J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

It was a meeting place. A crowd had gathered, though “crowd” was an understatement. The sheer numbers of them almost made Holt trip. They stood on the rocky floor where the river raced past, or hung from the walls, each flanked by two points of color from their Lancets—red, green or blue—and the combined light was even brighter than the tents. One or two thousand of them, if Holt had to guess, and it was stunning to look at.

“My God,” Mira said beside him.

“Did you have any idea?” Holt asked.

“No.” She hadn’t guessed the White Helix had such numbers. The realization was sobering. Simply imagining the skill Holt had already seen Avril and her Arc display, and magnifying it to the potential in front of him, it equaled an army of enormous size. Yet here it was in the Strange Lands, alone and isolated. Holt wondered again what the point of it all was.

The Gathering didn’t seem all that aware of their group, they were circled around something, peering down at it or straining to see over each other on the ground. Whatever it was, it was enough to hold their attention.

At least until the sound of Ambassador’s heavy footfalls reached them. The mass of kids, a sea of black and gray and glowing points of color, turned and stared, watching as a five-legged Assembly walker strode through their camp, green laser light streaming from it around a small child. The reaction was similar to that of the advance guards. Lancets yanked from their backs, some leaped into the air in flashes of yellow to claim elevated positions.

Ambassador rumbled. Mira looked at Holt. All it would take was one Lancet to fire, and thousands more would follow.

“Hold!” a voice yelled. Something was odd about the voice. It was old for starters, from a man probably in his seventies. That was unusual enough, but there was something else. It was accented. It sounded… Asian. At the voice, the White Helix hesitated and a stillness swept through their ranks. They were clearly used to obeying it.

“The invader is not to be harmed,” the voice commanded, the source still unseen. “It is not a guest, but it does not come as an enemy. At least not today. It will pass.”

Ahead the crowd parted—and Holt saw what the Helix had been interested in. On the ground, in the center of the clearing, spanning the river, was a simple, flat wooden bridge, barely wide enough to hold one person. Which was good, because there was only one person on it. Sitting cross-legged on a rug, the river flowing past below. Four White Helix guards stood on either side, holding two identical flags. Vertical, and each black with a white symbol on the front: the double helix that Holt had seen over and over again since encountering these strange people.

Next to the bridge was something very out of place: a telephone booth. The kind you would see in the streets of any city ruin, but this one was different. Long metal poles were attached to either side, lengthwise, as if it were meant to be tipped over and carried; and the outside of it was scrawled with shades of black and gray and dozens of double helix symbols, but that wasn’t the strangest thing. The telephone booth’s glass doors were closed, and inside it, visible through them, was a swirling mass of sparkling, gray energy, like the contained swell of a tempest. Holt knew what it must be, and he frowned. An artifact. A major one, certainly. And probably powerful.

In front of that phone booth stood a group of people decidedly out of place. Two dozen strong, each hefting combat rifles, colorful tattoos on their right wrists, all standing protectively around a central figure that stood unintimidated in spite of being vastly outnumbered. Black hair trailed like an obsidian waterfall down her back.

She turned, and when she did, her eyes found Holt. He smiled in spite of himself, relieved. Ravan had made it after all.

But not everyone was as happy. Avril glared at the Menagerie, standing before the bridge that had some sort of ceremonial meaning. Emotions flashed across her face—anger, trepidation, and shame. Holt understood. This was probably a moment Avril had never imagined coming, but here it was. The Menagerie, the followers of her father, had come for her. After all this time.

A figure leaped in a flash of yellow and landed protectively next to Avril. Holt didn’t have to look to see it was Dane.

“Greetings, Avril,” the voice echoed through the air again, and the man on the bridge slowly but gracefully rose to his feet. He wore the same black-and-gray outfit as his followers, carried the same Lancet. Even from this distance, Holt could see he was old, but he held himself with a bearing that was still powerful. There was only one person it could be. “How do you return?” Gideon asked.

It took a moment for Avril to even realize she was being addressed, so intense was her stare on Ravan, but finally she answered. “ Stronger, Master.” Her words were laced with bitterness, and she looked forward with stern emotion.

Holt and Mira jumped as the thousands of figures around them all shouted one word in unison that shook the canyon walls. “Strength!”

Gideon let the sound of his disciples’ voices fade away, and then smiled with a strange mix of sadness and resolution. “Then welcome. You are honored. And… we were just speaking of you.”

ZOEY PEERED OVER HOLT’S SHOULDER through the green laser light. Her head throbbed, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Ambassador kept the pain at bay, but he couldn’t stop it entirely. They were too far inside the Strange Lands now. But she could be strong. She had to.

There were so many emotions flying around in front of her that she could barely make sense of them. From Holt she felt a confused mix of relief and apprehension, as he stared across the way at Ravan. It was funny, she sensed almost the same thing from both her and Mira. It was a strange triangle that had formed between them. None of them seemed able to either completely love or hate any of the others.

“How can you do this? How can you make deals with them? ” Dane shouted, pointing to Ravan and the Menagerie. Heated anger poured from him, and bits of fear, too. He was scared of losing Avril, Zoey sensed, and it only fed his outburst. “You can’t trust them!”

“Can I not?” the old man asked, and from him, Zoey sensed nothing. He was blank to her. Like the Librarian, Gideon must have a strong grip on his emotions and thoughts. His focus was razor sharp. “The world is a reflection of ourselves, Dane. The untrustworthy are, by their nature, untrusting. But here the Menagerie are. They have braved a dangerous land they do not understand. They bear their most valuable possession. Outnumbered. Defenseless. This implies… a great deal of trust.”

“Would it be too much for me to know,” Avril’s voice was hoarse, “what I’m being traded away for like some trophy?” Avril’s emotions bled off her unchecked, a thick mix of anger and pain. She felt betrayed, Zoey could tell. Betrayed by Gideon, someone she trusted. And there was fear, too. Zoey saw flashes, remnants from Avril’s memories. Heat waves rising from some desolate landscape. A massive city built between huge, rusted metal spires that spat giant flames into the air. Wherever this place was, it was one she hated. A place she had run from, and Avril would rather die than go back there.

“If I said you were being ‘traded’ for a grain of salt, would that change anything?” Gideon asked her back. “Would such insult give you reason to dishonor your vows?”

Avril looked down at the admonishment. “No. Master.” The words were difficult to say but she believed them.

Gideon turned to Ravan now, but his gaze seemed to drift slightly in the wrong direction. Zoey couldn’t tell why. “Show her.”