264: The Rebels of Samar Patag (Part Two) (Patreon)

The demon swung at Vir, his fist coming wide and well-announced. Vir didn’t even have to step away to avoid it; a simple shift of his neck, and the punch sailed by harmlessly.

The attacks came in quick succession, from all directions. Often, three or more attacks threatened him simultaneously. All to no avail.

As Vir fluidly dodged the fists and legs, mostly fists and legs, blending Kalari arts with his own fighting style honed by battle Ash Beasts, the frustrated attackers started using more lethal weapons.

Soon, talwars, scimitars, and even some katars and spears all came at him.

“Why aren’t you hitting him?” a rebel snapped.

“I could say the same for you! He’s as slippery as an eel!”

The rebels’ attacks grew more desperate with each missed swing.

Just a little longer, Vir thought, easily avoiding the lethal strikes. Had he been surrounded by trained warriors, it might’ve been a different story, but these rebels were not only weak and malnourished, they were also untrained. Not one of them belonged to a Warrior Calling, after all. Whatever they’d learned, they’d scraped together on their own. And unlike Vir, they hadn’t had hordes of Ash Beasts to temper them.

The rebels’ strikes came more wildly now, driven by frustration and anger. They were faster, yes, but also desperate, and thus less accurate.

A lull in the fight ensued. The attackers heaved for breath.

“How?” someone rasped. “How is he unharmed? What magic is this?”

“No magic,” Vir replied. “Only skill. You’ve had your chance. Now it’s my turn.”

Vir activated Haste and Blinked at the nearest rebel, using his momentum to drive a punch to the demon’s stomach that sent him into a fit of retches on the ground.

Well before his foe collapsed, Vir was already taking down his next target. Then the next.

It was good practice for Haste. He’d been trying to use the ability in short, quick bursts to conserve it. Opponents such as these made for for ideal training, and he found his control over the ability improving with each rebel downed. He waited longer to activate it and canceled it sooner.

Less than a minute after the fight began, the rambunctious demons calling for the sacking of the Chitran lay groaning on the floor, nursing their injuries.

At their center stood Vir, unharmed, like the eye of a storm.

“I’ve left you with only bruises and minor injuries,” he said. “Nothing that will cripple you.”

“See?” someone said. “He can’t kill us! He doesn’t have the grit! He’s got nothing!”

“Fool!” A familiar voice thundered. It belonged to a scowling woman who strode into the warehouse as if she owned it.

It was Greesha, and she was not happy.

“Any warrior worth his salt knows just how much easier it is to kill than incapacitate. Vaak here has spared your lives—not because he couldn’t kill you—but because he possesses such mastery over his might that he chose not to kill you. Do not mistake expertise for weakness, you useless chals!”

Greesha was right, of course. Vir was surprised to find her here, and even more surprised to see her sticking up for him. While he knew Greesha regarded him as crucial to the future of demonkind, their initial meeting hadn’t given him the impression that she was especially fond of him personally.

Vir nodded appreciatively at the seer, who backed away, yielding the room to him.

“You called me a coward,” Vir said, addressing the groaning rebels. “I braved the Ash. I fought the beasts of your nightmares, and I fought them by the hundreds. I am no coward. But you’re right. I’m scared.

“Not for you. For everyone else. For all the souls that will suffer the consequences of your actions.”

“What do you mean?” someone said.

“I decimated you in minutes. Had I wanted to kill you, I’d have taken half that time. And yet, the Chitran have dozens of warriors skilled enough to keep me occupied. Against them? You’d be fodder. Nothing more. Hardly even a warmup.”

“That’s not true… How can you know that?” someone said, but his defeated voice said it all.

“If, by some miracle, you get past the soldiers, how are you going to take the keep? How will you siege the castle walls? How will you breach the gate? You have no artillery. You have no magic. No leadership, and no organization.”

“If we can at least take down some of those Ash damned chals, it’ll have been worth it, no matter the outcome,” a rebel said, though the fire in his voice was gone.

