The Severed Tower

by J. Barton Mitchell

  Holt recognized what they must be instantly: the spear points at the end of a Lancet, fired by lookouts. Avril yelled for Castor at the front to stop, and the entire line halted. She looked slightly perplexed.

  Ahead, the grassy hills of rock yielded to reddish bluffs and ridges. A river cut straight through one of the rocky mesas, into a canyon of high walls. It was from the top of either end of the canyon entrance that the shots had gone up. Looking now, Holt couldn’t see anyone standing there. Not that that was surprising. He studied the flatlands around him warily, wondering just how many hidden eyes were out there.

  “What is it?” Mira asked.

  “Sanctum advance guard. They know we have the Assembly with us. They’re alarmed, and I don’t blame them.” The statement implied a communication in those fired crystals, probably tied to the colors they shot up, Holt guessed.

  Avril pulled her Lancet from her back and called for Castor again. When he looked back, she held up two fingers. He nodded, then unstrapped his own weapon. She fired the green end of her Lancet into the air with the same jarring, harmonic ping. The crystal projectile streaked upward like a missile—and was quickly followed by both of Castor’s spear points, both glowing in red light.

  “You’re telling them everything’s okay?” Mira asked.

  “I’m telling them we have enemies with us, entering Sanctum peacefully,” Avril replied. Whether she meant Ambassador or Mira and himself, Holt wasn’t sure.

  “How do they know you’re not the walker’s prisoner, or that it’s using you?”

  “We have a different signal for that.”

  Of course they did, Holt thought.

  Everyone waited, seconds seemed like minutes, and then there was another volley from the distance. Three new flickering streams of color shot into the air. All of them were green. The sight seemed to relax Avril, and she recalled her spear point, whizzing through the air and connecting with the end of her Lancet in a pulse. Castor did the same.

  “Keep Ambassador slow and calm, if you can,” Holt whispered to Zoey as they started marching again. “No sudden movements. Okay?”

  Zoey nodded weakly. “Okay. I’ll try.” Holt and Mira shared a nervous look.

  They entered the canyon, and the walls rose up high, stretching a hundred feet or more on either side. In the dark, the colorful walls of painted rock were muted but still visible.

  The group wound their way through the rocky gorge, on either side of its small river, for almost a mile without any sign that indicated there were others here. There weren’t even tracks on the ground, Holt noted. The White Helix were very good at hiding their presence.

  Around the next bend he finally saw what he’d been waiting for. Signs of life—and of strategic planning. The ground was covered in boulders, clearly broken loose from the walls on either side of them. It was a smart decision. The boulders and the river made it so any group, even the Assembly, would have to divide and stagger their approach to avoid the impediments, making them easier targets. Six White Helix guards stood behind the field of rubble, waiting for them.

  They zigzagged through the debris field until they finally reached the guards, Lancets drawn, held at the ready, staring warily at Ambassador. The machine rumbled uncertainly.

  “Where is everyone?” Avril asked. Clearly, she expected more of a welcoming party. But the guards just kept staring at the big silver walker. “Roderick,” Avril said with more emphasis, and one of the guards, the one in front of the others, looked at her.

  When he did his look was ominous. “Gideon’s called a Gathering, Avril. You … should be there. Masyn already went ahead.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Just … come with us.” Roderick forced himself to look away from the silver walker and start moving. Everyone followed, and Holt could tell Avril was worried. Something was wrong.

  They moved through the canyon, following the river around another bend—and Holt’s eyes widened at what was there. So did Mira’s. Even Zoey, clinging to his back weakly, perked up for a moment. “Wow,” she whispered.

  Ahead, the canyon rolled northward in a near-straight line, and resting along its length was Sanctum. It was nothing like Holt expected. Tents of all sizes and colors, made of a mashup of fabric and materials—leather, bright silks, cotton, parachutes, flags, clothing, some of them even used wood or metal to create walls—stretched into the distance. They weren’t just on the canyon floor, the walls of the gorge were lined with smaller, brightly colored tents, somehow attached up and down the rocky embankments, hundreds of them, stretching out of sight. There were no ladders or bridges between the tents, and Holt figured they weren’t needed. The White Helix could probably leap from the canyon floor all the way to the top if they wanted.

