna make a child-psycho-soldier out of him. Special Service Invokers; SSI or something like that. I never seen one, but I heard they do major damage and that the monsters they make are some freaky stuff…like ghouls, vampires, giant skeletons…”

“I hear the Borges get into their brains and jack ’em up with drugs and electricity,” grinned Stubbs, “zap, zap! That’s why all their monsters is creepy.”

“Hey, you alright man?” said Tim to Anthony, who was staring angrily at Stubbs, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

“Geez, Stubbs, you got him all worked up,” said Jory, sitting up, “how you gonna talk about what the Borges are doing to invokers to an invoker? You idiot.”

He smacked Stubbs on the back of the head.

“He just needs a dose of reality,” Stubbs scowled.

“Yea, well, we’re living doses of reality,” said Jory, grinning sadly as he sat back down, “we’re a bunch of hotshot invokers who burnt out. Look at us now!”

Anthony couldn’t tell if Jory was sad or happy or genuine or anything. He didn’t know what to say either. He knew how it felt to invoke—it was a grand feeling, uplifting and empowering, like your mind was rushing a million miles an hour, imagery flying through your body, coming out your fingertips and manifesting physically with the grandeur of shooting stars. How could he talk to someone who had once had it all and then lost it?

“I…I don’t know how to help you,” he faltered.

Jory laughed. “You don’t need to help us man, anymore than you can help someone who is dying of Sweet Fever. We died our first death, we’re just waiting for our second.”

“Geez man, you don’t gotta put it like that,” said Tim.

“Yea, I think that’s kind of unfair,” protested Anthony, “I’m sure life is still pretty cool.”

“Is it, man? You still have your powers. Come back in a year, after you lose your powers—if we’re all still around then—then tell me that life is still ‘pretty cool’. We were heroes. Now we are nothing.”

Jory used his the point of his foot to cut the earthworm in half.

#

“There you are!” said Hayley, finally shuffling up to Anthony, her straw jacket noisily rustling . She noticed the three boys he was talking to.

“Who are these clowns?”

“Hey,” said Stubbs, getting up, “watch your tone you scarecrow, or I’ll…”

His voice trailed off as Hayley took off her hood, shaking the straw out of her short brown hair. Her gold eyes shone warmly in the sunlight and she flashed a winning smile at the them.

Stubbs watched in head-over-heels adoration as she scratched nose. Jory and Tim were also similarly awestruck, dumbfoundedly staring at her.

“You’ll what, short-stack?” she stared him down ferociously, her smile gone.

“Nothing Miss! Nothing at all! Stubbs at your service, I’m a master invoker, I think we got off to the wrong start, I, uh, I—”

“What my fellow invoker means to say, Miss,” said Tim, sliding in fluidly, “is that we sure are obliged to meet such a beautiful gal as you. My name is Tim and may I say that you sure are pretty!”

Hayley’s grin returned and she cocked an eyebrow, scrunching her freckly face into one wrinkled with amused delight.

Anthony squinted. Are these guys for real? Have they never seen a girl before? Ugh. Is Hayley for real? I’ve never seen her smile like that.

“Hold on there,” said Jory, in a much deeper voice than he had used previously, “don’t be going around telling people that you are invokers when you aren’t! How are you going to tell lies to a lady as beautiful as this one?”

“Well I do declare!” Hayley blushed. Anthony saw her cock another eyebrow but pull it back in.

“Say, you hungry? Go ahead and take my arm, let’s go get some food at the market. I know this place that makes great sourdough and salami.”

Jory offered his muscular arm, flexing the giant limb in an obnoxiously obvious way.

“That sounds delicious! Don’t mind if I do, I haven’t eaten yet, I love bread! Do you work out?” she tittered. Anthony coughed loudly and made a gagging noise. Hayley gave him a murderous look then changed it back into a smile as she looked at Jory. She giggled madly—a seagull’s screech—as they walked out of the park. Stubbs and Tim gazed longingly after them.

“Man! Is she your friend? Boy, she’s a doozie.” Stubbs said dreamily. Tim nodded and grinned goofily.

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Hey, you can invoke!” said Stubbs eagerily, “how’s about you invoke somethin’, but make it look like it’s me so that it will impress your friend and make her like me?”

“In your dreams.”

“Ah, don’t be such a stickler. I just need some command level stuff. Nothin’ that’ll put you on the map, like a colossus or somethin’. I just need her to notice me! I’m gonna die if I don’t talk to her!”

“You are not gonna die. Sheesh. I gotta go and find an inn anyway, so we might as well go follow them back into the market.”

Stubbs whooped happily. “Greatest day of my life! What’s her name? Hayley? It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard! Hayley, Hayley, Hayley. Haaaaayley!”

Anthony groaned.

#

Philip wandered in circles amongst the hedge gardens, crushed. What am I doing? How could I have let him get to me like that? Of course he’s mad, he just wants to play and create and he doesn’t know what is going on. He’s just a kid, and I’m almost a grown man.

He stared into the dead eyes of the bust of some famous Borges aristocrat.

“I never asked you to watch out for me! You’re not my damn dad!”

A memory floated back to Philip…Anthony barely walking…Munroe in his mother’s arms…They were all standing in the doorway, seeing off a tall black-bearded man with a blue rucksack slung over his shoulder. The father kissed the wife, a full, enveloping one, one that would have to suffice for the time he’d be gone. He kissed a baby Munroe on the forehead and then leaned down to Anthony to kiss him and muss his black hair. He then turned to Philip—a slight scrawny boy with oversized glasses and baggy pants, standing with a rake in his hand and a book shoved in his back pocket, an outside observer of an intimate moment. Captain Mannis clapped Philip on the shoulder.

