Firefight

by Brandon Sanderson

  “His primary ability—his heat manipulation—is exodynamic,” I said.

  “Great,” Prof said. “Very helpful.”

  “I thought you were a genius,” I said.

  “I taught fifth-grade science,” Prof reminded me. “And it’s not like we taught Epic power theory back then.”

  “Obliteration,” Tia said in a calm voice, “needs to draw heat out of objects to use for destroying things. Sunlight touching his skin works too—not as efficiently, but since it’s persistent, it’s an easy source for him.”

  “Before he destroyed Houston and each of the other cities he’s annihilated, he sat in the sunlight for seven days drawing energy,” I said. “He then released it in one burst. Comparing how much he’s glowing now to the pictures from Houston, we can guess how long he’s been doing this.”

  “And theoretically,” Tia added, “we can guess how long we have until something very, very bad happens.”

  “We’re going to have to move up our timetable,” Prof said softly. “How soon can we prepare the hit on Newton?”

  That was still the plan: attack Newton, draw Regalia out, and use this information to pinpoint Regalia’s base. The firm way Prof spoke over the line seemed like he was talking directly to me. The Reckoners were going to kill Newton, not kidnap her—and my plan to do otherwise was foolish.

  I didn’t reply. It probably was foolish to try to kidnap her. For now, I’d go along with the plan as it stood.

  “A hit on Newton will be tough,” Tia said, “considering that we don’t know her weakness.”

  “She repels attacks on her,” Prof said. “So what if we just drown her? Force redirection won’t save her if she’s sinking into the ocean.”

  I shivered in horror at the thought.

  “That could do it,” Tia said. “I’ll work on a plan.”

  “Even if our hit on Newton doesn’t actually kill her,” Prof said, “we will probably be all right. The point of the attack will be to lure out Regalia, pinpoint her base, then take her out. If Newton lives on, so be it.”

  “And Obliteration?” I asked, finger itching on the trigger of my rifle. I removed my hand. Not only was this a shot I couldn’t make with any amount of reliability, but Obliteration’s danger sense would engage and he’d teleport away. Better he be somewhere we could keep an eye on him. If we started annoying him without a proper plan in place, he might just set up somewhere hidden and store energy.

  “Him we can’t leave running around free,” Prof agreed, speaking softly. “David’s right. We’ll need another plan for dealing with him. Soon.”

  I turned the scope of my rifle to scan the area around Obliteration. It was densely populated, as evidenced by the bridges in good repair and the tents with laundry hanging outside. Most people had wisely fled at the sight of Obliteration, but I could see a few who’d stayed, hidden near the edges of buildings or peeking out of nearby windows.

  Even after what this creature had done, curiosity got the better of people. Inspecting windows, I gathered that the majority of the people had fled down into the rooms below, hiding among the trees and vines.

  “We’re going to need his weakness, Tia,” Prof said over the line. “We can’t rely on exploiting quirks in his powers.”

  “I know,” she replied. “It’s just that ordinary research doesn’t work for Obliteration. Most Epics spend time around people and their peers. Secrets leak out. But he is so solitary; he tends to kill even other Epics who get too close to him.”

  Do not sorrow for this end of days, little one. I remembered the words Obliteration had spoken to me. Most Epics, in their megalomania, presumed some kind of dominance over the world. That Obliteration should quote religious texts and act like some divine agent wasn’t surprising.

  It didn’t make the words any less creepy though.

  As I scanned the rooftops nearby, I spotted someone standing on one of them, inspecting Obliteration through binoculars. I increased my zoom one level. Didn’t I know that face? I brought up my mobile and searched through it for the pictures of Newton’s gang members. Yes, this man was one of them, a thug named Knoxx. Not an Epic.

  “I see one of Newton’s gang,” I said, looking back through the scope. “Focused on him now.”

  “Hmm,” Tia said. “This is a deviation from their daily rounds, but it isn’t surprising, considering what Obliteration is doing.”