  In the dark, the glowing tents and structures made a field of glimmering amber all along the canyon walls, and reflecting in the river as it flowed past, making it a wavering strip of light that drifted southward. It was beautiful, Holt thought, but it looked more like a proper city than a caravan. How did they move all this?

  Holt felt Mira’s hand touch his—but when he reached to take it, it disappeared, as if she reached out instinctively at the amazing sight, and then thought better of it. Holt sighed, but he didn’t look at her. It was what it was.

  The group kept walking, Ambassador’s footfalls echoing in the canyon, and as they moved, Holt noticed something else. The colored, glowing tents were all empty. There was no one around but the six guards who had been on sentry duty. He understood why Avril had been confused now. With this many tents, the place should be flooded with people.

  The answer became apparent after another hundred feet of winding through the glowing tent city, where the canyon widened into a rounded, egglike shape. There were no tents there, but Holt could see that they continued on the other side of the clearing. It had been purposefully kept open, and it was obvious why.

  It was a meeting place. A crowd had gathered, though “crowd” was an understatement. The sheer numbers of them almost made Holt trip. They stood on the rocky floor where the river raced past, or hung from the walls, each flanked by two points of color from their Lancets—red, green or blue—and the combined light was even brighter than the tents. One or two thousand of them, if Holt had to guess, and it was stunning to look at.

  “My God,” Mira said beside him.

  “Did you have any idea?” Holt asked.

  “No.” She hadn’t guessed the White Helix had such numbers. The realization was sobering. Simply imagining the skill Holt had already seen Avril and her Arc display, and magnifying it to the potential in front of him, it equaled an army of enormous size. Yet here it was in the Strange Lands, alone and isolated. Holt wondered again what the point of it all was.

  The Gathering didn’t seem all that aware of their group, they were circled around something, peering down at it or straining to see over each other on the ground. Whatever it was, it was enough to hold their attention.

  At least until the sound of Ambassador’s heavy footfalls reached them. The mass of kids, a sea of black and gray and glowing points of color, turned and stared, watching as a five-legged Assembly walker strode through their camp, green laser light streaming from it around a small child. The reaction was similar to that of the advance guards. Lancets yanked from their backs, some leaped into the air in flashes of yellow to claim elevated positions.

  Ambassador rumbled. Mira looked at Holt. All it would take was one Lancet to fire, and thousands more would follow.

  “Hold!” a voice yelled. Something was odd about the voice. It was old for starters, from a man probably in his seventies. That was unusual enough, but there was something else. It was accented. It sounded … Asian. At the voice, the White Helix hesitated and a stillness swept through their ranks. They were clearly used to obeying it.

  “The invader is not to be harmed,” the voice commanded, the source still unseen. “It is not a guest, but it does not come as an enemy. At least not today
. It will pass.”

  Ahead the crowd parted—and Holt saw what the Helix had been interested in. On the ground, in the center of the clearing, spanning the river, was a simple, flat wooden bridge, barely wide enough to hold one person. Which was good, because there was only one person on it. Sitting cross-legged on a rug, the river flowing past below. Four White Helix guards stood on either side, holding two identical flags. Vertical, and each black with a white symbol on the front: the double helix that Holt had seen over and over again since encountering these strange people.

  Next to the bridge was something very out of place: a telephone booth. The kind you would see in the streets of any city ruin, but this one was different. Long metal poles were attached to either side, lengthwise, as if it were meant to be tipped over and carried; and the outside of it was scrawled with shades of black and gray and dozens of double helix symbols, but that wasn’t the strangest thing. The telephone booth’s glass doors were closed, and inside it, visible through them, was a swirling mass of sparkling, gray energy, like the contained swell of a tempest. Holt knew what it must be, and he frowned. An artifact. A major one, certainly. And probably powerful.

