Firefight

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Exactly,” I said.

  Prof’s plan made sense, though, at least with the limited information he had. If the point was to draw Regalia, then hitting two of her Epics—instead of one—would be that much more likely to get her attention.

  “If Prof is down in Chinatown,” I said, “then who’s watching Obliteration?”

  “Nobody. Prof said it was unlikely he’d be charged enough to release his power today. And we have the camera, so Tia can watch him.”

  I felt cold. Everything we’d done could have been part of Regalia’s plan, camera included. “How quickly do you think you can get there to check on Obliteration?”

  “Ten, fifteen minutes, running. Why?”

  “Let’s just say I have a really, really bad feeling about all of this.”

  “Okaaaay …” She stood back, the spyril strapped into place on me. “You looked far more dashing with the wetsuit, you know. It gave you a kind of crazy-Navy-SEAL-special-ops-dude feel. Without it, you have more of a crazy-homeless-guy-who-strapped-a-toaster-to-his-back vibe.”

  “Great. Maybe it will make people underestimate me.”

  “Prof’s an Epic, isn’t he?” she asked softly.

  I glanced at her, then nodded, fitting my hands into the gloves one at a time. “When did you figure it out?”

  “I’m not sure. It just kind of makes sense, you know? The way you’ve all been acting around him, the secrets, the way Tia wouldn’t explain how you rescued those people in the building. I probably should have put it together earlier.”

  “You’re smarter than I am. He had to put a forcefield in front of my face before I realized what he was.”

  “So this isn’t about us getting revenge or putting down Epics or even punishing criminals,” Mizzy said, sounding exhausted. “It’s a power struggle. A turf war.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “It’s about making Prof be the man I know he can be … the Epic I know he can be.”

  “I don’t get it,” Mizzy said. “Why isn’t he those things already?”

  “Because,” I said, pulling the second glove tight, “sometimes you have to help the heroes along.”

  “All riiight,” she said.

  “Here,” I said, handing her one of the walkie-talkies I’d stolen. “We can keep in contact with these.”

  She shrugged, taking the hand radio. She fished a plastic baggie out of her pocket and put it in. “In case it falls in the water,” she noted, shaking it.

  “Good idea,” I said, taking one of the baggies.

  Mizzy hesitated, then handed over her gun as well. It was dark, but I thought she was blushing. “Here,” she said. “Since I’m obviously not cut out for using one of these.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Ammo?”

  She only had one extra magazine. Well, it was better than nothing. I slipped the magazine into my pocket and the handgun into my waistband.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  45

  I burst up out of the stairwell, spyril humming on my back, and emerged to a nauseating scene. Newton’s people had found the malcontents who had thrown the fruit, it appeared, for two men hung dead from tent poles near where I emerged. A glowing piece of fruit had been stuffed into each of their mouths; iridescent juice ran down the sides of their faces and dripped from their chins.

  I saluted them as I ran past. They’d acted foolishly, but they’d fought back. That was better than most in this city. As I ran, merchants looked up from stalls where they packed away wares. Some people knelt praying to Dawnslight, and they called to me, inviting me to join. I ignored everyone, making my way straight to the edge of the rooftop, then leaped. A moment later I shot into the air on jets of water.

  I leaned forward, the buildings blurring past as the spyril powered me down the street. I had to cut the jets to quarter power to drop below a swinging bridge, but I popped back up on the other side, smiling as I caught sight of a dozen or so children lined up, pointing toward me.

  My hand radio crackled. “This thing working?” Mizzy asked.

  “Yup,” I said back.

  No reply.

  Right. Stupid thing. I pointedly pushed down the broadcast button. “It’s working, Mizzy,” I said, raising the walkie-talkie to my lips.

  “Great.” Her voice was staticky. Sparks! These things were only about one step up from two cans with a string between them.

  “I might not always be able to reply,” I said back to her. “When I’m using the spyril, I need both hands to turn.”