  I nodded, watching as the man lowered his binoculars and spoke into his mobile.

  “Yes,” Prof said, “probably just …”

  Suddenly the man melted.

  I caught my breath, losing the rest of what Prof was saying as I watched the man shift into the shape of a small pigeon. It took to the air and flew across the rooftop faster than I could track with my scope. I searched and finally located the animal landing on a different roof nearby, where he re-formed into a man.

  “He’s an Epic,” I whispered. “Shapeshifter. Val’s notes say his name is Knoxx, but she said he didn’t have any powers. Do you recognize him, Tia?”

  “I’ll have to search the records and see if any of the lorists mention him,” she said. “Newton’s gang often recruits lesser Epics; maybe Val’s team simply missed noticing this guy had abilities. Is Newton herself there?”

  “I don’t …,” I said, trailing off as something landed beside Knoxx. “Wait. That’s her. She just … Sparks! She jumped from the next building over. That has to be fifty feet easy.”

  The two started conversing, and what I wouldn’t have given to be able to hear what they were saying. Finally, Newton pointed one direction, then the other. Were they setting up a perimeter? I watched as the man formed into a bird again and flew off.

  Then Newton was gone. Sparks! That woman could move. I had to zoom back two steps to find her running across the rooftop. Her speed was impressive; by the display above my scope’s holosights, she was moving at fifty-three miles per hour. I’d read of Epics who could move faster than that, but this was only one of her secondary powers.

  Newton bounded up in a short hop and came down on the edge of a roof, then engaged her energy reflection power—she reflected the force of hitting the rooftop back downward, making her move like she was on a trampoline that perfectly conserved her energy. She shot into the air in a powerful, quick-moving arc and easily cleared the gap between buildings.

  “Wow,” Tia said softly.

  “Not as impressive as flying,” Prof grumbled.

  “No, it’s more impressive in some ways,” Tia said. “Think of the precision and mastery that requires.…”

  I nodded in agreement, though they couldn’t see. I followed Newton, moving my scope, as she leaped again. She landed on the roof of a large building right next to the one where Obliteration was, then pulled out her sword and started hacking away ropes on the bridge leading to another rooftop. She repeated this with the other two bridges on the building where she stood.

  “This is unusual behavior for her,” Tia said, sounding uncomfortable.

  My hand tightened on the rifle barrel. She’d completely isolated a building right next to the one Obliteration was on. Now the water surrounding the building was pulling away, like … like people at a party leaving space around someone with bad gas. The water rushed back some ten feet on all sides, then held there, exposing the bottom half of the building. It was rusted over and encrusted with barnacles.

  I glanced at Obliteration, sitting and glowing on the rooftop of the building next to the one the water had pulled away from. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even reacted.

  “What in Calamity’s shadow?” Tia whispered. “That water is Regalia’s doing, but why …?”

  I looked back at the isolated building where Newton strolled over to the stairwell leading down from the roof into the building proper. She took something off her belt and tossed it down the stairs, then threw two more small objects onto the rooftop nearby. Finally, she bounded away.

  “Firebombs,” I whispered as they exploded in quick s
uccession. “She’s burning the building down. With the people inside.”

  30

  I threw down the gun, scrambled back from the window, and leaped for the backpack. I unzipped it and pulled out the spyril.

  “David?” Tia asked urgently. “Leave the scope on the building!”

  “So you can watch those people die?” I asked, unpacking the wetsuit. Sparks! I didn’t have time for that. I started affixing the spyril over my clothing, pulling off my shoes and doing the legs first.

  “I need to observe Newton’s behavior,” Tia said, ever the academic. We were alike in some ways, but this was what separated us—I couldn’t detach myself and just watch. “Newton hasn’t killed in years,” she continued, “save for a few quiet executions of rivals or those who threatened Regalia’s peace. Why do something this atrocious now?”

