Firefight

by Brandon Sanderson

  ALSO BY BRANDON SANDERSON

  THE RECKONERS

  STEELHEART

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2015 by Dragonsteel Entertainment, LLC

  Jacket art copyright © 2015 by Craig Shields

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Sanderson, Brandon.

  Firefight / Brandon Sanderson.

  pages cm

  Sequel to: Steelheart.

  Summary: “David and the Reckoners continue their fight against the Epics, humans with superhuman powers, except they may have met their match in Regalia, a High Epic who resides in Babylon Restored, the city formerly known as the borough of Manhattan”— Provided by publisher.

  ISBN 978-0-385-74358-7 (hardback) — ISBN 978-0-375-99122-6 (glb) — ISBN 978-0-449-81840-4 (el) — ISBN 978-0-385-39010-1 (intl. tr. pbk.)

  [1. Supervillains—Fiction. 2. Guerrilla warfare—Fiction. 3. Science fiction.]

  I. Title.

  PZ7.S19797Fi 2015

  [Fic]—dc23

  2014028081

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  For Nathan Goodrich,

  A dear friend who was patient enough

  To read my books when they were bad.

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Part Two

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Part Three

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Part Four

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  I watched Calamity rise.

  I was six years old then, as I stood in the night on the balcony of our apartment. I can still remember how the old air conditioner rattled in the window next to me, covering the sound of Father’s crying. The overworked machine hung out over a plummet of many stories, dripping water like perspiration from the forehead of a suicidal jumper. The machine was broken; it blew air but didn’t make anything cold. My mother had frequently turned it off.

  After her passing, my father left it on; he said that he felt cooler with it running.

  I lowered my popsicle and squinted at that strange red light, which rose like a new star above the horizon. Only no star had ever been that bright or that red. Crimson. It looked like a bullet wound in the dome of heaven itself.

  On that night, Calamity had blanketed the entire city in a strange warm glow. I stood there—popsicle melting, sticky liquid dripping down around my fingers—as I watched the entire ascent.

  Then the screaming had started.

  PART ONE

  1

  “DAVID?” The voice came from my earpiece.

  I shook out of my reverie. I’d been staring at Calamity again, but nearly thirteen years had passed since Calamity’s rise. I wasn’t a kid at home with my father any longer; I wasn’t even an orphan working the munitions factory in the understreets.

  I was a Reckoner.

  “Here,” I answered, shouldering my rifle and crossing the rooftop. It was night, and I swore I could see a red cast to everything from Calamity’s light, though it had never again appeared as bright as it had that first evening.

  Downtown Newcago spread out before me, its surfaces reflecting starlight. Everything was steel here. Like a cyborg from the future with the skin ripped off. Only, you know, not murderous. Or, well, alive at all.

  Man, I thought. I really do suck at metaphors.

  Steelheart was dead now, and we had reclaimed Newcago’s upper streets—including many amenities the elite had once reserved for themselves. I could take a shower every day in my own bathroom. I almost didn’t know what to do with such luxury. Other than, you know, not stink.

  Newcago, at long last, was free.

  It was my job to make sure it stayed that way.

  “I don’t see anything,” I whispered, kneeling beside the edge of the rooftop. I wore an earpiece that connected wirelessly to my mobile. A small camera on the earpiece allowed Tia to watch what I was seeing, and the earpiece was sensitive enough to pick up what I said, even when I spoke very softly.

  “Keep watching,” Tia said over the line. “Cody reports that Prof and the mark went your direction.”

  “It’s quiet here,” I whispered. “Are you sure—”

  The rooftop exploded just beside me. I yelped, rolling backward as the entire building shook, the blast spraying bits of broken metal across me. Calamity! Those shots packed a punch.

  “Sparks!” Cody yelled over the line. “She got around me, lad. Coming up on your north side—”

  His voice was drowned out as another glowing energy pulse shot up from the ground below and ripped the side off the rooftop near where I hid.

  “Run!” Tia yelled.

  Like I needed to be told. I got moving. To my right, a figure materialized out of light. Dressed in a black jumpsuit and sneakers, Sourcefield wore a full mask—like a ninja might wear—and a long black cape. Some Epics bought into the whole “inhuman powers” thing more than others. Honestly, she looked ridiculous—even if she did glow faintly blue and crackle with energy spreading across her body.

  If she touched something, she could transform into energy and travel through it. It wasn’t true teleportation, but close enough—and the more conductive the substance, the farther she could travel, so a city made of steel was kind of like paradise for her. It was surprising it had taken her so long to get here.

