Natural Ordermage

LVII

The early morning was almost chill for Luba, and the warmth radiating up from the still-hot slag was welcome for most of the loaders working to shovel the chunks of waste into the disposal wagon, as was the heat radiating from the blast furnace above the slag pile. A crew of ten breakers stood well above the crew in which Blacktop worked. The breakers on the top of the slag pile carried sledges and bars to turn the solidified waste into chunks that could be carted away.

“Loaders! Stand and rest!” called the overseer in charge of the loaders. “Sloggers! Forward.”

The disposal wagon pulled away, slowly at first.

Blacktop and the other loaders waited for the next disposal wagon, taking what rest they could before they once more had to shovel the broken chunks of slag into the wagon.

“Not taking this no more!” The tall man at one end of the slag breaking team abruptly straightened. He lifted the pointed iron bar and shifted it in his hand so that it was held like a javelin.

Without pausing, he hurled it directly at the overseer who stood above him and a good ten cubits to the south. The overseer jumped sideways, but his boots slid out from under him, and he fell and then rolled and skidded a good fifteen cubits down the side of the slag heap.

“Loaders!” snapped the overseer in charge of Blacktop’s crew, “stand fast. Don’t move.”

Blacktop froze, only letting his eyes move to watch what was happening on the slag heap well above them.

The overseer picked himself up, almost resigned in his posture, but he did not attempt to walk or climb back up the slope. Instead, he walked sideways, back south, and away from the breaker crew.

Five of the other breakers dropped their bars and sledges and also hurried after the overseer.

The man who had thrown the first bar scrambled southward and picked up another bar, and then a second.

“Stand fast, Grunt!” snapped the loader overseer. To back up his order, he cracked the lash just above the line of loaders, close enough that Blacktop could feel the brief breeze created by the lash.

In front of Blacktop, Grunt stiffened.

The unruly breaker began to trot after the overseer, throwing a second bar, and then the third. “Take that, you frigging bastard!” The breaker stopped.

Blacktop could not see why, but then, the overseer and the breakers who had followed him were out of his sight on the far end of the slag pile.

For several moments, nothing happened. Above and behind the slag pile, the massive blast furnace continued to roar. Warmth still seeped from the slag near the top of the pile. Two more breakers dropped their bars and followed the overseer.

The unruly breaker picked up another bar and held it, brandishing it, but not hurling it.

Blacktop waited, glad he was not shoveling the sharp-edged slag, and glad that he was not among the three remaining breakers, although he could not have explained why.

The wild breaker raised the iron bar, holding it before him.

A bolt of white flame arced from out of Blacktop’s sight, but did not strike the man or the bar, instead spraying away from both, as if something unseen had acted as a shield.

“Frig you, white bastard!” called the wild breaker.

A second bolt of white flame arched out of the sky, and this time struck the iron bar. Flame sprayed off the iron and splattered into the breaker.

The man screamed and dropped the bar.

The third bolt enveloped the man, and flame flared everywhere. When it cleared, only ashes and dust swirled in the air, settling slowly.

Several moments passed before a figure in khaki trousers and shirt, with black boots and belt, appeared on the slag pile above the loaders. She pointed at the two breakers who stood at the end of the pile. “You two! You did not follow the overseer. You did nothing against the malefactor. Those who do not follow order or combat evil are evil.”

One breaker fell to his knees. The other looked blankly at the woman.

Two bolts of white fire followed, leaving no trace of either breaker.

The uniformed woman turned and left, without another word.

“You saw the mage-guard,” called the overseer. “That is what happens to anyone who fails in their duty. Anyone!” After a pause, he added, “Loaders, ready!”

Blacktop moved into position, waiting for the wagon side to drop so that he could begin to shovel slag into the disposal wagon.

Thoughts churned through his mind. Had he seen that before? He had known that something terrible would happen to the breaker who had tried to harm the overseer. He had known, but he could not remember ever having seen it happen. He had heard of mage-guards, but he had not seen one before. Or had he?

Why couldn’t he remember?