  “Regalia is making an example of those people,” Prof said softly over the line. “She’s using her power in an obvious way, to make it clear that this is her will—and to keep the people in the building from jumping into the water. This is meant to tell everyone to stay away from Obliteration. Like a corpse hung from the walls of a medieval city.”

  “Makes sense,” Tia said. “He’s going to have to sit out there for several days, immobile, and Regalia won’t want him interrupted.”

  “We’re witnessing her slide from benevolent but harsh dictator into all-destroying tyrant,” Prof said quietly.

  “I’m not going to ‘witness’ it,” I said, pulling another strap tight. “I’m going to stop it.”

  “David—” Prof said over the line.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I spat. “Reckless heroism. I’m not going to just sit here.”

  “But why,” Tia said, voice softer. “Why is Regalia doing this? She could swallow the city in water, couldn’t she? Why use Obliteration. Sparks … Why destroy the city at all? This isn’t like Abigail.”

  “The Abigail we knew is dead,” Prof said. “Only Regalia remains. David, if you save those people, she will only kill others. She will make certain her point gets made.”

  “I don’t care,” I said, trying to get the thin backplate of the spyril into place. This was a lot harder without Exel or Mizzy to help. “If we stop helping people because we’re afraid, or ambivalent or whatever, then we lose. Let them do evil. I’ll stop them.”

  “You’re not omnipotent, David,” Prof said. “You’re just human.”

  I faltered for a moment, holding the pieces of the spyril. The powers of a dead Epic. Then I redoubled my efforts, pulling on the gloves, locking the wires in place from hands and legs up to the backplate. I stood up and engaged the streambeam—the laserlike line that would draw water once pointed at it. I looked back out through the window. The blaze had fully started, black smoke billowing up into the air.

  I’d forgotten how wide the bay was separating me from the burning building. The scope made things look close, but I had a lot of water to cross before reaching the burning building.

  Well, I’d just have to work more quickly. I placed my earpiece and mobile into the waterproof pocket of my pants. Then I took a deep breath and jumped out the window.

  Pointing the streambeam downward, I started the water jets on my legs enough to slow my impact and splashed down into the ocean water. The shock of the cold and the taste of the briny salt was immediate. Sparks! It was way colder than it had been during practice.

  Fortunately, I had the spyril. I pointed myself toward the smoking building and jetted away. This time, unfortunately, I didn’t have one of Prof’s forcefields, and each time I came crashing down into the ocean porpoiselike, water hit my face like the slap of a jilted lover.

  I dealt with it. Gasping for breath each time I emerged from the ocean. Sparks! The waves were a lot stronger out here than they had been in the Central Park sea, and it was tough to see when surrounded by them.

  I slowed the jets to get my bearings and had a moment of severe disorientation. I was in the middle of nothing. With the waves surging, I couldn’t see the city at all, and it seemed like I was in a vast, endless sea. Infinity all around me, the depths below.

  Panic.

  What was I doing out here? What was wrong with me? I started hyperventilating, twisting myself about. Each wave was a threat trying to pull me underneath the water. I got a mouthful of brine.

  Luckily, some gut instinct to survive kicked in and I engaged the spyril, jetting myself up out of the water.

  Hanging there, water dripping from my clothing, I gasped for air and squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted to move. I needed to move. But in those moments, I could more easily have lifted a semi truck filled with pudding.

  That water. All that water …

  I took a deep breath and tried to slow my breathing, then forced my eyes open. From my vantage hovering on the spyril jets, I could see over the waves. I’d gotten turned around, and had to reorient myself. I’d crossed half the distance and needed to continue, but it was sparking difficult to motivate myself to release the streambeam and fall back down.

  With effort, I let myself down, splashing back into the sea. I used the black smoke rising into the sky as a guidepost. I thought of the people inside the building. With no water to jump to, they’d likely be fleeing from the flames above, moving down to the lower levels. But that would leave them to drown when the waters returned.

  How horrible a death that would be, trapped inside a building as the waters rushed back in, perversely stuck between the heat above and the cold depths below.

