Blaze of Embers

by Cam Baity

  An inhalation.

  Down She came. Seawater erupted hundreds of feet high. Tidal waves tore away from Her impact. They crashed upon the island of Foundry Central and the shores of Albright City in great frothing leaps. Battleships rose and teetered like toys in a bathtub. The ocean boiled around the titanic pillars of Her legs as She stood towering out of its depths, spouting curtains of briny vapor.

  For a moment, nothing moved. The sea settled. Steam dissipated.

  Then came the barrage. Bullets, tank shells, and missiles flew from Albright City, streaking at Her like lightning. Aircraft opened fire and stitched the sky with smoke. The Mother of Ore did not react. Their cannonade punched through the clouds of Her body, popping and detonating futilely within. As She devoured their munitions, the hellish storm brewing inside Her grew.

  She was unstoppable.

  The army of mehkans erupted in cheers. They chanted the name of their redeemer, their arms raised in victory. Only the Associates were left in stunned silence.

  They snapped out of it at the same time. Mr. Pynch ran one way, and the Marquis ran the other, both frantically looking for a way to rescue their friends. The lumie spun around and extended his arm to snag his partner by the collar.

  Blinketyblinky!

  “I know!” Mr. Pynch yelped. “Point yer peeper thither. They still be up there?”

  Blunkblunks, the Marquis said with a shake of his opticle.

  “Well then, we gotta ride that lifty-box up to find out for ourselves!” he insisted.

  The Marquis tugged at his wreath of leashed lenses as if he were pulling his hair out—flickflickflashyblinkeroo!

  “Whaddya mean its stuck up there?!”

  Stutterstrobeblinkflick!

  “Then what do we do? What can we do?!” Mr. Pynch said as he and his associate looked frantically around the abandoned construction site for an idea.

  Then something occurred to the frenzied balvoor.

  “Where’s Fritz?” Mr. Pynch wondered aloud.

  In response, an engine growled and headlamps flared, announcing their solution.

  Phoebe, Micah, and Goodwin stood at the edge of the platform, clutching the safety rail as they stared in breathless wonder at the Great Engineer. Dollop, Orei, and the Ona murmured prayers in a rapid stream—the Aegis remained silent as ever.

  Makina stood unmoving as She absorbed the blasts of a thousand weapons. The walls of rising steam mingled with Her cloudy form, further obscuring Her from the attackers. Aircraft darted and circled as they kept up a relentless bombardment.

  Phoebe wanted to scream at them to retreat, that their attacks were futile against Her, but it was hopeless.

  The Great Engineer spread Her arms, and ribbon-like spirals unfurled from Her hands. The smoking tendrils snaked through the sky, each tracking a different aircraft. The vehicles tried to evade, but Makina’s coils found their marks. Squadrons of Aero-copters and Gyrojets were incinerated, their metal bodies instantly heating from red to white, liquefying in midair.

  Still, Meridian did not relent. From all along the coast came bright flashes of machine-gun fire. Missiles flew at Her in a breathless deluge. Most detonated within Her body, but some streaked away into the night sky to explode in deafening bursts.

  In the distant bay, the Quorum awaited Meridian’s imminent destruction.

  “Tell Her to stop!” Phoebe shouted to the Ona. “It’s not too late! You can still—”

  A shadow fell from above. It smashed onto the prophet with a wet thud.

  And released a gurgling snarl.

  Kaspar.

  He vomited sizzling CHAR at the Ona, and she screeched.

  Goodwin threw himself protectively in front of the kids. Kaspar’s head snapped up, and his dead eyes swelled like black boils as they fell upon the Chairman. He lunged.

  But a midnight-blue scythe hooked his shoulder, yanked him back. Orei twirled into him, razor-like rings slicing. He tried to strike at her, but she dodged out of his reach. Then flashes of copper red—a pair of flying boomerang blades dove like falcons, and a drill-headed whip lashed like a viper. Four Aegis warriors, blinking in and out of visibility, surrounded Kaspar. They attacked the dripping abomination with their living weapons, cutting him off from the Ona, who crawled away moaning.

  Fins convulsing, the prophet tugged at her Bearing. It was spattered with CHAR, and its golden ore bubbled and melted as she fumbled at it with feathered fingers.

  The Ona tore her mask away. Phoebe and Micah gasped.