  In front of that phone booth stood a group of people decidedly out of place. Two dozen strong, each hefting combat rifles, colorful tattoos on their right wrists, all standing protectively around a central figure that stood unintimidated in spite of being vastly outnumbered. Black hair trailed like an obsidian waterfall down her back.

  She turned, and when she did, her eyes found Holt. He smiled in spite of himself, relieved. Ravan had made it after all.

  But not everyone was as happy. Avril glared at the Menagerie, standing before the bridge that had some sort of ceremonial meaning. Emotions flashed across her face—anger, trepidation, and shame. Holt understood. This was probably a moment Avril had never imagined coming, but here it was. The Menagerie, the followers of her father, had come for her. After all this time.

  A figure leaped in a flash of yellow and landed protectively next to Avril. Holt didn’t have to look to see it was Dane.

  “Greetings, Avril,” the voice echoed through the air again, and the man on the bridge slowly but gracefully rose to his feet. He wore the same black-and-gray outfit as his followers, carried the same Lancet. Even from this distance, Holt could see he was old, but he held himself with a bearing that was still powerful. There was only one person it could be. “How do you return?” Gideon asked.

  It took a moment for Avril to even realize she was being addressed, so intense was her stare on Ravan, but finally she answered. “Stronger, Master.” Her words were laced with bitterness, and she looked forward with stern emotion.

  Holt and Mira jumped as the thousands of figures around them all shouted one word in unison that shook the canyon walls. “Strength!”

  Gideon let the sound of his disciples’ voices fade away, and then smiled with a strange mix of sadness and resolution. “Then welcome. You are honored. And … we were just speaking of you.”

  36. GIDEON

  ZOEY PEERED OVER HOLT’S SHOULDER through the green laser light. Her head throbbed, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Ambassador kept the pain at bay, but he couldn’t stop it entirely. They were too far inside the Strange Lands now. But she could be strong. She had to.

  There were so many emotions flying around in front of her that she could barely make sense of them. From Holt she felt a confused mix of relief and apprehension, as he stared across the way at Ravan. It was funny, she sensed almost the same thing from both her and Mira. It was a strange triangle that had formed between them. None of them seemed able to either completely love or hate any of the others.

  “How can you do this? How can you make deals with them?” Dane shouted, pointing to Ravan and the Menagerie. Heated anger poured from him, and bits of fear, too. He was scared of losing Avril, Zoey sensed, and it only fed his outburst. “You can’t trust them!”

  “Can I not?” the old man asked, and from him, Zoey sensed nothing. He was blank to her. Like the Librarian, Gideon must have a strong grip on his emotions and thoughts. His focus was razor sharp. “The world is a reflection of ourselves, Dane. The untrustworthy are, by their nature, untrusting. But here the Menagerie are. They have braved a dangerous land they do not understand. They bear their most valuable possession. Outnumbered. Defenseless. This implies … a great deal of trust.”

  “Would it be too much for me to know,” Avril’s voice was hoarse, “what I’m being traded away for like some trophy?” Avril’s emotions bled off her unchecked, a thick mix of anger and pain. She felt betrayed, Zoey could tell. Betrayed by Gideon, someone she trusted. And there was fear, too. Zoey saw flashes, remnants from Avril’s memories. Heat waves rising from some desolate landscape. A massive city built between huge, rusted metal spires that spat giant flames into the air. Wherever this place was, it was one she hated. A place she had run from, and Avril would rather die than go back there.

  “If I said you were being ‘traded’ for a grain of salt, would that change anything?” Gideon asked her back. “Would such insult give you reason to dishonor your vows?”

  Avril looked down at the admonishment. “No. Master.” The words were difficult to say but she believed them.

  Gideon turned to Ravan now, but his gaze seemed to drift slightly in the wrong direction. Zoey couldn’t tell why. “Show her.”

  At the words, Ravan nodded to one of her men. Nearby lay the heavy wooden crate the Menagerie had carried all this way. A pirate nearby drew a key from a pocket and slipped it into each of the crate’s three locks, snapping them open one at a time.

  When he opened the case, a collective gasp filled the air from the thousands of White Helix.