“Yes, many will die,” Vir said. “But it will not be the Kothis. It’ll be you. It’ll be Janani. It’ll be the orphans. The Outcasts. The slum dwellers. It’ll be Gargans that pay the ultimate price. What’s more—you’d be giving the Chits the excuse they’ve always wanted. You’d give them the perfect reason to wipe out the rest of the Gargans in Samar Patag. They’ll retaliate against every man, woman, and child. All to set an example. So tell me, do you really want their blood on your hands?”

“Easy for you to say, hiding behind that mask,” a demon spat.

“You fault me for keeping my identity a secret when I’ve brought you your first victories in a decade?”

There was no response, but Vir wasn’t done. He had to beat the hopelessness of their situation so thoroughly, they’d never dream of doing anything so rash ever again.

“Let’s say,” Vir continued, “that Adinat, Vera, and Badrak bless you with divine fortune, and that, against all odds, you somehow take the keep and liberate Samar Patag from the Chitran. The Kothi army at the Ash Boundary numbers over twenty thousand. What will you do when they inevitably march back to retake the city? How will you, with your ragtag band of civilians, defend this city?”

Vir locked eyes with each demon in the room. Each averted their eyes. “As I feared—you won’t. You’ll perish. Samar Patag will burn, and your legacy will be that of extremist zealots who doomed what was left of the Garga. You’ll be cursed by future generations as the fools who ended what the Chitran had begun.”

Vir let out a long breath. He hadn’t meant to get so animated, but he couldn’t help himself. The rebels’ selfishness was going to get everyone killed.

“Then what would you have us do?” Janani asked softly, tears in her eyes. “Would you have us give up?”

All eyes turned to Vir, who let the tension drain from his shoulders.

“No. No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’ve done with Vaak—with this mask,” he said, pointing to his masked face, “was for the Garga. But this is not the way. If we truly wish for a better world, we must tread lightly. We must lay the foundation, and, only when we are ready, do we act.”

“Do you have a plan, then?” Janani asked.

“I do. The Gargan Warrior Callings. Are they all dead?” Vir asked.

Janani shook her head. “No. Many perished in the sacking of Samar Patag, but many more surrendered when it was obvious we would lose. They, like us, are Outcasts now.”

“But where did they go?” Vir asked. “The Chitrans wouldn’t have sent them away. They’d keep them under their thumb. Unless…”

Vir’s eyes widened in realization. Realization… and horror.

“The Ash Boundary.”

“That’s right,” one of the rebels said. “While you were off training in the Ash, our warriors have been forced to fend off the beasts that come through the Boundary each and every day.”

“It would ordinarily be the Chitran’s responsibility,” Janani said, “but they claim that due to the ‘injustices’ committed by the Garga throughout history, that it is only fair to push that burden onto our warriors. They are run dry, fighting every waking hour of each day without rest…”

Vir didn’t immediately reply. Any successful coup would need their support. But how to get it? The Boundary was far, and it’d be heavily fortified with Chitran.

To say nothing of the physical and mental state of the Gargans there. Organizing a coup in Samar Patag was one thing. Freeing the Gargans at the Boundary was quite another.

Though the plight of the Warrior Outcasts was a tragedy, it was not one Vir could solve right now. It’d have to be enough knowing they were alive.

“We can’t rely on their help,” Vir said. “Whatever we do, we have to do alone. From within.”

“Which is?”

“Hear me,” Vir said, raising his voice. “There will come a day when we strike. When we take back what is rightfully ours. When we rise up against the Chitran and restore Garga to its former glory. But that day is not yet upon us.

“To prepare, we must train. We must organize. You are laborers. Merchants, farmers, traders. Most of you don’t even know how to hold a weapon. I will teach you the ways of the warrior. I will show you the basics, and from there, you must ply yourselves diligently. For the day you are called upon to act.”

“And until then?” another demon—a farmer wearing overalls—asked. “Are we to live as we are? In squalor and destitution? Are we to do nothing to better our situation?”

“No,” Vir replied, looking the demon in the eye. “As I said, I created Vaak for a reason.”

“You’ll protect us, then?”

