J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“Mira.” Gideon approached them, ignoring the explosions. “It is time.”

Holt got up and studied the little girl underneath him. “What about Zoey? She’s not even conscious!”

“Mira can carry her. The Prime does not need to be awake to enter the Tower.”

Mira shivered in fear. Gideon was right, the time had come, and she wasn’t even close to ready. Holt seemed to sense it.

“I’ll go with her,” Holt offered.

Gideon shook his head. “Mira’s Offering is only enough to protect two people.”

“But I don’t have the plutonium!” Mira cried. “And… I’m not…”

“Trust in the Tower, girl. It will provide. And remember the dragon. Remember the mirror.” Gideon held her gaze meaningfully another moment, then turned and ran, leaped into the air in a flash of yellow and disappeared after his students.

“Holt!” Ravan shouted. Yellow bolts sizzled through the air.

Mira stared at Holt desperately. He studied her back. “I can’t do this,” she told him pitifully.

“Mira—”

“I can’t! Everything is depending on me, and I’m not good enough. I’m not good enough to—”

Mira cut off as Holt’s hands circled her face and drew her to him. He kissed her deeply, the trepidation and fear and explosions forgotten for one merciful moment. Her heart raced. When he pulled away, she stared into his eyes.

“I know what happened to you here, but it doesn’t matter,” Holt said. “You’re not that little girl anymore. I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You’re the most amazing person in my life, and I try to live up to your example every day.”

As he spoke, new sensations and feelings filled her, fighting with her doubts and fears. In spite of the chill of the wind and the danger, she felt warm.

“You’ve always had it in you, you just never looked for it because you didn’t believe it was there,” he continued, forcing her to look back into his eyes when she tried to look away. “I’ve never believed in much, but I believe in you, Mira, and if you have any faith or trust left in me, if I haven’t completely destroyed it all and burned it away, then trust me now. I believe in you. You can do this, and I know you will. I know it… because I know you. ”

Mira was stunned, overcome. Words wouldn’t form. “Holt…”

“Take Zoey, get to the Tower.” He held her look and said the next part with as much emphasis as he could. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Then he was gone, running toward Ravan, grabbing his things and hefting his rifle, both of them dodging out of the way of more plasma fire and blooming fireballs.

Mira stared after him a second more, her heart thundering. Then she did what she had to do. She reached down and grabbed Zoey, lifted her up, and ran as fast as she could toward the black, hulking shape that hung suspended in the air to the north. The sounds of explosions chased after her.

HOLT GRABBED HIS PACK AND GUNS off the ground at a full sprint and ran with Ravan, slipping his equipment on as he did. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max bolting after him.

“You sure about this?” he asked the dog wryly. Max made no answer. “Yeah, me neither.”

Another explosion blossomed to life about twenty yards to his right, and Holt slammed down behind a crumpled delivery truck next to Ravan.

She looked at him. “You sure can show a girl a good time.”

More explosions thundered and shook the truck. Engines roared above them as the gunships struggled in the raging winds. The Hunters had brought air power. A lot of it. Looking closer, Holt could see they weren’t Raptors, they were smaller, shaped like a half circle, with the curved part at their rear, and the flat edge at the front. He could make out their engines and cannons.

Holt and Ravan peered over the hood and watched the gunships fire in a chaotic stream of directions, shooting everywhere at once, and one look let Holt see why. Two dozen White Helix flipped and darted between the vehicles on the street or the rooftops of buildings. The blasting wind drowned out most of the sound, but Holt had a feeling if it didn’t, he would hear them shouting with excitement.

“Those guys really are crazy,” Ravan observed, though there was a note of respect in her voice.

“Yeah, but they’re still human. They’ll run out of gas eventually, and when they do they’ll start making mistakes.”

Gunfire rang out, and Holt saw sparks explode from some of the ships. Menagerie muzzle flashes lit up the intersections on either side of the two buildings. From the top floors, glass exploded outward as more gunfire strobed. It was a valiant effort, but Holt knew it was probably useless.

“Give them something else to shoot at, anyway,” Ravan said.

Max howled as a gunship roared above them, struggling to right itself in all the turbulence. Before it could, a green flash of lightning arced into it in a shower of emerald sparks.

The gunship fell straight downward in flames—right toward their truck.

“Well, of course,” Ravan said, yanking Holt up. Max darted out in front of them as they ran, and the gunship crashed in a fireball where they just were.

They reached a group of Menagerie behind an old street trolley, firing up at the gunships. Holt ducked down next to them and pulled Max close. More plasma screamed through the air, and the side of a building nearby exploded outward.

“Cruz!” Ravan shouted at one of her men, his gun blazing automatic fire. He stopped and looked at her. “Since you’re not hitting anything, at least quit wasting bullets and switch to semiauto.”

“Skipper, how long we supposed to hunker down like this?” another pirate asked.

“What, you bored? Maybe you oughta go run around with the tribesmen out there.”

The Menagerie laughed—and then ducked as a blast of debris rained down on their heads.

In spite of the jokes, everyone knew it was serious. They were surrounded by dozens of Assembly gunships, and if that weren’t bad enough, they were now lost in the deepest part of the Strange Lands with no way home.

“They’re pulling back!” someone shouted, and Holt and Ravan peered out past the trolley. Sure enough, the sounds of engines whined as the gunships started to pull away from the buildings, struggling to stay aloft in the winds—and then each one flickered and vanished, cloaking shields covering them, just like the walkers.

Cheers went up from everywhere, but Holt didn’t feel as jubilant. If they pulled back, they’d done it for a reason. The look on Ravan’s face showed she agreed.

Everyone jumped as the White Helix landed near them, one after the other, up and down the street in flashes of cyan, and, for all their strength, they were exhausted. Holt saw Masyn almost lose her balance before Castor caught her.

Avril leaned against the twisted remains of a taxi, breathing hard, and she and Dane shared apprehensive looks. They were tired, Holt thought, unsettled. But they weren’t running.

“Doyen!” one of Avril’s Arc shouted in alarm.

In the distance, maybe two miles away, illuminated by flashes of colored lightning, shapes moved. A lot of them, and they were big.

Holt ripped the binoculars from his pack and peered through them. Ravan did the same. The optics magnified the view, but it was still hard to make out detail. It was dark as night here, and the powerful winds stirred up a lot of dust. What he could see was only revealed in intermittent flashes of red and blue, but it was enough.

Holt watched each shape shamble forward in the same fluid, mechanical way, stomping toward the city with power. “Walkers,” Holt groaned.

“I’m seeing two lines of them, one behind the other,” Ravan said. “Probably fifty, I’d guess, and that’s just the ones I can see.”