  Furious, I increased the speed of the spyril.

  Something snapped.

  Suddenly, I was spinning in a rush of water and bubbles. I cut the thrust. Blast! One of the footjets had stopped working. I struggled to the surface, coughing, cold. It was really hard to stay afloat with the weight of the now-powerless spyril towing me down and with my clothing still on.

  And why was it so hard to float? I was made of mostly water, right? Shouldn’t I float easily?

  Fighting the swells, I tried to reach down and fix the spyril jet. But I didn’t even know what had caused it to stop working, and I wasn’t particularly good at swimming unaided. Eventually the inevitable happened and I started sinking. I had to engage the single working jet of my spyril to get back afloat.

  I felt like I’d swallowed half the ocean so far. Coughing, I started to panic again as I realized just how dangerous the open waters could be. I positioned my one leg with a working jet behind me, turned the spyril on half power, and pushed myself toward the distant buildings.

  I could focus only on keeping myself afloat and pointed toward civilization. It was slow going. Too slow. Keenly, I felt the shame of having rushed in to be a hero only to end up limping along, having nearly created a new crisis instead of solving the first one. What better example of Prof’s warnings could I get?

  Fortunately, my terror was manageable, so long as I had that spyril jet to give me some measure of control over the situation. As I got closer to the city, the water warmed around me. Eventually, blessedly, I reached one of the outer buildings, a low one with the roof only two stories or so out of the water. The single jet was enough to propel me upward—if at an unexpected angle—and I grabbed the rooftop’s lip and hauled myself over, coughing.

  Though the spyril had done all the work, I was exhausted. I flopped over, smelling smoke in the air, and stared at the sky.

  Those people. I tried to climb to my feet. Maybe I could …

  The building blazed nearby, only one street over. Fully alight, the top half had burned completely, an inferno. I could feel the heat even from a distance. This was more than the work of just one or two firebombs. Either Newton had continued throwing more in, or the place had been primed to go up. Around the structure, water coursed in a vortex, revealing a broken, wet street far below.

  A few corpses spotted the ground. People had tried to leap free of the flames.

  Even as I watched, the water was released. It crashed back in upon the building, and t
he hissing indicated that the fire had managed to creep down toward those levels that had formerly been submerged. The impact caused the top floors of the building to collapse into the water, blowing steam into the air with a horrible noise.

  I stumbled to my feet, feeling utterly defeated. On a nearby roof I saw Regalia’s watery projection standing with hands clasped before her. She looked toward me, then melted into the surface of the sea and vanished.

  I collapsed onto the rooftop. Why? It was so pointless.

  Prof is right, I thought. They murder indiscriminately. Why did I think that any of them could be good?

  My pants buzzed. I sighed, fishing out my mobile. I got a little water on it, but Mizzy said it was fully waterproof.

  Prof was calling. I lifted the mobile beside my head, ready to accept my lecture. I could see now what had caused the spyril to malfunction—I hadn’t done the wires correctly leading to the left leg. They’d come undone. A simple problem, one that wouldn’t have happened if I’d been more careful putting on the equipment.

  “Yeah,” I said into the phone.

  “Is she gone?” Prof’s voice asked.

  “Who?”

  “Regalia. She was watching, wasn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Probably still is, remotely,” Prof said. He sounded winded. “I’ll have to sneak these people out in the sub, somehow.”

  I stood up. “Prof?” I said, excited.

  “Don’t look too eager,” he said with a grunt. “She’s probably watching you. Act dejected.” In the background, over the line, I heard a child crying. “Can you quiet her?” Prof snapped to someone.

  “You’re in the building,” I said. “You … you saved them!”

  “David,” Prof said, voice tense. “This is not a good time for me. Do you understand?”

  He’s keeping the water and the flames back, I realized. With forcefields.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “I left the sub behind. I had to run across the bottom of the ocean to get here.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Is that possible?”