  “Just try to keep the radio from getting too wet,” Mizzy said. “Old technology doesn’t mix well with water.”

  “Understood,” I said back. “I’ll treat it like a giant, angry, man-eating dragon.”

  “And … what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Well, would you throw water on a giant, angry, man-eating dragon?” Buildings full of neon light whooshed past me on either side. At this rate, I’d reach Prof’s location in minutes.

  “No sign of the submarine or the others up here, David,” Mizzy said. I had to hold the thing right up to my ear to hear over the sound of the wind. “They should have sent someone to investigate why I went silent. Something must have stopped them.”

  “Continue on to Obliteration,” I said. “We don’t have time to waste. Tell me what he’s doing.”

  “Gotcha,” Mizzy said.

  I just had to—

  A spurt of water rose up beside me from below and formed into Regalia. She hung in the air next to me, moving at my same speed, a small line of water connecting her to the ocean’s surface.

  “You have upset my plans,” she noted. “I’m not fond of people who do that. Calamity won’t respond to my questions of why you didn’t gain powers.”

  I continued jetting along. Maybe she’d keep talking and give me a chance to get closer to Prof.

  “What did you do?” she asked. “To reject the boon? I hadn’t thought it possible.”

  I gave no reply.

  “Very well then,” Regalia said with a sigh. “You realize I can’t let you reach Jonathan. Good night, David Charleston, Steelslayer.”

  The water spraying from my jets below suddenly split, blowing out to the sides instead of striking the ocean surface. But I didn’t fall, at least not by much, as the water wasn’t holding me aloft—the force of it jetting out did that. Regalia, it appeared, didn’t quite understand the physics of the spyril. I wasn’t surprised. Epics rarely have to pay attention to physics.

  I jetted to the side and ignored her interference, dodging around a building by using the handjet to maneuver. Regalia appeared beside me a moment later, and large columns of water rose from the street below to grab me.

  I took a deep breath, tucked my radio in the baggie in my pocket, then threw myself to the side, dodging down another street. Dozens of tendrils from the deep below snaked upward, reaching for me. I had to turn my jets downward and shoot straight up in order to avoid being snared. Unfortunately, Regalia’s tendrils followed, twisting and writhing just beneath me. My jets started to lose power as I got too high—the streambeam could only reach so far.

  I had no choice but to twist in the air and jet back downward. I crashed through the side of a tendril, a wash of crisp coldness enveloping me, but exited the other side in a spray. The tendril tried to wrap around me, but it was a hair too slow. They relied on Regalia’s direction to work, and seemed to only be as fast as she could give them orders.

  Feeling a boost of confidence, I wove between the other tendrils of water as I fell, wind buffeting my face, before finally twisting and slowing my fall when I was near to the surface. I shot down another street, weaving from side to side as enormous waves of water formed beneath, seeking to crash down upon me. I managed to get out of the way of each one.

  “You,” Regalia said, appearing beside me, “are as annoying a rat as Jonathan himself.”

  I grinned, spraying downward with the handjet and bobbing myself upward over a
nother growing tendril. I twisted to the side and slashed between two others. I was now thoroughly soaked—hopefully that radio’s baggie would hold.

  This was the most thrilling thing I’d ever done, jetting through this city of dark velvety blacks and vibrant colors, passing amazed locals, open-mouthed, on rocking boats. In Newcago there had been a rule to never let me drive, just because of a few unfortunate incidents with cars and … um … walls. With the spyril, though, I could move with freedom and power. I didn’t need a car. I was a car.

  As I came to another batch of tendrils, I jetted to the side, leaning into the turn like a surfer, then shot down a side road. I almost smashed right into an enormous wall of water, as tall as the rooftops on either side, rising to tower over me. It immediately began to crash downward.

  In a panic I screamed and jetted sideways through a window and into one of the buildings. I hit the floor in a roll, my jets cutting off. Water smashed into the wall outside, washing into the windows and across me. Various office paraphernalia surged upward, banging against tree trunks, but the water quickly rushed out the other direction.

