by Isaac Hooke
He lay there on the balustrade, panting and sweating, listening to the clamor of battle from the first floor below.
Filled with self-loathing, he set the sword down beside him. He lowered the satchel to the floor.
He didn't deserve to hold these implements of war.
He was just a coward after all.
"On me!" Tanner's voice drifted up from below.
Tanner. The man had been sliced in half by Brute and he'd come back from the dead whole again. There was a hero, if anyone. There was a man who could finish this, if anyone.
Briar peered over the edge of the balcony.
That giant carpet of Jeremy's dominated the scene below. It had transformed into a terrible tentacled monster about the size of a small house. It reminded Briar of the squids that were sewn onto the tapestries of this place in profusion, though this one was so tall its head nearly reached the balcony. The creature blocked the main stairs and harassed Tanner, Cap and the other two men who were still alive.
Tanner and his men couldn't just retreat, because Direwalkers hemmed them in with swords and claws from behind. The group of four had its hands full, that's for sure.
Tanner grabbed something from the satchel over his shoulder, bit down on that something, and hurled it at the carpet.
A pipe bomb.
The tentacled shape batted the bomb right back at Tanner. The explosive detonated in midair before reaching them, launching Tanner and his men across the room along with some of the Direwalkers. Tanner and Cap stumbled drunkenly to their feet. The other two men remained down.
With a score of Direwalkers at its side, the tentacled creature left its position by the stairs to bear down on Tanner.
All of a sudden Briar realized what it was he had to do with crystal clear clarity.
If he was to perform one act of courage in his life, it was this.
Finally, a chance to redeem himself. Finally, a chance to play his part. Striking from the shadows like he was always meant to do.
He lifted the heavy satchel filled with pipe bombs.
Movement on the far end of the balcony drew his eye, and Briar started.
Apparently he'd been seen, because a Direwalker had rounded the bend and was heading straight for him, its mouth open in a long-toothed snarl.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"Wait, I'm one of you," Briar said, but then realized he only incriminated himself by talking because he didn't have the needle-length canines.
He dropped the satchel and groped the floor for the fire sword, not taking his eyes from the Direwalker. His mind blanked. He found the sword, but couldn't remember how to draw vitra, not from the blade, nor the rings, nor even from his own uncollared body. He just stared at the approaching Direwalker.
It crouched low, coming at him on all fours like a cat stalking a mouse.
Lightning. I have lightning.
But he couldn't find it.
Briar fumbled inside his coat, mindlessly pulling out a clove of garlic basted in cinnamon he'd stowed there. He held it up, but the Direwalker seemed undeterred.
Briar threw the cinnamon garlic at the Direwalker. The clove struck the thing in the face.
The garlic bounced away, leaving a smoldering scar where it touched. The Direwalker hissed in pain.
Can't believe that actually worked, Briar thought.
The realization of the Direwalker's mortality snapped him out of his daze, and he found the illusive vitra. The spark was buried deep in the back of his mind, and time seemed to slow as he fanned that spark.
Briar watched in fascination as the muscles of the Direwalker bunched in its neck and arms at a snail's pace. Its legs bobbed backward, then forward again, propelling the Direwalker off the ground in a slow-motion leap.
The spark in Briar's mind expanded, flaring down his neck, through his torso and down his limbs to the extremities of his body. It pulsed through him, running up against the barrier of his flesh, waiting for the floodgates to open.
Briar obliged those floodgates.
Time snapped back with a vengeance as a lightning bolt tore through his upraised palm. The brightness was blinding, the thunderclap deafening.
The recoil sent Briar sprawling.
He clambered to his feet, blinking away the treelike afterimage of the lightning bolt from his eyes. His hearing had dulled, replaced by a high-pitched ringing.
He looked for the Direwalker but found only a large pile of dust on the floor beside him.
The thing had disintegrated.
Inside Briar, the spark was utterly spent. He'd made an amateur's mistake, wasting all his charge on a single opponent.
Ah well, he still had ten lightning rings, and each of those was fully charged. And he still had the fire sword. He picked up the blade and felt vitra calling to him, ready to obey his every whim.
Now if only the whoremongering weapon were lighter.
He sheathed the ponderous blade and glanced at the Direwalker's dust once more. On an impulse, he ground his heel into the remains.
"That's what you get for messing with Briar the Direwalker slayer." His voice sounded distant because of the ringing in his ears, but he didn't care too much about that. No injury could have lessened the elation he felt.
He wasn't a coward after all.
He would play his part in this.
He would make Cora proud.
He lifted the bomb-laden satchel and brought it to the balcony's rim.
***
Tanner and Cap were the only two still left standing, and they fought for their lives against ten Direwalkers.
The Living Carpet hung back. It wanted to let the Direwalkers soften him and Cap up, apparently.
A flash and a thunderclap came from one of the balconies upstairs. Tanner hadn't thought anyone else from his group had survived. Maybe it was someone from Al's team. He didn't have time to ponder it now—three sword-wielding Direwalkers came right at him.
Tanner released flames, slashed, diced, stabbed and slashed again. He moved almost mechanically, feeling dead tired. That last explosion had nearly knocked the life from him, and strength was taking a long time to flow back into his veins.