  As if teleportation weren’t enough, her electrical abilities also made her impervious to most weapons. The light shows she gave off were famous; I’d never seen her in
person before, but I’d always wanted to see her work.

  Just not from so close up.

  “Scramble the plan!” Tia ordered. “Prof? Jon! Report in! Abraham?”

  I listened with only half an ear as a globe of crackling electricity whizzed by me. I skidded to a stop and dashed the other way as a second globe passed right through where I’d been standing. That one hit the rooftop, causing another explosion and making me stumble. Shards of metal pelted my back as I scrambled to the side of the building.

  Then I leaped off.

  I didn’t fall far before hitting the balcony of a penthouse apartment. Heart pounding, I darted inside. A plastic cooler waited on the other side by the door. I threw open the lid and fished around, trying to remain calm.

  Sourcefield had come to Newcago earlier in the week. She’d started killing immediately—random people, no perceivable purpose behind it. Just like Steelheart had done in his early days. Then she’d started calling out for the citizens to turn in the Reckoners, so she could bring us to justice.

  A twisted brand of Epic justice. They killed whomever they wanted, but to strike back was an offense so great they could barely conceive it. Well, she’d see soon enough. So far, our plan to bring her down wasn’t going terribly well, but we were the Reckoners. We prepared for the unexpected.

  From the cooler, I pulled out a water balloon.

  This, I thought, had better work.

  Tia and I had debated for days on Sourcefield’s weakness. Every Epic had at least one, and often they were random. You had to research an Epic’s history, the things they avoided, to try to figure out what substance or situation might negate their powers.

  This balloon contained our best guess as to Sourcefield’s weakness. I turned, hefting the balloon in one hand, rifle in the other, watching the doorway and waiting for her to come after me.

  “David?” Tia asked over the earpiece.

  “Yeah?” I whispered, anxious, balloon ready to throw.

  “Why are you watching the balcony?”

  Why was I …

  Oh, right. Sourcefield could travel through walls.

  Feeling like an idiot, I jumped backward just as Sourcefield came down through the ceiling, electricity buzzing all around her. She hit the floor on one knee, hand out, a ball of electricity growing there, casting frantic shadows across the room.

  Feeling nothing but a spike of adrenaline, I hurled the balloon. It hit Sourcefield right in the chest, and her energy blast fizzled into nothing. Red liquid from the balloon splashed on the walls and floor around her. Too thin to be blood, it was an old powdered fruit drink you mixed with water and sugar. I remembered it from childhood.

  And it was her weakness.

  Heart thumping, I unslung my rifle. Sourcefield stared at her dripping torso as if in shock, though the black mask she wore kept me from seeing her expression. Lines of electricity still worked across her body like tiny glowing worms.

  I leveled the rifle and pulled the trigger. The crack of gunfire indoors all but deafened me, but I delivered a bullet directly toward Sourcefield’s face.

  That bullet exploded as it passed through her energy field. Even soaked with the Kool-Aid, her protections worked.

  She looked at me, her electricity flaring to life—growing more violent, more dangerous, lighting the room like a calzone stuffed with dynamite.

  Uh-oh …

  2

  I scrambled into the hall as the doorway exploded behind me. The blast threw me face-first into the wall, and I heard a crunch.

  On one hand, I was relieved. The crunching sound meant that Prof was still alive—his Epic abilities granted me a protective field. On the other hand, an evil, angry killing machine was chasing me.

  I pushed myself back from the wall and dashed down the metal hallway, which was lit by the mobile I wore strapped to my arm. Zip line, I thought, frantic. Which way? Right, I think.

  “I found Prof,” Abraham’s voice said in my ear. “He’s encased in some kind of energy bubble. He looks frustrated.”

  “Throw Kool-Aid on it,” I said, panting, dodging down a side hall as electric blasts ripped apart the hallway behind me. Sparks. She was furious.

  “I’m aborting the mission,” Tia said. “Cody, swing down and pick up David.”

  “Roger,” Cody said. A faint thumping sounded over his communication line—the sound of copter rotors.

  “Tia, no!” I said, entering a room. I threw my rifle over my shoulder and grabbed a backpack full of water balloons.

  “The plan is falling apart,” Tia said. “Prof is supposed to be point, David, not you. Besides, you just proved that the balloons don’t work.”

  I pulled out a balloon and turned, then waited a heartbeat until electricity formed on one of the walls, announcing Sourcefield. She appeared a second later, and I hurled my balloon at her. She cursed and jumped to the side, and red splashed along the wall.

  I turned and ran, shoving my way through a door into a bedroom, making for the balcony. “She’s afraid of the Kool-Aid, Tia,” I said. “My first balloon negated an energy blast. We have the weakness right.”