  Wet, frantic, I scrambled deeper into the office jungle. Tendrils of water broke in through the windows at my back, snaking after me. Sparks! I instinctively scrambled deeper into the structure, farther from the water outside—and the source of Regalia’s power. But that also put me far from the source of the spyril’s power. Without it, I was just a wet guy with a handgun facing down one of the most powerful Epics who had ever lived.

  I made a snap decision and continued inward, for now, shoving my way past old desks and enormous mountains of overgrown roots. Maybe I could lose her in here. Unfortunately, as I made my way inward, I heard water tendrils breaking through windows on the other side of the building. I scrambled out into a hallway and found water creeping toward me, running across the old carpet.

  She was flooding the place.

  She’s trying to see, I realized. She could send water in through the windows and cover the floor of the entire office. She’d be able to see into any nook. I ran the other direction, trying to find a stairwell or another way out, and burst into another large office space. Here, translucent tentacles of water wove between the trunks of trees like the prehensile stalks of some enormous, many-eyed slug.

  Heart beating more quickly, I ducked back into the hallway. Light shone behind me from fruit that had been knocked by the tentacles, sending dancing shadows down the hall. A disco for the damned.

  My back to the wall, I realized I was trapped. I looked at the fruit next to me.

  Worth a try.

  “I could use some help, Dawnslight,” I said.

  Wait, was I praying now? This wasn’t the same thing at all, was it?

  Nothing happened.

  “Uh …,” I said. “This isn’t a dream, by the way. Some help. Please?”

  The lights went out.

  In an instant, the fruit just stopped glowing. I started, heart pounding. Without the glowing fruit, the place was as black as the inside of a can of black paint that had also been painted black. Despite the darkness, though, I heard the tendrils thrashing and coming close.

  It looked like turning the lights out was the best Dawnslight could do for me. Desperate, I fumbled my way down the hallway in one last mad dash toward freedom.

  The tendrils of water struck.

  Right at the place where I’d been standing before.

  I couldn’t see it, but I could feel them brush past me, converging on that location. I stumbled away, listening to the crash of water hitting wall, and fell back against one of them in the dark—a large, armlike glob of water, cold to the touch. I accidently put my hand into it, and my skin sank right through.

  I pulled it out with a start and backed away, hitting another tendril. None of them stopped moving, but they didn’t come for me. I wasn’t crushed in the darkness.

  She … can’t feel with them, I realized. They don’t convey a sense of touch! So if she can’t see, she can’t direct them.

  Incredulous, I poked another of the tendrils in the darkness, then slapped it. Perhaps not the smartest thing I’d ever done, but it provoked no reaction. The tendrils continued thrashing about randomly.

  I backed away, putting as much room between myself and those tendrils as possible. It wasn’t easy, as I kept stumbling over tree trunks. But …

  Light?

  A single fruit glowed up above. I chased it. It hung in front of a stairwell, and the floor here was dry. No water for Regalia to peer through.

  “Thanks,” I said, stepping forward. My foot crunched something. A fortune cookie. I grabbed it and opened it.

  She’s going to destroy the city, it read. You don’t have much time left. Stop her!

  “Trying,” I muttered, squeezing between vines to climb into the stairwell and starting upward. Fruit glowed to light my way, then winked out behind me.

  On the next level was a floor where all of the fruit glowed, but no water tendrils sought to capture me. Regalia didn’t know where I’d gone. Excellent. I crept out into another office room. This floor was cultivated, to an extent, with carefully kept pathways and trees that had been trimmed into a garden. It was a striking sight, after the wildness of the other levels.

  I started down a path, imagining the people who had decided to take this floor and make it their own personal garden, buried in the middle of a building. I was so captivated by the imagery I nearly missed the blinking fruit. It hung right in front of me and pulsed with a soft light.

