J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“Already found her,” Ravan said. “Saw her a few days ago, least I think I did. She’s with the White Helix.”

The White Helix? If Ravan was here for them, Tiberius had basically sent her on a suicide mission. That didn’t make sense, though. Ravan was one of Tiberius’s best leaders, and he was a master strategist. He’d never risk her life lightly, even if it meant getting Avril back. Then again, he was also beyond ruthless.

“From what I’ve heard, the White Helix don’t strike me like the kind of group who hands over one of their own,” Holt said. “Even if she is the daughter of Tiberius Marseille.”

“Probably not. But they would trade for her.”

Instinctively, Holt looked past Ravan, past the bars, to where the Polestar guards had put their gear. Sitting there among it all was the big crate Ravan’s men had been lugging with them this entire time.

“Any arrangements you have with the White Helix are sacrosanct,” a disapproving voice interrupted them. The figure in the other cell rose to his feet and moved toward Holt and Ravan with the controlled grace of someone used to doing far more agile things than simply walking. “They shouldn’t be discussed openly.”

Holt could see him clearly now—black and gray clothing, boots, cargo pants, tucked-in shirt, a vest with pockets, utility belts. A boy, eighteen maybe, the Tone creeping through his eyes.

Ravan studied the boy warily. “Him, I trust. Even if he doesn’t trust me.” Holt guessed he deserved that last bit. “But you … I don’t know at all.”

The boy leaned casually against the bars. “I was sent as your escort to Sanctum. My name is Chase.”

“You’re from the White Helix?” Holt asked in surprise. Chase nodded once.

Ravan frowned. “Well that’s just great, isn’t it? Hell of an escort, if you’re gonna be locked up in the same damn jail we are.”

Chase smiled. “I might be in the same jail, but I’m not locked up. When the time is right, we’ll leave for Sanctum.”

Holt studied the boy and his calm, dangerous demeanor. “Are you saying you got caught on purpose—to meet the Menagerie here?”

The kid shrugged. “You were told you would be met at Polestar, weren’t you? Freebooters and Helix have no love for each other, and finding one alone in the landscape would be irresistible. They would capture him and bring him exactly where he needed to be. It’s always easier to let the water carry you toward your goal, rather than swim against a current.”

Holt looked at the bruises and cuts on his face. The guards obviously hadn’t been gentle with him. If he considered that the “easy” route, Holt hated to see see a tough one.

“Fine,” Ravan said in annoyance. The boy’s entrance had had an effect, but she was growing less impressed now. “When will this ‘right time’ be?”

The Helix shrugged and moved back to his dark corner. “No way to know, but it will come.” He sank down into the shadows again and blended in with them. “The Tower wills it.”

Holt and Ravan looked at each other skeptically.

MIRA STOOD AT THE TOP of the Spire—or, at least what was now the top. Above her, the twisted, broken poles and supports that used to hold the Orb jutted outward where it had ripped loose a day ago. It didn’t seem real, staring at the blank air where the massive sphere should be.

Below her the city twinkled the same as always, buildings and walkways and platforms winding downward toward the ground, around the massive column of bright, flickering energy. Look down and things appeared normal. Look up… and you knew the truth.

She was here for a reason, she reminded herself. She was at the city’s Anvil.

An Anvil was a major artifact that facilitated the destruction of other artifacts, and could only be used in the Strange Lands. Artifacts could only be destroyed in the ring where they were created, or, in the case of a combination, only in the ring of their most powerful component. As a result, there were several Anvils in every ring, most set up along the main routes for easy access. After all, you didn’t want to travel all the way to Polestar to destroy a first-ring combination.

Polestar’s Anvil stood on an open-air platform of polished wood and steel, surrounded by the various buildings of the city’s temporary housing—small huts built on top of each other a thousand feet above the ground, with ladders and bridges connecting them for visiting Freebooters. The platform itself stretched diagonally a hundred feet away from the main support structure, balanced on nothing more than a few thin, metal pipes, something that would have been impossible in normal gravity. The whole thing looked like it should rip loose and fall, but it didn’t.

Mira looked at the artifact in front of her. An Anvil was just that, an old anvil from a blacksmith’s forge. Metallic shelves sat next to this one, holding a variety of antique mallets. Any one of them would do the job. Place an artifact on the Anvil, take a mallet and slam it down. Any artifact or combination would shatter into pieces, provided they were in the right ring.

Mira set her packs and Lexicon on the platform, then pulled out her artifact combination, with the old pocket watch in the center. She set it on the black, scarred surface of the Anvil and stared at it, a complicated mix of emotions washing over her. She felt nothing but horror and regret when she looked at it now. In a way, this was the culmination of a long journey, one set in motion months ago. When she destroyed her artifact, it would be yet another turning point.

“Mira,” a voice said behind her. Ben stood at the edge of the platform where the walkway connected to it. In his hand was the Chance Generator.

Ben looked even more tired than before. Pale and weak. She wondered if he would even recognize himself. Once he destroyed that artifact, he would be okay, she told herself. He had to be. She needed him to be.

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

Ben stared back at her. “Are you… really sure about this?”

Mira nodded. “Any advantage that thing gives you is offset by what it takes. It’s not worth the price. I’ve lost a lot to it already, and so have you, you just don’t see it yet. I need you to trust me, Ben.”

“I do trust you. You always see things so clearly.” Ben moved toward her wearily. “It’s one reason… why I love you, Mira.”

Mira froze at the words. In all their time together, after all they had been through, he had never said those words to her.

She didn’t know what to say. “Ben…”

He moved closer. His hands gently pulled the necklaces from her shirt. His fingers divided them, one after the other, until they found the one he was looking for. The small pair of brass dice.

“Do you remember the night I gave you this?” he asked her.

Mira nodded.

“Do you remember what I told you when I did?”

“Yes.”

His eyes looked up from the necklace into hers. “I know this is going to seem like a betrayal, and like a contradiction to everything I told you then—but it isn’t. I promise.”

She studied him in confusion. What did he mean by—

Mira flinched as Ben snapped another necklace off her neck. The Gravity Void combination she always wore for emergencies. Before she could react, he took a step back—and threw it onto the platform at her feet.

The glass vial on the combination shattered. There was a flash and a hum—and then Mira gasped as she was yanked up into the air in a blur of ascending light particles, spinning helplessly in a sphere of zero gravity.

“Ben!” she yelled, trying to reach something, but there was nothing she could grab, she just floated helplessly. The Anvil and its shelves were out of reach. She was trapped. “What are you doing? ” she exclaimed, but a part of her already knew.