  “She still stopped your bullet.”

  True. I jumped out onto the balcony, looking up for the zip line.

  It wasn’t there.

  Tia cursed in my ear. “That’s what you were running for? The zip line’s two apartments over, you slontze.”

  Sparks. In my defense, hallways and rooms all look very similar when everything’s made of steel.

  The thumping copter was near now; Cody had almost arrived. Gritting my teeth, I leaped up onto the rail, then threw myself toward the next balcony over. I caught it by its railing, my rifle swinging over one shoulder, backpack on the other, and hauled myself up.

  “David …,” Tia said.

  “Primary trap point is still functioning?” I asked, climbing over a few lawn chairs that had been frozen in steel. I reached the other side of the balcony and jumped up onto the railing. “I’ll take your silence as a yes,” I said, and leaped across.

  I hit hard, slamming into the steel railing of the next balcony over. I grabbed one of the bars and looked down—I was dangling twelve stories in the air. I shoved down my anxiety and, with effort, hauled myself up.

  Behind me, Sourcefield peeked out onto the balcony I’d left. I had her scared. Which was good, but also bad. I needed her to be reckless for the next part of our plan. That meant provoking her, unfortunately.

  I swung up onto the balcony, fished out a Kool-Aid balloon, and lobbed it in her direction. Then, without looking to see if the balloon hit, I jumped onto the railing and grabbed the zip line handle, then kicked off.

  The balcony exploded.

  Fortunately, the zip line was affixed to the roof, not the balcony itself, and the cable remained firm. Bits of molten metal zipped through the dark air around me as I dropped along the line, picking up speed. Turns out those things are a lot faster than they look. Skyscrapers passed me on either side in a blur. I felt like I was really falling.

  I managed a shout—half panicked, half ecstatic—before everything lurched around me and I crashed into the ground, rolling on the street.

  “Whoa,” I said, pushing myself up off the ground. The city spun like a lopsided top. My shoulder hurt, and although I’d heard a crunch as I hit, it hadn’t been loud. The protective field that Prof had granted me was running out. They could only take so much punishment before he had to renew them.

  “David?” Tia said. “Sparks. Sourcefield cut the zip line with one of her shots. That’s why you fell at the end.”

  “Balloon worked,” a new voice said over the line. Prof. He had a strong voice, rough but solid. “I’m out. Couldn’t report earlier; the energy bubble interfered with the signal.”

  “Jon,” Tia said to him, “you weren’t supposed to fight her.”

  “It happened,” Prof snapped. “David, you alive?”

  “Kind of,” I said, stumbling to my feet and picking up the backp
ack, which had slipped off as I rolled. Red juice drink streamed from the bottom. “Not sure about my balloons, though. Looks like there might be a few casualties.”

  Prof grunted. “Can you do this, David?”

  “Yes,” I said firmly.

  “Then run for the primary trap point.”

  “Jon,” Tia said. “If you’re out—”

  “Sourcefield ignored me,” Prof said. “It’s just like before, with Mitosis. They don’t want to fight me; they want you. We have to bring her down before she gets to the team. You remember the path, David?”

  “Of course,” I said, searching for my rifle.

  It lay broken nearby, cracked in half in the middle of the forestock. Sparks. Looked like I’d messed up the trigger guard too. I wouldn’t be firing that anytime soon. I checked my thigh holster and the handgun there. It seemed good. Well, as good as a handgun can be. I hate the things.

  “Flashes in the windows of that apartment complex, moving down,” Cody said from the copter. “She’s teleporting along the outer wall, heading toward the ground. Chasing you, David.”

  “I don’t like this,” Tia noted. “I think we should abort.”

  “David thinks he can do this,” Prof said. “And I trust him.”

  Despite the danger of the moment, I smiled. I hadn’t realized until joining the Reckoners just how lonely my life had been. Now, to hear words like those …

  Well, it felt good. Really good.

  “I’m bait,” I said over the line, positioning myself to wait for Sourcefield and searching in my backpack for unbroken balloons. I had two left. “Tia, get our troops into position.”

  “Roger,” she said reluctantly.

  I moved down the street. Lanterns hung from the old, useless street lamps nearby, giving me light. By it, I caught sight of some faces peeking through windows. The windows had no glass, just old-fashioned wooden shutters we’d cut and placed there.

  In assassinating Steelheart, the Reckoners had basically declared all-out war on the Epics. Some people had fled Newcago, fearing retribution—but most people had stayed here, and many others had come. During the months since Steelheart’s fall, we’d almost doubled the population of Newcago.