  A warning of some sort? Cautious, I continued forward, then heard a footstep on the path ahead.

  My breath caught, and I ducked off the path and into the foliage. The fruit closest to me went out, making the area around me darker. A few moments later Newton strode down the path and passed right under the fruit that had pulsed.

  She had her katana out resting on her shoulder, and she carried a cup of water.

  A cup of water?

  “This is a distraction,” Newton said. “Unimportant.”

  “You’ll do as told.” Regalia’s voice rose from the cup. “I heard him moving down there, but he’s gone silent. He’s hiding in the darkness, hoping we’ll go away.”

  “I have to make it to the confrontation with the others,” Newton protested. “Steelslayer is meaningless. If I don’t fall into their trap, then how are you going to—”

  “Obviously you’re right,” Regalia said.

  Newton stopped in place.

  “You are a wonderful help,” Regalia continued. “So brilliant. And … Blast. I need to deal with Jonathan. Find that rat.”

  Newton cursed under her breath and continued on, leaving me behind. I shivered, waiting until I heard the door to the stairwell shut, then I stepped back out onto the path.

  Regalia was worried enough about me to pull Newton away from other plans to hunt me. That seemed a very good sign. It meant she felt that keeping me from warning Prof was extremely important.

  So I had to break through and reach him. Unfortunately, the moment I stepped out of this building, I’d be in the bull’s-eye again. I’d have to push through it, dodging as I had been before. I walked up to a window and prepared to leap out, but then found that my pocket was buzzing. I dug in it, pulling out the baggie, and removed the radio.

  “Are you there? David, please answer!”

  “I’m here, Mizzy,” I said softly.

  “Thank heavens,” she said, tense. “David, you were right. Obliteration isn’t here!”

  “Are you sure?” I said, checking out the window.

  “Yes! They’ve set up a kind of white mannequin thing with a floodlight right underneath it, so it glows like Obliteration. They then filled the rooftop with other powerful floodlights; that makes it seem like he’s still here, but he isn’t.”

  “That’s why she wanted to keep everyone away,” I said. Sparks. Obliteration was somewhere in the city, planning to destroy the entire place.

  “I’m almost to Pr
of,” I said. “Regalia keeps getting in my way. See if you can turn off the lights. That will warn the other Reckoners, assuming I don’t make it.”

  “Okaaaay,” Mizzy said. “I don’t like this, David.” She sounded scared.

  “Good,” I said back. “Means you aren’t crazy. See what you can do. I’m going to make a final push toward Prof.”

  “Right.”

  I tucked the radio away, then glanced at a glowing fruit hanging nearby. “Thanks again for the help,” I said. “If you have anything more like that to throw my way in the future, I wouldn’t say no.”

  The fruit blinked.

  I nodded grimly, then took a deep breath and jumped out the window.

  46

  I got about two streets from the building before Regalia found me. She appeared on the surface of the water along my path, standing tall, her eyes wide and alight and her hands to the sides as if to hold up the sky. Waves rose around her like the peaks of a crown emerging from the water.

  This time she didn’t bother with conversation. Jets of water erupted beneath me. The first one clipped me along the side, slashing through both clothing and skin. I gasped in pain, then started weaving and bobbing, using the handjet to dodge to the side as Regalia sent an enormous ripple through the water that crested some fifteen feet high. It chased me around a corner but broke against a building as I landed on the roof and ran across it. I passed tents and screaming people and caught the scent of something odd in the air. Smoke?

  I leaped off the other side of the building, and as I did, a blur zipped across the rooftop beside me. I yelped, cutting my jets and dropping just beneath the blur, which launched toward me, trailing an afterimage of neon red.

  The blur passed right over my head, then landed on the building across from me, where it pulled to a stop, revealing Newton, katana in hand. She whipped out a handgun and spun in my direction.

  Sparks! I should have been expecting her. I dove downward, passing the stories of a nearby building in a flash, and hit water as the popping noises of gunfire sounded above.