J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“There are many more than fifty,” a voice said behind her. Gideon stared sightlessly to the south. “There are hundreds. Two different types, small and large.”

Looking around, Holt could see the looks on the rest of the White Helix’s faces. They didn’t need binoculars. They could sense the Assembly moving through the Pattern, and they didn’t like what they felt.

“ Hundreds of walkers, plus air support?” Ravan was aghast. “We can’t hold out against that.”

“Yet we must,” Gideon replied calmly. More lightning flashed, the winds raging. “The Tower wills it.”

“I don’t believe in your stupid Tower, old man!” Ravan shot back and stood up. “I’m taking Avril and I’m getting my men the hell—”

Everything stopped at a blast of distorted trumpet sounds. Five Hunters decloaked about two hundred yards down the street to their right.

No one moved until the plasma bolts started flying, sparking all around them, then everyone darted for cover in different directions, Menagerie scrambling over the vehicles and the Helix leaping into the air.

Only Gideon kept his composure.

He loosed the simple Lancet from his back, and in one smooth, quick motion, fired a spear point. It hummed through the air like an arrow—and punched straight through one of the Hunters in a shower of fire and blue sparks.

The plasma fire from the other walkers cut off. They trumpeted in surprise, watching their compatriot crumple to the ground. Even Assembly armor, it seemed, could not withstand an Antimatter crystal borne of the Strange Lands.

Gideon didn’t hesitate. He touched his index and ring fingers together and dashed toward the remaining tripods in a blur of purple. Holt watched the old man cover the distance and leap up and over the surprised Hunters, the other end of his Lancet striking downward into a second machine. More blue sparks, more flame, and another walker fell.

“That’s—not unimpressive,” Ravan said next to Holt. Everyone, Helix and Menagerie, watched as the walkers finally recovered their senses. Their cannons twisted toward Gideon and spun, priming, unleashing volleys of plasma.

Gideon zigzagged gracefully backward, dodging the sparkling bolts, leaping into the air and landing behind another tripod. There was a hum and he caught the spear point on the end of his Lancet and jabbed outward, puncturing a third walker, felling it in a spray of blue fire.

More plasma bolts shattered the debris and ruined vehicles around him, but Gideon dodged left, ducking and weaving in a blur of purple energy. He spun and fired again. The fourth walker shuddered as the projectile hit home, blowing it to—

Gideon groaned as the last walker rammed into him, sending him crashing violently into the brick wall of a crumpled church and falling to the ground.

He struggled to his feet—then dodged another stream of yellow bolts. As fast as the old man was, the walker had the advantage now. One bolt caught him in the arm. Two more hit his leg. Another sent him crashing to the ground.

The Hunter landed above Gideon, its three-optic eye burning. It raised one of its razor-sharp pointed legs, ready to strike.

Another hum, as Gideon’s spear point exploded straight through the last walker on its way back to his Lancet. The machine shook uncontrollably, collapsed in a shower of fire and didn’t move.

“Gideon!” Avril shouted as the White Helix raced forward. Holt and Ravan did the same.

As they ran, the darkness was wiped away by golden, shimmering fields of energy lifting up and out of the fallen walkers on the ground. In the surrounding darkness, they were blinding to look at.

But they didn’t form as Holt had always seen. Their brightness faded almost immediately, the energy seeming to lack cohesion. Another few seconds, and they dimmed, flickering in and out, merging and vanishing into the air.

It must be this place, Holt thought. Something about the Strange Lands disrupted those shapes, whatever they were, just like the water had done at Midnight City. Before he could think it through, he reached the White Helix ringed around their fallen leader.

Holt stared down at the old man—and instantly wished he hadn’t.

Plasma bolts weren’t kind to human flesh. Gideon was still alive, breathing weakly and staring up at his students. Avril held his head in her arms while the rest watched on, stunned.

“Gideon…” Masyn whispered, staring down in disbelief. It was the first time Holt had ever seen anything approaching fear on their faces. Gideon was larger than life. To them, he could never fall, never die, and yet here it was. If he could be killed… certainly any of them could.

“You must… hold the line…” When Gideon spoke, his voice was raspy and cracked. His blind gaze stared straight up to where the colored lightning flashed. “The Prime… must reach the Tower.”

“How can we do that?” Castor asked nervously. It was a good question, there was an Assembly army coming for them.

“Fight them,” was Gideon’s response.

“Fight?” Ravan asked. “There’s hundreds of walkers out there, you said so yourself!”

“Now… there are five less,” Gideon answered.

Ravan wasn’t impressed. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“You saw them fall. Five of them, defeated… by an old blind man.” Gideon coughed and struggled for air, his eyes drifted to his students around him. “This… is what you were made for. What I made you for. I told you, before we left, you would know who you are, and you are the invaders’ reckoning.”

Dane looked at Avril and she back at him. The other Helix all stared at each other in the same way. Confused and scared and uncertain.

“What is… the first Keystone?” Gideon asked.

“We are what we think we are,” the Helix intoned automatically. In the distance, Holt heard the stomping of mechanical legs, the roar of engines in the air.

“Say it again, ” Gideon commanded.

“We are what we think we are!” the Helix said, this time with strength.

Gideon nodded. “You must… see the truth. You must see yourselves as you are.” His voice was growing weaker; he was fading. “If you have ever believed me, believe me now. After today… your enemies will fear you.”

His foggy eyes came to rest on Avril. She stared down at him with emotion. “Avril. When this is over, honor your obligation. It may seem… a waste, but it has… purpose. If you honor me, you will do this.”

Tears formed in Avril’s eyes. The old man’s hand reached up and gently felt her face.

“I can see you, Avril,” he said, his voice fading. “I can… see you…”

Then he was gone, his body went limp, the life drained away.

The White Helix were frozen in place, staring at Gideon’s body. Avril softly rested his head on the ground, then looked up at Dane. Something passed between them, part fury, part resolution.

Avril stood up, walking purposefully, followed by Dane and the others. Whatever they were thinking, it seemed they were of one mind.

The White Helix fanned out, forming into a long line that stretched twenty-four strong. Each unslung the Lancet from their backs, the glowing crystals humming, as they stared to the south, toward the walking death that was approaching them.

The machines there were clearer now. Two lines, one, the bulk of the army, made up of the smaller, fast tripods. The other… was something else. Something much bigger and still unseen. The smaller walkers darted forward, leaving the bigger ones behind, rushing toward what was left of downtown Bismarck.

“They’re coming, but they’re lined up nice and straight,” Avril yelled. “Fire both volleys.”