From the corner of his eyes he saw something fall from the balcony just above the Living Carpet. A stream of fire followed.
Tanner realized what was happening too late.
Moving with gol speed, he pulled Cap behind a pillar as the explosion tore through the hall. A wave of flame roared past on either side, and Tanner felt the blistering heat. The blackened bodies of Direwalkers bounced from the far wall. Cap became a dead weight in his arms, dragging Tanner downward.
When the flames subsided he glanced at Cap. The man's eyes were closed, and though he was still breathing, the right half of his face was severely burned. Tanner had been too slow, then. He lowered Cap to the marble and searched Cap's satchel and his own for healing shards. There were none left. Tanner had given them all away.
He sighed. "Sorry Cap."
The unconscious man gave no sign he heard.
Tanner peered past the pillar.
There was a crater in the floor where the Living Carpet had been. Pieces of the carpet itself were strewn across the reception hall, some of them still burning. Tables and other furniture had been blasted aside and lay piled against the walls alongside blackened bodies.
The Carpet was gone, and there were no more Direwalkers left to fight.
Tanner slumped against the pillar. He'd survived. But he'd lost all his men.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. They were supposed to make it to Jeremy's bedchamber before men started dying. They'd trusted Tanner with their lives, trusted that he wouldn't let them die for nothing. And he'd failed them.
Because now there was no chance to complete the plan. A single man couldn't overpower One alone.
But he wasn't alone.
Tanner glanced at the balcony where the bomb had dropped. To his amazement he saw Briar standing there. The man saluted.
Tanner felt his jaw drop. "Well I'll be hoodwinked..."
Loud, bulky footsteps filled the reception hall. Briar immediately ducked out of sight.
On the rightmost branch of the main stairs, a massive shape lumbered down from the second floor. The marble cracked and chipped beneath its weight.
The towering Direwalker halted on the platform that separated the upper run of stairs from the lower. It flexed its four arms, cracked the muscles of its neck, and then drew its four scimitars all at the same time.
Tanner felt hatred rising from a wellspring deep inside him. Hatred, anger, and outrage. The emotions filled him with a surge of renewed energy.
Ari's killer had arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ari flickered into existence inside an unfinished basement. In the floor beside her, wide marble steps led away into darkness—to the sewers, judging from the smell. There was a tracker here, the metallic sphere flashing blue beside the stairs. This was the closest Ari and Hoodwink could come to Jeremy's mansion, because One had the place shielded, according to the children.
She could hear fighting outside. The clash of steel. The clap of thunder. The roar of flames.
The screams of death.
Hoodwink appeared at her side. He wore his usual Inside outfit—red boots, black pants, a nobleman's green tunic.
"This way!" he said.
She sprinted up the stairs with her father to the front door of the house. She dashed outside, crossed the courtyard, and hurried onto the street.
The night was lit up with flame and lightning. Strung out in front of the gates to Jeremy's mansion, several groups of uncollared men and women fought with fire swords, dealing death to the Direwalkers. The snowpack was trampled to slush, and broken bodies were scattered everywhere, human and Direwalker alike. The overwhelmed defenders were doing their best to hold off the besiegers, but unfortunately more Direwalkers, clustered in groups of ten to twenty, joined the fray all the time. It seemed that every Direwalker in the city was converging here. Oddly enough, no Direwalkers emerged from Jeremy's estate itself.
Ari and Hoodwink drove a wedge through the enemy ranks from the side, making sure their swords glowed brightly so that the defenders would recognize them. Fire and lightning erupted just ahead, showering Ari in Direwalker gore.
Finally she found herself at the forefront of the defenders, beside three old men, the first clad in a gray cloak, the second a green cloak, and the third in the rags of a pauper.
That last man was Jacob. He held a fire sword in one hand, and the palm of his other was raised with the fingers spread. She realized he was on the verge of striking her down.
But then his features melted in recognition.
"Ari!" Jacob dashed forward, and Gray-cloak and Green-cloak came with him, providing cover. For a moment she thought he was going to try to give her a hug. A difficult task, given that both of them held swords. "Tanner said you were dead!" His breath fogged in the cold.
"As Mark Twain once said, the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated." She positioned herself beside him so that she had a clear view of the attackers. Doing so allowed Jacob to see Hoodwink.
"You!" Jacob lifted the sword to Hoodwink's belly. Her father raised his hands carefully. "A lot of nerve you have showing up here, after what you did."
Ari's free hand shot out, and she gripped the flat of Jacob's red-hot sword, ignoring the searing pain that shot through her palm. "He's on our side, Jacob. No matter what you think he did."
"He gave the Dwarf to Jeremy," Jacob spat. "Gave the mayor the ability to create new Direwalkers."
Direwalker body parts rained down on her as Gray-cloak let loose a particularly vicious strike.
"Whatever he did," Ari said. "He did for me. He's on our side." She pushed the searing blade down. It wasn't an easy task, because Jacob resisted the entire way—though he was an old man, the sword's vitra gave him strength. Smoke began to waft from Ari's seared palm. She ignored the pain using a gol trick. "Jacob!"