“Philip, I know I only asked you to do the yardwork around here, but while I’m gone I would like you to keep an eye on my boys. They are going to need someone to look up to, and unfortunately I will not be able to provide that.” His dark eyes flashed, but then he smiled and the anger was gone.

“Gee, Uncle Jon, I-I don’t know if…if I’m good enough f-for that!” Philip stuttered. He was as nervous then as he is now, and the rake had trembled in his slight grip.

Anthony’s father laughed, then looked him in the eyes. “Philip, you are the smartest, wisest, and most capable boy in this town. You are good enough for everything! Be a good friend for my sons. I will be back before you know it, and you’ll be a strong young man who’ll be able to kick my butt!”

Philip had smiled and stood a little straighter. “I promise!”

Captain Mannis laughed again, winked at his wife, ruffled Philip’s already messy hair, and made to jaunt down to a waiting battlewagon.

“Ah, one more thing,” he turned back. He unwrapped a red scarf from around his neck and draped it around his wife’s neck.

“Hold this for me till I get back, Ma.” He winked to her.

The hoverbus was filled with grizzled men, some with guns and all with similar blue rucksacks. Anthony’s father swung up and took the seat next to Darius. The battlewagon started to hum, and Anthony’s father waved to them.

“Long live the OZM!” he called as he departed, fist raised high above his head.

The flashbacks came and went faster and faster…Anthony and Munroe began developing their powers—Munroe even before he could walk…Philip reading to them and showing them pictures of beasts that they then created immediately…Summoning at Hillside Stage…the Mint Village Raid…Hayley’s tearful confession in Melville while Anthony slept…I will do what it takes to keep him safe, he had said to Hayley.

“Great, what have I done.” Philip muttered to himself. “I’m a guardian of a potential visionary, and because I lost my temper I don’t know where one of the most powerful invokers in history went.”

He patted the bust on the head and went towards the exit of the park.

#

The inn’s food courtyard was a conglomerated mass of travelers of all sorts: businessmen, entertainers, students, and soldiers all gathered together for a common purpose. A ring of food stands—each contributing to the melting pot of wonderful smells and sounds—surrounded the eating tables where everyone, regardless of stature, ate. At one of these tables, Hayley was screech-laughing so hard at something Jory said she snorted and a piece of salami flew out of her mouth. Jory was mesmerized, as were—from another table—Stubbs and Tim.

“That is one fascinating girl.” Tim drooled. “Hey, you okay, Anthony?”

“Yea, yea, I was uh, just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” he had been trying to listen in Hayley and Jory’s conversation.

“…You know what I love about this place,” Jory was saying, “everyone eats together. It’s communal. It doesn’t matter who you are, you sit down with everyone else.”

Hayley batted her long eyelashes and whispered something in his ear.

“Hey hey, check out the fuzz,” said Stubbs, nudging Anthony. Much to Anthony’s dismay, a Spectre Man in heavy black boots and a thick black trenchcoat had walked into the common area. The Spectre Man’s full-faced helmet had a distinct jagged crack in it…

“What a sight,” Stubbs mused, “wonder what jacked up his helmet so bad. I heard those things can take a full blast from a pulse shotgun.”

They watched Officer Raffick glance around the area. Looking for something to eat? Anthony thought, or is he looking for me?

He kept watching as Raffick sat down heavily at a table and leaned his giant railgun against it. Battered CDF agents came in, four, five, six of them—dusty and dirty—and sat down next to Raffick. The people around them edged away slightly or moved tables. Despite the apparent raggedness of that squadron, CDF were CDF, and very few wanted anything to do with them.

“Holy hell,” said Tim, “those guys got their butt kicked.”

Those are some of the officers from the Spectre Squadron from the road, Anthony realized. He recognized the tall, hulking one named Ninars and the woman named Quinn. Where are the rest of them? In the hospital?

Raffick took off his helmet and placed it on the table tiredly, and for the first time Anthony saw his full face. He seemed about forty years old with bright blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. Yet there were dark rings under those eyes, and his face was lined with stress. In addition, he had the gash running from his top left eyebrow down that side of his face to right above his lip.

Tim whistled. “That’s a mother of a scar.”

I did that, Anthony thought. I did all of that.

He watched Officer Quinn bring a platter of beef stew to the table, and Raffick and the other officers dug in hungrily, family-style. The Spectre Man chewed absent-mindedly, staring off into space; the officers around him spoke in low voices.

“Much as I’m supposed to hate those dudes, that’s the sign of a legit officer,” Tim said, “a man that eats with his team in the food court.”

Stubbs nodded in agreement. “Yea. People that don’t eat with people, ain’t people.”

Anthony bobbed his head. Poor guy, foiled at every turn. I almost feel bad for him. But I shouldn’t, he remembered, he’s evil. Took my home. Kidnapped my family. No way in hell.

He clenched his fists and watched Raffick blink and furrow his eyebrows, as if he was noticing something. The officer raised his head, looked again, and tapped Quinn’s shoulder; pointing at a person. Anthony followed Raffick’s line of sight…then let out a groan as he realized that the person to whom he was pointing was Hayley.