Hopeful murmurs sounded through the room.

“I will do my part. But I won’t be around to save each one of you. Vaak will keep you safe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vaak isn’t just me anymore,” Vir said. “It’s you. It’s Janani. It’s even Bolin. Vaak is a symbol. One that the Chitrans fear and respect. So long as Vaak’s identity is kept a mystery, it will keep you safe.”

“They’ll ransack the slums to find you!” a woman said.

“No,” Vir replied. “They won’t. They think Vaak is a Chitran Warrior Calling in disguise. Someone high up. Someone with connections. They don’t have the means and political connections to pry into my identity, and they can’t risk acting without knowing for sure. That is, unless Vaak does something stupid enough to force governor Asuman’s hand.”

“You’re telling us to defend ourselves, but not to anger them? Sure, that might reduce the number of muggings, but that’s all! It won’t change an Ash Damned thing about our situation!”

Murmurs of assent spread through the rebels.

“I know,” Vir said. “Which is why I intend to personally intervene. If there is anything I can do to improve our lives in the interim, I will. But I am new here. I need your help. Tell me, what are the biggest issues plaguing Gargans? What would help the most?”

Hushed voices once again broke out. This time, there were few arguments, as the rebels discussed the matter in earnest.

Before long, everyone was volunteering their opinion.

“They take too much in taxes from us! Whatever we earn, they steal! We’re barely better than slaves.”

“No, that’s not the real issue,” someone else said. “It’s that we can’t get any of the good jobs. Forget the Outcasts, even Laborer Callings have to dredge the bottom of the barrel. When we make coppers on the silver, it’s no wonder we can’t make better lives for ourselves.”

“If I may?” Janani asked, raising her hand.

Vir nodded for her to continue.

“Everyone brings up valid points, but they all stem from one source. Asuman.”

“Indeed,” a rebel said. “If we could get rid of him…”

Janani’s eyes widened. “Oh, I wasn’t—”

“That’s right! If we can kill him, our problems will be solved. But how do we do it?”

Vir put his hands up to hush the crowd.

“Janani, tell me more about Asuman.”

Janani looked at him in panic, but Vir smiled placatingly. “I’m not considering an assassination,” Vir said, easing her concern.

Unless executed masterfully, it’d be far too easy for the Chitrans to blame the Gargans, resulting in dire consequences. Even if that worst-case outcome was somehow avoided, there was no telling if Asuman’s successor would be better or worse. Vir refused to roll the dice with other peoples’ lives so carelessly.

Janani cleared her throat. “Asuman… detests Garga.”

“More like he hates our guts,” someone else said.

“Yes, well, losing a child to the war does many things to parents,” Janani shot back, glaring at the rebel.

“His child died?” Vir asked.

“Yes,” Janani replied. “He lost his son during the invasion. He has harbored a grudge against our clan ever since.”

“If he were deposed, who would take his place?” Vir asked.

Chatter broke out again, with each rebel offering different names. It soon became clear that there was no obvious successor—a dangerous situation.

“What about Greesha?” Vir asked, eyeing the woman who’d kept mostly silent until now.

Greesha let out a short, sharp laugh. “The sun will set before I sit in the governor’s seat. I might be a Ruler Calling, but it’s only because Raja Matiman values my abilities as a Seer. Even today, I’m under constant surveillance. As an ex-Gargan, he’d never be daft enough to put me in a position of power.”

“I see,” Vir said. This was going to be a tougher nut to crack than he’d thought.

Vir fell into thought as the room broke out into arguments once again.

Eventually, Janani came up to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really wish we could do more, but…”

Vir shook his head. “If this could’ve been easily solved, it would have been, long ago. I just thought the Vaak persona would’ve helped.”

“It has!” Janani said. “It absolutely—”

Her words were cut short by a demon who broke into the warehouse, panic written all over his face.

“What’s the matter?” Greesha asked. “Is this location compromised?”

The demon shook his head. “No. Worse. There’s been a breach in the Boundary. Ash Beasts have broken through and they’re stampeding this way!”

The room fell deathly silent.