The Severed Tower (47 page)

“Get to those Dumpsters!” Ravan shouted, and her men dashed toward two big rusted metal trash containers at the end of the street. Holt saw what she intended. They’d make nice cover—at least until they got shredded.

Holt helped the Menagerie push the Dumpsters into position between the trailers. Another irony, he and the Menagerie working together.

“Get behind!” Ravan yelled. The onslaught of Hunters rushed forward. The silver walkers stood in between them, but they wouldn’t last long. “Fire in turns. You run out, you get at the back, reload.”

No one said anything, they just leaped over the Dumpsters as plasma bolts sizzled past them.

Holt saw two of the Mantises explode and fall, saw the five-legged ones charging and ramming the tripods back, but it wasn’t enough. The Hunters swarmed past like a tidal wave, their cannons firing—and then they were on them.

The trailers did their job. The walkers had to enter one at a time, and when they did the Menagerie opened fire, dropping each one in turn, creating a pile at the entrance that the walkers had to leap over to get past. But it took a
lot
of shells to hurt the Hunters. The first line ran out of ammo, cycled back, and Holt and Ravan moved up, opened fire, dropping more in bursts of sparks and fire.

The strange, glowing fields of energy rose out of the machines, lighting up the dark and bleeding into the air, unable to form.

Holt’s rifle clicked empty, and he grabbed Max and dashed back, started reloading with Ravan.

The trailers on either side shook as two Hunters landed on top. Holt fired up at them—and then shoved Ravan to the ground as one returned fire. It got one of her men instead.

They both stared up at the machines, their targeting system tracking them, guns about to fire …

… 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.

The Royal trumpeted with disdain—and then leaped into the air and angled its razor-pointed legs toward Ambassador’s fuselage. There was a violent shudder. Sparks. Its sensors died, its vision went dark, and without its connection to the Whole, it was utterly, ultimately alone.

*   *   *

HOLT AND MAX RAN
after Ravan, and what was left of the Menagerie, toward the nearest building, trying desperately to avoid the guided artillery that was falling everywhere.

“You really think a building’s the best place to be?” he shouted after them.

“What do you wanna do?” Ravan yelled back as she ran. “Stay out here in the rain?”

To his right, he saw the last silver Mantises explode and crumble. The huge Spider was ahead of them, blasting everything, but the gunships were focused on it now, concentrating their fire, and its armor sparked and buckled.

And everywhere the Hunters poured into the city. It was the worst battle Holt had ever been in, and it was only getting worse. He just hoped he could buy Mira enough—

A Hunter landed just to the left of Holt and Max, plasma cannons screaming. The bolts caught and spun him to the ground in burning pain. The pirates kept running, unaware.

Holt fired the last three shells from his Ithaca, but it wasn’t enough. The walker advanced on him, its plasma cannon priming …

… and then something leaped onto it, snarling, jaws sinking into the hoses jutting from its actuators. It was Max. He was defending his master. Holt reached for his Glock, ripped it free, aimed …

“Max, let go!”

It was too late. The machine whirled and twisted, shook the dog off and sent it crashing to the ground. Holt, eyes wide, desperately fired every round he had, trying to distract the thing from Max if nothing else, but the bullets just sparked off the walker’s armor uselessly.

Max yelped horribly as the tripod impaled him with one razor-sharp leg.

Holt screamed in anguish, frantically started to rise and—

An artillery explosion rocked the ground, sending him flying away … and the world morphed into an unreal, slow-motion haze.

He didn’t hear anything anymore, could barely see through the blood. There were blurs of movement that could have been walkers or explosions or White Helix. He didn’t know.

The world shifted. He thought he heard someone yelling, and then he was being dragged, pulled into a strange white place with broken tables and counters that used to be shiny. An old ice-cream parlor, Holt’s mind barely put together.

His vision focused a little. His body was searing pain. He wondered absently if he was dying.

He saw Menagerie firing frantically out the windows of the old shop, saw them take hits and fall. Ravan appeared, hands on his face, yelling something he couldn’t make out. She pulled him close and kissed him. He wished he could feel her, he really wished he—

A stream of plasma bolts threw Ravan violently away. Holt weakly turned, saw her lying still, blackened and bent. Still he felt nothing but pain, and even that was fading, mercifully.

Past the door of the shop, in the streets, there was chaos, death, and destruction, but it all seemed like a dream. Just vague, blurry images. Hunters in the streets like ants. White Helix leaping and striking in colorful movements, then falling to the ground. The giant Spider walker overwhelmed, burning, collapsing downward, right toward him, in a strange, slow-motion fall he wasn’t sure would ever reach him.

“Mira…” Holt breathed, though he couldn’t hear his voice. He saw her one last time—around a campfire in some forgotten forest, dancing with him. Smiling.

The Spider crashed. The world went white. The pain ended.

*   *   *

AVRIL CLUNG ONTO THE
water tower at the top of the building, overlooking the destruction below. Dane was barely conscious, and she held him in place so he wouldn’t slip away.

They were the last left. She had watched the rest of her Arc fall one at a time, their deaths burned into her memory. It hurt more than plasma burns ever could.

Below her the Hunters advanced into the city. She saw the Spider fall in flames and crash. She watched the five-legged walker, the one who had come with the Prime, valiantly charge into the swarm. It took on eight Hunters by itself before they overwhelmed it.

It was all very heroic, and in the end all very futile—but that’s how it was always going to be. She only hoped the Freebooter had gotten the Prime to the Tower. In the distance she saw it, looming over the city, and Avril stared at it with hatred. She would tear the thing down if she could.