J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“Tell us how you blocked the Tone,” the big one said. “Tell us how we can do it, too, and you can go.”

Mira swallowed. “What makes you think I could do it again?” She had to keep them talking.

“Heard rumors,” the quiet one told her. They kept inching closer. “About an artifact you were working on, an artifact to stop the Tone.”

“No,” Mira said, shaking her head. “It didn’t work. It won’t help you, I swear.”

The knife from the quiet kid flew through the air and stuck deep in the meat slab next to Mira. She jumped, barely resisted screaming.

“Lies? That makes us sad,” said the glasses. He drew his own knife. So did the big one. “Really sad. We can see your damn eyes from here, Toombs. Hell, we saw ’em when you strolled through the gate. We’re not idiots.”

Mira stepped back again… and felt the cold metal of the freezer wall behind her. There was nowhere to go. She watched the kids step closer, knives at the ready, but she didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t tell them about Zoey. She wouldn’t. No matter what they did.

“That’s fine, though,” said the big one. “You’ll tell us everything in the end. Everything under the sun, I promise.”

Another voice spoke over the hum of the Emitters. It wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t overbearing either. It was calm and certain, and something about it made the three big kids turn around. “I think the odds of that are rather low.”

Mira looked past the three big kids—and felt a tremendous surge of relief. Ben stood in the doorway, his eyes on the three boys. One hand rested in a pocket, the other was balancing his brass dice cube, juggling it between his knuckles, back and forth.

In a fight, it was clear he had no real chance. They were bigger than him and they were armed. The overconfident looks on their faces dropped all the same. Probably because they knew who he was. Everyone here did. Ben was the top-rated Freebooter in Midnight City, and you didn’t earn that spot without being formidable in some way.

“Fun’s over,” Ben told them. If he was intimidated by the three, he didn’t look it. “It might not seem like it, but clearing out of here is the best option you have.”

The three kids were still, their necks craned around to stare at Ben. The surprised, uncertain looks lasted a second longer—then the one with the glasses laughed out loud. The others followed.

“Brave talk for a skinny brainiac, outnumbered three-to-one. What? You hoping to outtalk us? You’re the one that oughta leave, before you get hurt.”

“It’s a mathematical certainty I won’t get hurt today. You three, however, are operating under a very different set of variables.” Ben studied each of the three in turn, then his gaze moved around the room, as if analyzing it. “The meat. The floor. And then… actually, I’m not really sure.”

Mira was just as confused as the three kids. Apparently, they’d had enough. “Kill this fool,” the one with the glasses ordered.

They all turned and advanced on Ben. He didn’t budge. But Mira saw something, something telling. As they approached, a sphere of yellow light crackled around him, then vanished.

The chains from one of the huge cuts of meat snapped apart, as if from the cold. A major coincidence, but a lucky one. The meat probably weighed several hundred pounds frozen, and when it fell, it slammed into the biggest kid, flattening him to the floor. He didn’t move.

The other two boys stepped away, startled, but then the action seemed to spur them. They charged toward Ben, their knives gleaming.

Ben just watched in curiosity.

The kid with the glasses slipped on a patch of ice as he ran, went down, and there was a sickening crack as his head hit the floor. He went limp.

The quiet kid skidded to a stop, stared in shock, and then looked at Ben.

Ben stared back calmly. “Think it through.”

The knife shook in the quiet kid’s hand. Then he made his choice. He charged one last time.

The Emitter in the corner of the room near the door exploded in a brilliant flash of green light, spraying shrapnel in an arc. Mira ducked, then heard a scream as the debris ripped into the kid. He spun and fell, and like the others, didn’t move.

Then everything was quiet. Mira opened her eyes and stared at Ben in shock. He studied the bodies of the three boys, one at a time.

“ Of course, the Emitter. It adds up.” Ben frowned, a little frustrated, and looked up at Mira for the first time. There was no hint of shame or guilt on his face. “I’m still trying to figure out the underlying algorithm. It’s… very complex.”

Mira just stared at him, still stunned by everything that had happened.

“Come on,” Ben said as he moved for the door. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

Outside the locker, Ben leaned against a railing on the winding walkway. Mira saw that they were about a third of the way up the Spire. Above them, towers and platforms stretched and wrapped around the shimmering Gravity Well at crazy angles, but Mira just stared at Ben’s back, a terrible feeling growing inside her.

“I know what you want to say.” Ben stared to the north and the ever-darkening sky there.

“You sure as hell should.” Mira’s voice quivered. “You know how dangerous it is. You know what it does to everyone who—”

“Not to me, Mira. It won’t affect me like other people.” He didn’t look at her, just stood there with his hands in his pockets. Mira wondered which one held the Chance Generator. “I couldn’t not use it, not with what’s at stake, and I don’t think it was a coincidence it came to me. I can control it. I’m probably the only one in the world who can.”

“No.” Mira shut her eyes. “You can’t. Not even you, Ben. It makes you think that, but it’s an illusion.”

“You don’t understand. Its power is growing, Mira, the farther it goes into the Strange Lands. It stays on for days at a time now. I think once I reach the Core… it’ll be on permanently.”

Mira stared at his back. Her next words were barely a whisper. “What happened to your team, Ben?”

He stiffened, hesitated… and said nothing.

Anger replaced the horror Mira felt seconds earlier. “They’re dead, aren’t they? They died because you used the Chance Generator in the Strange Lands! It killed them in order to profit you! That thing is the reason they’re dead, and if you were thinking straight, you’d see that!”

Ben finally turned around and looked at Mira, and the sight of him up close was shocking.

He was pale, looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes, where the Tone wasn’t crawling through them, were bloodshot and raw, and they locked onto hers. “I regret their loss. Never think I don’t. But their sacrifice is anything but meaningless. If I can reach the Tower, it’s worth it.”

Mira shook her head firmly. “Not like this it isn’t.”

“You just don’t see the math of it!”

“There’s no math here, Ben! The math is you don’t even know what the Severed Tower really is. No one does.” She took a step closer, glaring at him. “Do your men know, Ben? Do they know you’re using the abacus? Do they know why they’re dying one by one in random accidents?”

Ben looked away again.

Mira’s body shook with suppressed rage. She hated that artifact more than any other, more than even the horrible one she’d created all on her own. It had changed and corrupted one person she cared about, and now it was doing the same thing to another. But she would be damned if she’d let it happen.

“You have to stop, Ben. If you don’t… I’ll tell your men the truth. Tell them what you’ve done, and that the deaths of their friends are on you. I will, Ben, I swear to God I will, and your expedition will be over. Tell me you understand what I’m saying to you.”