  Even without the Bearing, the Ona’s face was partially covered. A pulsing, glowing shape clung to her mouth, its gelatinous limbs gripping her jaw—a white star.

  The Occulyth.

  “And through the grace of Her Occulyth, I was able to commune with Makina,” Phoebe muttered, repeating the Ona’s words.

  Dollop’s amber eyes went wide.

  “We gotta get it back,” Micah growled.

  Phoebe’s instincts took over. She pushed past Goodwin and charged the Ona, tackling her and knocking her to the platform. The prophet’s marbled eyes went wild. Ventricles opened on the Occulyth like parting valves on a living instrument—they shrieked, amplifying the Ona’s voice.

  With all her might, Phoebe clawed at the white star. The prophet’s veils slashed at her. Micah and Dollop rushed the Ona to pin her flailing limbs down. Phoebe saw the flicker of a camouflaged cloak as an Aegis warrior tried to come to the Ona’s aid. But Kaspar tackled the mehkan in a sizzling grasp and hauled him back into the melee.

  Teeth bared, Phoebe pulled with all her strength. The Occulyth ripped free.

  The white star spasmed in her hands. Phoebe lost her grip.

  It skittered across the platform and slid to a stop right near the edge.

  Phoebe, Micah, and Dollop tried to go after it, but the Ona held them fast. Her veils constricted like tentacles, trying to suffocate them. Her mouth was spattered with peculiar glowing white blood. Dollop broke apart and squirmed from the prophet’s grip.

  “Take cover!” Goodwin hollered.

  A stray missile screamed toward the Crest. It exploded into one of the massive support columns, knocking everyone to the deck.

  The platform quaked. Supports gave way, cables snapped.

  Dollop dashed for the Occulyth, but the blast jostled it free. The white star slipped under the railing and fell from sight. Dollop clambered over the edge in pursuit.

  Debris clanged down around them. Everyone scrambled to dodge falling wreckage.

  Goodwin tore the kids from the Ona’s grip and stood protectively between her and them. Phoebe and Micah moved to follow Dollop over the railing.

  “No! We have to go!” Goodwin snapped at the kids, eyes fixed on the prophet.

  The shattered remains of the Crest groaned overhead. A titanic twisted ray dangled perilously, like a suspended sword. It hung by a thin bundle of cables connected to a quivering winch on the far side of the platform, facing Foundry Central.

  “No!” Phoebe said. “The Occulyth is the only thing that might stop Makina!”

  Goodwin hesitated, afraid, but he nodded. The kids raced for the nearest ladder and vaulted down. The Ona rose to her feet, screaming orders in Rattletrap.

  And all the while, Makina stormed toward Albright City.

  As Orei and the ring of Aegis warriors drove Kaspar to his knees, two of the Emberguard disengaged and rushed to the Ona’s side. The prophet barked orders to the pair, who then sprang over the railing and down after the kids. Kaspar howled in pain and spun into a CHAR-spewing rage at his remaining three attackers.

  The Ona made for the nearest ladder, but Goodwin intercepted. He had unbound his leg splint and brandished the length of rebar like a weapon, his other hand clutching the railing for support. The prophet smiled sympathetically.

  She streaked at him, propelled by a thrust of her fins. Goodwin swung the rod and batted away two, three grasping hands. A prehensile veil coiled around his wounded leg. He cried out and bashed i
t away only to be swarmed by more. She squeezed—he crumpled under the pain. He tried to swipe at her with the rebar. The Ona dodged and easily wrenched the weapon from his hands.

  “Now,” she soothed in his ear, “you will have your peace.”

  She plunged the metal rod into his gut.

  The Ona drifted away from Goodwin’s writhing body and descended the ladder, leaving him gasping, bleeding out on the platform.

  Down they went, Phoebe just behind Micah. Beneath the platform were tiers of scaffolding, webbed together with iron ladders, narrow catwalks, and pipe rails.

  In the distance, Makina was a roiling tempest of fiery tornadoes. The sea frothed to foam, and trees burst into flame as She crashed ashore. The military scattered and retreated before the Great Engineer, who rained destruction upon Albright City.

  They had to get the Occulyth back—NOW.

  “Where is it?” Phoebe cried.

  “Here!” came Dollop’s warble from below.

