J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

…and then one exploded in a burst of green sparks. So did the other.

When the smoke cleared, Dane crouched where the walkers had been. The tall Helix smiled at Holt, then leaped away in a flash of yellow light. Holt frowned. Great. Now he owed his life to the cocky bastard.

All around them, in the air, Holt saw the White Helix flipping and darting, their spear points firing like missiles into the swarm of Hunters, trying to turn the tide; but there were just too many. The green-and-orange swarm continued to advance.

The Menagerie at the front fell as bolts shredded them.

“Pull back!” Ravan shouted. “Under the trucks!”

She darted underneath one and Holt scampered after her. Max just watched, staring around nervously at all the chaos.

“Max! Move! ” he shouted, and the dog tore loose and dashed after him.

They all crawled out, the sounds of battle everywhere. Ravan looked at him. “I don’t know about you, but—”

The air above them exploded. Streaks of light rained down like shotgun blasts. The ground flashed in fire as the projectiles hit—except where a green-and-orange walker happened to be.

“Guided artillery,” Ravan said wearily.

“Stop admiring it and go!” Holt ran in the only direction open to them—away from the horde of green and orange. Explosions followed after them, a hell of flame and heat and shrapnel.

* * *

THE STREETS WERE A battleground. Droves of Hunters poured in from the south. The silvers returned fire, holding their ground, but artillery was raining down on everything that wasn’t green and orange. Right then, though, Avril had other things to worry about.

She twirled her Lancet and fired both projectiles straight downward, backflipping between two ruined city buses. Both shots were hits, punching through Hunters and incinerating them.

She landed and moved to recall her crystals, but two more leaped up after her, their cannons spinning.

Avril reacted instantly, using the empty shaft of her Lancet to vault out of the way of lines of sizzling plasma bolts, landing on the ground in a crouch.

More Hunters charged after her, and she realized she was defenseless. She tensed, ready for—

One of the tripods shuddered as the glowing blue end of a Lancet punctured it in a stream of fire. Masyn flipped up and over, plasma fire following her, and it gave Avril the time she needed. She spun and caught both of her spear points from the air, then ducked down and let her weapon flare outward in an arc, slicing through the legs of another walker, crashing it to the ground.

Masyn landed next to her and the two moved back-to-back.

“They’re a lot dumber than I expected,” Masyn said.

“With numbers like this, they don’t need strategy,” Avril replied. “Spearflow, movement Seventeen—then adapt.”

“Yes, Doyen,” Masyn said. She was winded, but there was still a note of excitement in her voice.

Both girls broke in opposite directions, performing the movements the Spearflow had prepared them for, touching all three glowing crystals on their fingers in a flash of bright white light. Their Lancets struck forward blindingly fast, then flipped into reverse thrusts with the opposite ends. Each attack found a different target, and four walkers fell in flames.

Then they were leaping away and dodging through a sky full of plasma. The girls landed a block apart, Masyn on top of an old gas station, Avril on a taxicab that had been warped together with a limousine.

Masyn smiled—and then saw something. To the south, Castor flipped and dodged through volleys of plasma bolts. Avril could see his weapon was empty. He needed to land to recall his crystals, but that was harder than it—

A bolt sparked and sent him crashing to the ground. He tried to rise—and three more cut him down where he stood.

Masyn howled in anger and leaped toward the fallen boy.

“Masyn!” Avril shouted, but it did no good. She charged forward in a blur of purple and waded into the Hunters around Castor, her Lancet cutting them down one at a time—but there were too many, and they were closing in.

Avril moved to leap for her—then saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Dane jumped between two buildings, chased by three gunships, and then wheeled as a blast of artillery exploded on the rooftop next to him. He fell and vanished, the gunships firing after him.

A chill ran through her. It was bound to happen. To both of them, but the sight of it, knowing he was hurt, maybe dead—was beyond anything she expected.

Behind her, Masyn fired a spear at two Hunters lined up one behind the other, blowing through both. Avril could only reach one in time, and even then, in the end, it would still be too late.

“Go, Doyen!” Masyn shouted, striking and jumping, surrounded by Hunters.

Avril made her choice. She touched her index and middle rings together and leaped straight into the air. Behind her, she heard the plasma cannons around Masyn, but she didn’t need to look back to know the girl had fallen. She could sense it in the Pattern, could feel her echo weaken and vanish.

Avril landed on the roof, saw Dane on top of the building’s water tower. He’d dispatched two gunships, but his Lancet was empty. The third opened fire, peppering the tower with plasma bolts and shredding Dane, knocking him down.

Avril felt her insides turn to ice.

She flipped forward. The gunship spun where it hovered, targeting systems realigning—but it wasn’t fast enough.

Avril’s Lancet punctured it once, then twice, as she flew up and over, and it exploded and crashed in a fireball.

She landed on the tower, grabbing Dane before he slid off. He was bloodied, torn, and barely conscious.

All around her the chaos continued. The green-and-oranges poured into the city, plasma seared through the air and fire streaked downward from the sky. There was no one left. It was all but over now. Avril looked down at Dane… and managed to smile. They would face the end together at least.

* * *

THE ONE THE SCION named Ambassador slammed into two more Mas’Erinhah and sent them flying and crashing in crumpled heaps to the ground. Plasma bolts sparked against its shield, and it could tell it was about to fail. The colors of its kin, the Mas’Asrana, had all faded. The Mas’Shinra defectors were all gone now, too, except for the largest, and even it would fall soon.

Ambassador spun its blocky frame—and saw the object of its obsession.

The one the Scion named the Royal stood at the end of the street, four guardians on either side of it. Ambassador knew these would be its end. They would fade its colors.

But… this was what had been chosen.

The walker rumbled and charged powerfully forward. Streams of plasma flared from the Royal’s guardians, slamming into Ambassador’s shield. The barrier flickered once, twice, then died.

The ordnance seared into Ambassador’s armor as he charged, ripping into the machine. It sensed its hydraulics begin to flame, a short in a servo hub, but it didn’t matter now.

The Hunters tried to bound out of the way at the last moment. Three of them didn’t make it, and Ambassador drove them hard through a building wall. It whirled around as more plasma bolts found it. So did a stream of missiles, slamming into the walker in violent explosions that sent it stumbling back.

It tried to jump forward again, but two of its legs were severed, it could only pathetically shamble.

More plasma bolts cut into it, bursting through its armor, tearing into its electronics and mechanics. The machine took two more steps… then crashed to the ground, fire shooting from its exhausts.

Still, the walker tried to pull itself forward. It would not let the Mas’Erinhah see it give in. It would push toward them until the Void claimed it.