  Inside was a large, long, black box, with two heavy doors, side-by-side, that served as its lid. It was painted with faded colors of red, green, and gold leaf that twisted around its edges. A faded white rabbit was on one end, wearing a gray top hat and grinning evilly, holding a wand that shot sparks in an arc of old, cracked, silver paint. Large, flamboyant letters spelled out a flowing script of words:

  THE MYSTERIOUS, MAGNIFICENT MOLOTOV—PREPARE FOR AMAZEMENT!

  In spite of the pain in her head, Zoey perked up at the sight of the strange, wondrous box. It was beautiful in its own way. It reminded her of the Oracle, somehow, the faded and ornately decorated fortune-telling machine from Midnight City. They both looked like they could have come from the same old circus.

  Silence hung for a few seconds. Then, from somewhere, a cheer went up, and it was echoed all throughout the canyon. Colorful plumes of sparks burst into the air as the White Helix thumped their Lancets to the rhythm of a single, repeated word.

  “Strength! Strength!” they chanted, over and over. “Strength! Strength! Strength!”

  “Oh, my … God,” Mira breathed, as the chant continued.

  Holt looked at her. “You know what that is?”

  “The Reflection Box.” Mira whispered in awe. “It’s a major artifact.”

  Zoey wanted to know what the thing did, what could cause such a jubilant reaction from the Helix. Or, at least, from most. Dane’s and Avril’s reactions were not so enthralled. The girl’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Dane stared at her, at a loss for words, and she felt the fear inside him overpower the anger from before. Whatever the box was, it was apparently worth the trade.

  “Now do you see?” Gideon asked. As he spoke, the chanting died down. “Time is a shuffling of events. Cycles upon cycles. Each with a beginning and an end.” The old man paused and looked at the thousands of youths surrounding him. “There are nine keystones. What is the third?”

  Zoey flinched as the Helix all shouted as one again, filling the canyon with their voices. “The Tower’s will is hard!”

  “The Tower’s will is hard,” Gideon repeated, looking back at Avril. “And we all, each of us, bear it the best we can. You may take the worst of it, Avril Marseilles, but make no mistake, we all share in it with you. You make us stronger.
”

  But Avril wasn’t flattered. She stared at her teacher, and Zoey could feel the hopelessness starting to overtake her. “How do you know it’s real? How do you know it isn’t just some look-alike?”

  Gideon turned slightly toward Ravan. The pirate just shrugged. “Thing’s yours now, do what you want with it.”

  Gideon spoke some words Zoey couldn’t hear, and one of the Helix near him unslung his Lancet. He grabbed the glowing, green spear point on one of its ends by the brass casing and twisted. There was a spark as the glowing crystal disconnected.

  Another Helix, a small redheaded girl, bent down and gingerly opened both ends of the mysterious black box. Zoey could see it was lined with soft red-felt cushions and nothing else.

  The first Helix, the boy, placed the glowing, humming spear point into one end of the box and shut the first lid. The girl shut the other, letting the white rabbit rest back in its original position. Both of them quickly moved away, and a hushed anticipation filled the canyon.

  The black box sat unassumingly on the ground. At least for a second. Then it was as if what little light there was in the canyon all drained just a little bit—before the box shook violently and flashed. A loud boom, like a thunderclap, rocked the ground, and Zoey felt Holt jump under her.

  When the sound faded, the two same Helix, with trepidation, opened the double doors and reached inside. They each lifted out the exact same thing.

  A green, crystalline spear point for a Lancet. Where there had been one inside the box before, now there were two.

  Shocked intakes of breath came from the White Helix. They stared in silence at the two glowing spear points. Then they erupted into cheers again. Sparks of color flashed everywhere. “Strength! Strength! Strength! Strength!” they chanted once more.

  Zoey felt despair wash out from Avril. The box, whatever it was, apparently was the real thing.

  “You are honor-bound to serve me.” Gideon started walking toward Avril, and as he spoke the chanting died down once more. “This is how you will do it. It is not what you wanted or intended. In fact, it is the opposite. But, the Tower’s will is hard.”