J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“If your home is always moving, how do you ever find it?” Zoey asked from Holt’s back. Avril looked back at the little girl with a strange look. She almost seemed nervous.

“Everything in the Strange Lands… echoes, ” Avril said. “That’s the best word I’ve got; but when you’re in tune with the vibrations, with the way it hums, those echoes become easier to feel. And they all feel unique. The numbers of White Helix at Sanctum make a very powerful echo.”

“How do you sense the land?” Mira walked next to Holt, her hand holding Zoey against him, worried the little girl’s grip might weaken. “I don’t get it.”

“Sure you do. You already sense it,” Avril replied. “You call it the Charge.”

Holt rubbed his arms, flattening the hairs back down where they had lifted up. Avril was right, the Charge had become a very noticeable thing since Polestar, like constant static electricity all over him. He didn’t much care for it.

“That’s the hum,” Avril continued. “It’s all around us. You’ve just never looked without your eyes. Your eyes… confuse things. Give you too much information. You have to get rid of them in order to truly sense the Pattern.”

If that’s what the Helix believed, then it explained their black goggles. They were clearly too dark to see through.

“You don’t… run into things?” Zoey asked curiously.

Avril smiled. “No. We don’t run into anything. The Charge tells you more than your eyes ever could.”

Something flared into the sky ahead of them. A streaking line of red light, followed by two more bursts of color, flashing upward after it. Both blue.

Holt recognized what they must be instantly: the spear points at the end of a Lancet, fired by lookouts. Avril yelled for Castor at the front to stop, and the entire line halted. She looked slightly perplexed.

Ahead, the grassy hills of rock yielded to reddish bluffs and ridges. A river cut straight through one of the rocky mesas, into a canyon of high walls. It was from the top of either end of the canyon entrance that the shots had gone up. Looking now, Holt couldn’t see anyone standing there. Not that that was surprising. He studied the flatlands around him warily, wondering just how many hidden eyes were out there.

“What is it?” Mira asked.

“Sanctum advance guard. They know we have the Assembly with us. They’re alarmed, and I don’t blame them.” The statement implied a communication in those fired crystals, probably tied to the colors they shot up, Holt guessed.

Avril pulled her Lancet from her back and called for Castor again. When he looked back, she held up two fingers. He nodded, then unstrapped his own weapon. She fired the green end of her Lancet into the air with the same jarring, harmonic ping. The crystal projectile streaked upward like a missile—and was quickly followed by both of Castor’s spear points, both glowing in red light.

“You’re telling them everything’s okay?” Mira asked.

“I’m telling them we have enemies with us, entering Sanctum peacefully,” Avril replied. Whether she meant Ambassador or Mira and himself, Holt wasn’t sure.

“How do they know you’re not the walker’s prisoner, or that it’s using you?”

“We have a different signal for that.”

Of course they did, Holt thought.

Everyone waited, seconds seemed like minutes, and then there was another volley from the distance. Three new flickering streams of color shot into the air. All of them were green. The sight seemed to relax Avril, and she recalled her spear point, whizzing through the air and connecting with the end of her Lancet in a pulse. Castor did the same.

“Keep Ambassador slow and calm, if you can,” Holt whispered to Zoey as they started marching again. “No sudden movements. Okay?”

Zoey nodded weakly. “Okay. I’ll try.” Holt and Mira shared a nervous look.

They entered the canyon, and the walls rose up high, stretching a hundred feet or more on either side. In the dark, the colorful walls of painted rock were muted but still visible.

The group wound their way through the rocky gorge, on either side of its small river, for almost a mile without any sign that indicated there were others here. There weren’t even tracks on the ground, Holt noted. The White Helix were very good at hiding their presence.

Around the next bend he finally saw what he’d been waiting for. Signs of life—and of strategic planning. The ground was covered in boulders, clearly broken loose from the walls on either side of them. It was a smart decision. The boulders and the river made it so any group, even the Assembly, would have to divide and stagger their approach to avoid the impediments, making them easier targets. Six White Helix guards stood behind the field of rubble, waiting for them.

They zigzagged through the debris field until they finally reached the guards, Lancets drawn, held at the ready, staring warily at Ambassador. The machine rumbled uncertainly.

“Where is everyone?” Avril asked. Clearly, she expected more of a welcoming party. But the guards just kept staring at the big silver walker. “Roderick,” Avril said with more emphasis, and one of the guards, the one in front of the others, looked at her.

When he did his look was ominous. “Gideon’s called a Gathering, Avril. You… should be there. Masyn already went ahead.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Just… come with us.” Roderick forced himself to look away from the silver walker and start moving. Everyone followed, and Holt could tell Avril was worried. Something was wrong.

They moved through the canyon, following the river around another bend—and Holt’s eyes widened at what was there. So did Mira’s. Even Zoey, clinging to his back weakly, perked up for a moment. “Wow,” she whispered.

Ahead, the canyon rolled northward in a near-straight line, and resting along its length was Sanctum. It was nothing like Holt expected. Tents of all sizes and colors, made of a mashup of fabric and materials—leather, bright silks, cotton, parachutes, flags, clothing, some of them even used wood or metal to create walls—stretched into the distance. They weren’t just on the canyon floor, the walls of the gorge were lined with smaller, brightly colored tents, somehow attached up and down the rocky embankments, hundreds of them, stretching out of sight. There were no ladders or bridges between the tents, and Holt figured they weren’t needed. The White Helix could probably leap from the canyon floor all the way to the top if they wanted.

In the dark, the glowing tents and structures made a field of glimmering amber all along the canyon walls, and reflecting in the river as it flowed past, making it a wavering strip of light that drifted southward. It was beautiful, Holt thought, but it looked more like a proper city than a caravan. How did they move all this?

Holt felt Mira’s hand touch his—but when he reached to take it, it disappeared, as if she reached out instinctively at the amazing sight, and then thought better of it. Holt sighed, but he didn’t look at her. It was what it was.

The group kept walking, Ambassador’s footfalls echoing in the canyon, and as they moved, Holt noticed something else. The colored, glowing tents were all empty. There was no one around but the six guards who had been on sentry duty. He understood why Avril had been confused now. With this many tents, the place should be flooded with people.

The answer became apparent after another hundred feet of winding through the glowing tent city, where the canyon widened into a rounded, egglike shape. There were no tents there, but Holt could see that they continued on the other side of the clearing. It had been purposefully kept open, and it was obvious why.