  Phoebe peered down over the edge and tried not to swoon at the nauseating height. Two levels down, she saw Dollop, shinnying along a wide beam on all fours.

  The Occulyth lay at the end of it, flaring bright, as if afraid.

  Phoebe and Micah raced down two more ladders and skidded to a stop at Dollop’s level. There were no walkways or handrails down here—just a framework of naked beams. Dollop was a dozen yards away. He turned to them, amber eyes bugged out, face lit from below with a ghostly glow. The Occulyth was in his hands.

  Gingerly, he shuffled along the beam, inching back to the kids.

  A sharp, unexpected blast of wind nearly blew Phoebe from her precarious perch, but Micah grabbed her coveralls and held on with all his might.

  An explosion in Albright City—a golden skyscraper sank in slow motion, its constellation of lights blinking out. The Uniton Tower. Gone.

  Dollop was closing the distance between them, but he was still too far away and going slow. With every second that passed, lives were being lost in Meridian’s capital.

  “Dollop!” Phoebe screamed. “Put the Occulyth on!”

  He shook his head, frightened beyond measure.

  “Do it!” Micah ordered. “She’s gonna kill everyone!”

  Phoebe had no choice. She didn’t look down, certain that even a glance at the angry ocean below would destroy whatever nerve she had left. Clinging to a vertical strut for balance, Phoebe stepped onto the beam that Dollop was clinging to. The little mehkan rearranged his pieces to extend his arm. He held the Occulyth out to her.

  She reached for it. Stretched. Her fingers grazed it.

  The air shimmered between them.

  A forceful blow knocked her and Dollop back. Phoebe staggered, almost fell. Hugged the strut for dear life, her heart doing backflips. Dollop slipped, flailed, scrabbled for a handhold. He snapped back together, locked onto the beam.

  The Occulyth hovered in midair—in the hands of an Aegis warrior.

  In a dark ripple of wind, the hidden mehkan scurried up the scaffolding like a spider to return the Occulyth. Dollop hurled his pieces into the air, one after the other, bits of him climbing in pursuit of the Aegis warrior and re-forming along the way.

  Micah hauled Phoebe back to the ladder, and they scrambled up as fast as they could. One level up, they caught a glimpse of the white star’s glare. It was at the opposite end of the walkway, floating in the invisible warrior’s grasp. Climbing higher.

  In a blur that was too fast to follow, Dollop pounced on the Aegis warrior’s back. The Emberguard bucked and fought as Dollop kept shifting and reassembling. Their little friend couldn’t do much, but it was enough to slow the warrior’s ascent.

  A command in Rattletrap rang from above.

  The Ona was storming down to reclaim the Occulyth.

  As the kids raced to help Dollop, the Aegis warrior hurled him to the walkway. But Dollop refused to give up. He seized the camouflaged cloak and held on, tearing it free from the fleeing Emberguard.

  Phoebe and Micah raced for the nearest ladder, hoping to cut the warrior off before he could reach the Ona. A wavering smear slammed down in front of them. They both tumbled back and fell to the trembling walkway.

  Another Aegis warrior—this one intent on killing them.

  A pair of long copper-red claws appeared, each digit flicking like a scorpion’s tail. They slashed, then vanished beneath the shifting cloak. The kids tried to scamper out of reach. A claw whistled past Phoebe’s ear, cleaved the handrail in two, then disappeared again. The walkway vibrated with the warrior’s every advancing step.

  The claws whipped out in a whoosh of wind.

  Interrupted by a loud thunk.

  The Aegis warrior was gone in a blink, swatted off the scaffolding. Something huge roared past, flickering brightly—BLINKETY-BLINK-BLUNK!

  “Ma-Marquis!” Dollop cried.

  The lumie was swinging rapidly away from them, his arms looped around a massive mechanical claw. It was suspended from heavy chains and cables that ran high above to the boom arm of an Over-crane. Far off, the operator’s cab glowed with sparks, illuminating two silhouettes. Fritz and the Associates had come to their rescue.

  The kids ran to the end of the walkway to join Dollop. Micah tripped on something—the Aegis warrior’s camouflaged cloak. His eyes lit up.

  “Lift me!” Dollop said to Phoebe.

  Before she could ask why, the little mehkan crawled up onto her shoulders. She held his legs to help him balance. The crane claw slowed and started to swing back like a pendulum. Dollop reached up. The Marquis adjusted his grip, holding on to the claw with his legs and extending his long squiggly arms. The lumie snatched Dollop off her shoulders like a trapeze artist as he zoomed past.

