J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

Mira slid the thick padded strap over her head and let it rest on her shoulder and cross down her chest. The Lexicon rested comfortably against her hip. It felt good having it back. Without it, she’d always felt like a piece of her was missing.

“Are you serious about getting the bounty hunter and the little girl to the Tower?” Ben asked.

“Don’t forget the dog,” Mira said wryly. “He’s coming, too.”

Ben didn’t laugh, just waited for her answer.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Ben’s eyes thinned. “Just like you can’t explain your eyes.” He didn’t seem hurt so much as intrigued. “There’s never been anything you couldn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.” Mira meant it.

“If I knew the answer, would I risk it?”

She looked up at him. It was a good question. She guessed the answer was yes. Rationally, getting Zoey to the Tower might be the most important thing anyone had ever done in the Strange Lands, but she still couldn’t risk telling him. Not yet. Or maybe she was still angry with him.

“I think so,” Mira finally answered.

Ben nodded. “Then you can all come with the expedition as far as Polestar, but after that it’s too dangerous. I can’t risk the lives of my team.”

Mira was surprised at the amount of relief she felt, even if Ben had only agreed to take them as far as Polestar. It meant he would lead, he would navigate the Anomalies, he would get them through. It wouldn’t fall to her.

The moment Mira promised Zoey she would get them all to the Severed Tower, the faintest embers of an emotion had formed inside her. As they left Midnight City, the emotion began to build, growing like a cancer. It was fear, she knew. Fear of having to lead people through the Strange Lands. Like she told Holt, it was something she had done only once, and the memory of what happened still haunted her. The thought of failing Holt or Zoey in that place was petrifying.

“Thank you, Ben,” she said.

He just studied her intently. “Do you remember the first time we reached the edge of the Core? And you had to pull me back from going right in.”

“Yeah. It scared me.”

“I know. I don’t really feel fear. Everything to me is just… patterns and probabilities. Not much else. I see risk, but only enough to factor it into how I act. I don’t feel it.” He gently stroked her cheek with his fingers. “It’s one of the reasons I need you. You’re my… emotional side, Mira. You keep the other parts in check, you balance them. I know now, that’s why the Librarian decided what he did, why he made it so we could only go into the Strange Lands together.”

She was so accustomed to Ben’s touch, she almost didn’t notice it. In spite of everything, a part of her liked being close to him. It was familiar and comfortable. And that was something she hadn’t felt in awhile.

“Once we get to Polestar, you’ll come with me,” he continued. “To the Tower. Like we always talked about. You and I against the Core. We can beat it, Mira. I know it.”

He was right. They were a great team; they always had been. The Librarian had seen that. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to go with him, that the idea of casting off her burdens and promises wasn’t very attractive.

Why were things never simple?

HOLT SAT ON TOP of the thick wing of a ruined C-17 Globemaster, staring at the Crossroads around him as it emptied out, its residents all circling the drain of an uncertain future. As he did, he threw a handful of rocks, one at a time, at the back of an old air tanker, absently listening to the dull sound each made as it dented the rusted metal.

Zoey was asleep in the plane under him, Max lying next to her. The plane had been retrofitted into a visitors dorm, with three or four sleeping areas. Echo had stayed only long enough to point them to the beds, before he got pulled away into some new conflict. When Zoey fell asleep, Holt climbed up through an opening onto the roof.

The Crossroads was one of the more unique places he’d been, but it was still familiar. In a way, it was like every other place in the world now. Built on the crumbling remains of the World Before. Nothing was ever new anymore, everything was just repurposed. In its own way, it was inspiring… and sad.

Southlift had been rising and falling steadily. Full going up, empty coming down. If he turned around, he could just barely see Northlift at the opposite end of the quarry, over the tops of hundreds of rusting, forgotten aircraft carcasses. It sat silent and unmoving, underneath a horizon that just looked wrong. Darker, thinner, and wavering. More colorful, maybe, but not more cheery.

Foreboding was the word that came to mind.

Holt threw the last of the rocks, then pulled something else from a pocket. A polished black stone, something he had carried for weeks. It meant something to him. It was more than just a relic of a dance around a campfire. It represented something stronger, something that spoke of his change from isolationist to someone willing to trust.

But where had any of it gotten him?

He thought of Mira and Ben, back near the city’s center, alone. He could still see her kissing him. He saw it no matter how hard he tried to block it out. His hand gripped the stone tightly. His arm tensed. He should throw it like the others, toss it away, get rid of it. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Holt stuck the stone back in his pocket and grabbed something next to him. The Chance Generator felt warm in his hands. Pulling it from his pack had been automatic, like reaching out for an old friend.

Maybe he should just leave now, while he could. While Mira was gone and Zoey was asleep. He could just ride Southlift back up and disappear, head southeast like he’d always planned, toward the Low Marshes.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple, was it? He’d made promises. He’d told Zoey he believed in her, said he would help her however he could, and he’d meant it at the time.

But she didn’t need him. Not really. The truth was this Ben was who she needed now. Both Zoey and Mira. They needed someone to get them through the Strange Lands, and that definitely wasn’t Holt.

And then there was the Menagerie, less than a mile away, two full ships. Every time Southlift lowered down, Holt expected to see it full of pirates, all wanting to drag him back to Faust to pay for what he’d done, even if what he’d done had been the right thing.

Holt’s thoughts stopped as a bright flash to the southwest caught his eye, away from Southlift but near the edge of the quarry. It was like the sun flashing off metal.

It was gone just as quick as—

Two more flashes to the Southeast, visible near the edge again.

Holt’s eyes narrowed. Two more made three. Three of anything made a pattern. And a pattern meant something was real.

But what? What was up there? Whatever it was, it seemed to be slowly moving to either side of the city. He looked down at the beads, thought of sliding one up… just one. What would be the problem with—

“What are you doing?” It was Mira’s voice.

He looked behind him and saw her above the same opening that had let him up, standing still and looking at him.

“There’s something along the edge of the quarry,” he told her. “Something flashing.”

But Mira’s eyes were on the abacus in his hands. “I meant what are you doing with that? ”

He felt a stirring of guilt at the question. “I… I just wanted to make sure it still worked, that’s all.”

“It’s a major artifact, Holt, why wouldn’t it still work?” Mira asked with forced patience. “And you aren’t supposed to be using it, even if it does.”