There was a blur of motion and instantly Jacob's blade smashed down.
Hoodwink had intervened. "You were hurting her." His voice wasn't friendly, and there was a glint in her father's eyes that she hadn't seen before.
Jacob stepped back defensively, withdrawing the blade. "I never told her to grab the hot steel."
"Dad, it's all right." Ari said. Green-cloak exploded another Direwalker beside them, plastering Hoodwink in blood. Her father made a grim figure standing there in the night, all sheathed in gore, looking daggers at Jacob.
Hoodwink's expression didn't soften as he took his place beside Ari.
"Any word from Tanner?" Ari asked Jacob.
"Other than giving the command to defend the gates, not a thing!" Jacob launched flames and seared a Direwalker that ran right at him. "We're the only ones keeping the Direwalkers from overrunning Jeremy's mansion. They've been coming from across the city. An endless tide of them. Just endless. I don't know what Tanner's doing in there, but he's sure taking his time about it! What are your orders?"
That's right. She was Leader. "Hoodwink and I are going in. We'll need ten of your best men. The rest of you hold your position. Don't let those Direwalkers into the estate at all costs. The last thing we need is an attack from behind."
"We will hold." Jacob clasped her shoulder. "Ari, it's good to have you back. Sorry about the hand. Good luck."
She nodded. "You too."
Jacob hurried among his men, touching a select few as he went, shouting something and pointing at Ari. He touched Gray-cloak. Green-cloak. A younger man.
Ari considered helping the defenders while she waited, but she chose to retreat a safe distance behind the ranks instead. She no longer felt the violent hatred for the gols she once had. How could she, after where she had been, and the lessons she'd learned? She didn't want to cause unnecessary hurt anymore. Not even to gols. Even though she knew the Direwalkers must all eventually die.
Ari noticed something. Some of the Direwalkers dropped dead before ever reaching the front ranks of the defenders, though there were no bowmen among Jacob's men. It wasn't much, definitely not enough to flip the odds in their favor, because there were always more Direwalkers to replace those that fell, but it was something.
Hoodwink noticed the dropping Direwalkers too, and he said, "Looks like the children's changes to the gol mind disease are slowly working through the system. All that's left is for us to cut-out One."
In moments Ari had her ten men. Hoodwink gave Jacob one last evil glance, then he and Ari led the men into the courtyard of Jeremy's estate.
There had been fighting here too. Dead humans and Direwalkers lay on the shoveled path beneath the pines. That meant the defenders had fallen back at some point, but somehow they'd managed to fight their way out past the front gates once more. Either that, or they'd been attacked from behind by Direwalkers from the mansion, and routed the enemy. Well done, Jacob.
She noticed the entire facade of the mansion had been restored, as had the fountain just in front. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that.
She dashed into the marble foyer of the house with her men. The air smelled of burned flesh, spilled blood, and voided bowels. Indoor spaces always amplified stenches, unfortunately.
As she neared the reception hall, charred and maimed bodies began to dot the floor. Direwalkers, mostly. A few humans. Or pieces of them, anyway. They'd been hurled from the hall in a manner that suggested an explosion.
She heard the clang of swords from the reception hall itself. It sounded like several fighters had joined an intense melee.
"Be ready!" Ari called over her shoulder to the men, and she hurried into the reception hall. A massive crater had been blown into the marble floor. The red carpet, or what was left of it, was dispersed in tatters across the hall.
Her gaze was drawn to the far side of the room, to the source of the clanging swords. What she had thought was a whole cadre of fighters proved to be just two.
Her archenemy Brute was fighting someone who seemed small in comparison. A man about two heads shorter, holding a red-hot sword. A man who could barely defend against the four blades that kept coming in at him.
A man who was losing.
Her heart very nearly stopped.
Tanner!
She broke away from the men.
"Ari no!" Hoodwink said.
But she was already leaping across the crater toward Tanner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ari dove in beside Tanner without regard to her own safety and immediately occupied Brute's two rightmost blades. Tanner shot her a glance. Concentrating on the battle, she didn't return his gaze, but from the corner of her eye a part of her was aware as Tanner faltered.
He must have known that he couldn't afford to ease off, not against a foe such as this. Pausing like that almost cost him his life—Brute's swords dove in at his neck.
But Ari was there to parry the blows.
Tanner fell back. The shock of seeing her alive must have been too much. Of course he couldn't fight. She would have reacted the same way.
Ari faced those four scimitars with her sole blade, and it took all her concentration to fend the Direwalker off. It wasn't easy. Not at all. A blade came in at her neck. She parried it and immediately forced her weapon down to block another stab. The third and fourth blades came in simultaneously, from two opposite sides. She blocked one while at the same time sidestepping the other.
The first two blades were coming in again, from the top and bottom like pincers. She had to leap back entirely to avoid those. The leftmost blade was already making a lunge—
Tanner abruptly reengaged, far sooner than she thought he would. He occupied Brute's left-hand side, saying nothing. Ari didn't say a word, either. She didn't trust that she could say anything, not without tears of emotion flaring up to blind her.
Brute snarled, hissing at them from a place of hatred, those long canines stabbing the air.