  Dollop screamed something to the Marquis, and after a quick command from his opticle to the Over-crane cab, the giant claw ascended in pursuit of the Occulyth.

  Phoebe braced herself to do the same but froze.

  Where was Micah?

  She scanned the scaffolding but could not see him anywhere. Panic set in. Where had he run off to? No time to consider it. Phoebe rushed to the ladder, bolted up, and then flew up another one. The exposed Aegis warrior was a stone’s throw away down the walkway.

  He was on one knee, offering the white star to the Ona.

  Phoebe was too late.

  The crane claw crashed into the scaffolding, jolting the prophet and the warrior violently. The Occulyth skittered out of the Ona’s reach and tumbled to the level below. The walkway shuddered, and Phoebe held on for dear life. The platform groaned.

  Dollop and the Marquis leapt off the Over-crane and attacked the Emberguard, who was on his feet in a flash. The Ona scrambled down a ladder in pursuit of the Occulyth. Phoebe followed, barreling toward the prophet full steam.

  But it wasn’t enough. The Ona was too far away—at the far end of a jutting catwalk.

  The prophet retrieved the white star.

  A distortion of air in front of Phoebe.

  The Ona raised the Occulyth to her face—and was slammed backward.

  She toppled over the railing. Her fins flailed wildly. She caught on to something invisible, arresting her fall. The white star flew from her hands.

  The Ona screamed as the Occulyth tumbled down, down to the ocean below.

  Her weight tore away a camouflage cloak to reveal—

  “Micah!” Phoebe shouted and raced toward him.

  But the Ona held her attacker fast, her veils wrapping around his legs, dragging him down with her. He slid beneath the railing.

  Phoebe leapt for Micah. Grabbed him just before he fell over the edge.

  She hung over the precipice of the catwalk, facing the murderous sea thousands of feet below. Micah looked helplessly up at her, his mouth twisted in fear. And dangling below him, clinging like a golden leech, was the Ona. Her face was flecked with white blood and warped in rage.

  Phoebe felt her grip slipping as the Ona clawed her way up Micah’s body. The prophet’s te
ndrils snaked around his neck.

  “Let go of me,” he ordered Phoebe. “Do it!”

  She whimpered, shook her head. But she was losing her grip.

  “Makina will never stop!” the Ona snarled. “Not until the last of you is dead!”

  There was a thunder growing in Phoebe’s ears.

  “This is their end! This curse they brought upon themselves!” The prophet was inching up, her weight pulling Micah down. “But not you, Phoebe. Your curse is within. Only the Shroud can save you—you know this. And soon, you will die without it.”

  The seed at Phoebe’s throat went cold.

  The thunder was deafening, and a powerful wind was surging from below.

  “So you will return,” shouted the Ona over the din. “There you will fade into a lonely specter. Oh, your life will be long—unnaturally, miserably long. And in your solitude, as you watch your body putrefy and crumble beneath you, bit by bit, you will think of nothing but the fact that, like me, you failed to save your kind—that everything and everyone you once loved is dead.”

  The Ona’s marbled eyes were wild with delight. “That is my victory.”

  But Phoebe was looking past the Ona, at a gleaming black shape rising. It blasted up dust and stinging debris into her face. She squinted and clamped onto Micah with all her might. The familiar thrum made his eyes go wide.

  The Ona’s face contorted—from rage to blind fear. Her long, flowing veils flapped in the violent eddy. Tangled fins sang as they were sucked down in the draft.

  Snared. Yanked taut.

  With a howl, the Ona was ripped away from Micah.

  And into the blurred disc of an Aero-copter’s spinning blades.

  Her golden body detonated in a grisly crunch, raining an aurora of glowing, heavenly-white blood upon the black aircraft like a blanket of fresh snow.

  Itaste life draining from the creature’s eyes. Release my hands from its sizzling neck. A dead metal thing. Toss it atop the other ruined corpse.

  Wounds the creatures made in me burn, but they will heal.

  Just one left, the ring demon, then I will have my prize. I know this creature. Kaspar faced it in the Depot before…before the Dyad. It crawls away, seeks shelter, wants to escape. But there is no escaping me.