J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

As she spoke, Ben looked back at her, and something passed over his face. A look she had never seen from him, something so foreign in Ben Aubertine’s eyes it was chilling. She saw rage. Anger. Every black, vile emotion someone could feel drifted in and out of his eyes…

…and then vanished, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

He looked at her oddly, studying her as if for the first time, as if he had woken from some sort of dream.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, and she heard an audible shake in his voice. “Maybe… I can’t control it.”

Relief flooded through Mira. She moved closer to him. “You’re stronger than this. Holt gave up the artifact, and he had it longer than you. You can do it, too. I’ll help you.”

Ben stared at her, thoughts swirling in his head. “If I do, will you go to the Tower? Tonight? Will you leave with me?”

The question startled her. She felt a rush of confusion, mainly because her reaction now was so different from before. She thought of Holt, locked in the jail below with Ravan. There was no way for her to help him now. The truth was, if she wanted to get to the Tower, Ben was her best—maybe her only chance.

“Yes,” Mira told him. His face lit up in a smile filled with relief and he moved for her, but she stopped him. “Zoey has to come with us.”

His smile faded. “Mira…”

“It’s not negotiable. If you want me to come with you to the Tower, like we always talked about—Zoey has to come, too.”

He studied her a long time, weighing everything, measuring the risks and advantages, doing the math. Finally he nodded. “Okay.”

Mira threw her arms around him. He hugged her back.

“Meet me at the Anvil in an hour,” she whispered to him. “I have to destroy my artifact. We’ll destroy the Chance Generator, too, then leave.”

Ben was confused. “The Chance Generator is a fourth-ring artifact. So are the components in yours. We can’t destroy them here.”

“I think we’re in the fourth ring, Ben. Right now.” Ben raised an eyebrow at that. “I think the Strange Lands are growing, and I think I know why. I also think it’s going to get worse.”

Mira watched the old look of curiosity appear, the one he wore when he found something new to solve, something to figure out and break down and understand. It was good to see it.

“I’ll tell you at the Anvil,” she said. “I’ll tell you everything. Okay?”

Ben nodded. When they parted, Mira raced back down the walkway towards the infirmary to get her things. She felt light on her feet, and it wasn’t just the low gravity of the Spire. Ben would lead now, she knew. Ben would shoulder the weight of the responsibility she had been carrying, he would take the fear and the worry on himself. Everything would be fine now.

She laughed as she ran, circling the massive column of light. She didn’t even notice the strange, fragmented hissing sound filling the air from the Gravity Well, or that it seemed worse— much worse, than before.

THE OLD SHERIFF’S OFFICE was still in good condition, probably a result of both the Strange Lands’ slowing of time and the fact that Polestar clearly used it often as a brig. The entire length of the back wall was divided into five cells, with cast-iron bars on one side and the brick wall of the building on the other.

Outside the cells, the old desks stood collecting dust. Holt could see their things lying well out of reach. Their packs and guns, including his own, and the big, wooden crate that Ravan’s men had been carrying this whole time.

When they’d arrived, there had only been one other person in the cells, the rest were empty. Now each held four or five Menagerie apiece, and Holt was in the next-to-last one, along with Ravan and two of her men.

The lone figure in the cell next to them sat in a corner covered in shadows, but it didn’t look like he cared much whether he had company or not. He never even looked in their direction.

Holt sat with his back against the brick wall, staring up at the skylight at the top of the ceiling, two dozen feet above them and out of reach. It flashed occasionally in different colors, and it was always followed by the rolling, fragmented thunder from outside. That crazy storm was still out there, but it sounded a little farther away now.

Ravan paced back and forth, staring past the bars. When they’d first arrived, she’d tested them, tried to find weaknesses, looked at the locks, but there was nothing she could do. They were locked up good and tight, but still she paced back and forth like a caged tiger.

“Sit down, you’re making me queasy,” Holt told her without taking his eyes off the flashing skylight.

“There’s always a way out,” she replied. “Always.”

“You never liked being locked up. Only thing I ever saw get to you.”

“Drives me crazy.” She kicked the door again. It didn’t budge. “Makes me want to tear my eyes out.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Holt replied pointedly. “Just try to relax. They’ll let us loose once the storms break up. They just don’t want you in the city.”

She turned and looked at him. “They don’t want us in the city, you mean.”

She was right. He was in the same cell as them, wasn’t he? He wondered what Mira was doing, wondered if Zoey was okay. She’d looked bad when he’d been taken away.

“What are you doing here, Holt?” Ravan asked. She was staring at him in genuine confusion. “It has to do with that kid, doesn’t it? It’s easy to figure. You don’t bring a little girl to a place like this, but that’s what you’re doing, so it has to involve her. She’s the only thing that doesn’t fit.”

“It’s… complicated.”

“It must be,” Ravan replied. “Holt Hawkins hates artifacts. Going into the Strange Lands would be the last thing he’d ever do.”

Holt studied her. She wanted to know the truth. But how did he tell her? “I’m just not sure it’s something you would believe.”

Pain flashed in Ravan’s eyes again. “Never even crosses your mind, does it? That I might surprise you? If you ever took the time to try, maybe you’d find I’m more than what you think.”

“Ravan, I didn’t mean—”

“Just forget it,” she said, and turned back around.

Watching her, it occurred to him that he had probably hurt Ravan more than anyone else he’d ever known. And he seemed to do it, over and over again. Maybe it was because in his mind, Ravan was indestructible; she could take anything the world dished out, and so he subconsciously gave himself license to disregard her feelings. Yet regardless of the image she presented, Ravan was human, she felt pain. And she deserved better.

Still, Zoey’s secret was a dangerous one, and the fewer people who knew it, the better. She could stop the Tone, and he didn’t like the idea of the Menagerie pirates around them learning it. Who knew what they were likely to do if they did. Then again, he’d probably never see Mira and Zoey again, or even Max. He was alone now.

Holt looked back up at Ravan. “Me being here isn’t any more surprising than you being here. Far as I remember, Tiberius was never interested in the Strange Lands.”

Ravan laughed. “Before you, you mean.”

Holt stared at her, confused. “Me?”

“After Archer died, Tiberius had to find another way to preserve his legacy,” Ravan continued, still not looking at him. “And there’s only one other option, isn’t there?”

The answer occurred to Holt immediately. “Avril,” he said. Ravan didn’t answer him, but she didn’t need to. It was the only thing that made sense. “You’re here to find her?”