She looked back at him then, feeling hope at what he was saying, praying it was true.
“He knows,” Dane said. “Part of him, at least.”
Mira touched his arm, her eyes welling up, but she fought it off.
Dane’s hand closed around hers. “We’re gonna be okay, Mira Toombs,” he told her. “You and I.”
Mira nodded, unsure what to say, but Dane didn’t seem to mind. They stood there in silence, and as they watched the hundreds of burning pyres in front of them, the strange flames lighting everything in prismatic, shuddering color, her thoughts returned to Holt. Where was he right now? What was he feeling? Could he see the same stars that she could?
I’m still here, she thought to herself, though it was meant for him. I’m still here.
19. SKYDASH
HOLT WOKE INTO A DIZZYING array of pain he never could have imagined. As it set in, he tried to hold onto the dreams. They were of Mira, somewhere in a desert, surrounded by strange, burning colors, but try as he might, the image wouldn’t remain, it just dissolved away as he woke completely, and the pain took its place.
He looked around the tiny “cell” they’d put him in, an almost perfectly shaped cube of wood and sheet metal with a fiberglass ceiling. He’d seen these cells from the outside many times. When he and Ravan had done bounty-hunter work for the Menagerie, the Armory prison was always where they took their quarry and the irony wasn’t lost on him.
Pushing himself up was an agonizing process, where he could feel each of the sharp pains in the ribs they’d broken, and the stinging lacerations where they’d cut him. A part of him wondered just how much blood he’d lost, but the truth was, he didn’t care. Even the pain didn’t really have much of an impact anymore.
Tiberius must have been so disappointed.
The only regret he really had was Castor. The Helix was probably in one of the other cells, and if he hadn’t followed Holt here he wouldn’t be in this situation. He should have distanced himself from Castor the way he had from Ravan. At least she was okay, at least she was spared this.
Most likely they would be executed, probably in a very public way. Holt just hoped it—
Sounds made their way into the cell, not the normal ones of this place: gears turning, chains rattling, moans, the occasional yell from a guard to shut up. These were something else.
The soft thuds of fists impacting with a human body. The swoosh of something falling past, then crashes from down below, where it hit the platform.
Holt’s cell shook. There were footsteps on the roof now, light and deft, and with a sinking feeling, he knew what was happening.
“Oh no,” he moaned.
Seconds later the lock on the door burst apart as a glowing red crystal spear point punched through it in a shower of splinters. The door snapped open. A small, blond girl stared in at him, casually hanging by one hand from the cell door, unimpressed by the hundred-foot drop below.
“Masyn,” Holt started, his voice raspy and harsh. “Listen to me…”
The Helix held a finger to her lips and smiled, then leapt upward out of sight, and he heard the chains of another cell rattle as she landed on it. Castor’s, most likely. She was freeing them, and a swell of anger filled him. He had made peace with this, he was done, he could stop caring and she was ruining all of it.
His cell shook again. Masyn flipped down from the top and landed inside, her Lancet attached to her back. She moved straight for him.
“Masyn, take Castor, but leave me—” Masyn spun him around and slammed him face-first into the wall, and the pain that shot through his body cut off the rest of his complaints.
“She said you’d try and talk me out of it,” Masyn whispered in his ear. “Unfortunately for you, we have a deal, she and I, so listen up, I’m only going to say this once. I don’t give a damn about your death wish or your existential crisis or whatever it is you’re going through this week, the only thing I care about is getting my friend out of here, but to do that, I have to get you out of here, which means you are coming. Get your head around the idea, because it’s happening, and do not get in my way.”
Holt looked back at her. “You have a way with words, you know that?”
Masyn shoved him toward the door. As she did, Castor scrambled down off the roof into the interior. Holt studied him. While Castor may have gotten less severe treatment, the Menagerie hadn’t been gentle. He had two black eyes, his lip was swollen, and he held his arm strangely, bandages around the shoulder the crossbow bolt had punctured.
The Helix looked back at Holt, and instead of seeing anger or accusation, Holt saw mutual respect. They had both been through the same hell, after all.
“Holt,” Castor said.
“Castor,” Holt replied.
They stepped to the front, and Holt looked at the sheer drop under his feet, the cement and wooden floor of the Pinnacle’s central platform far below. There were two bodies there, guards, and Holt remembered the scuffle and the screams. Masyn must have knocked them down there. He could see the other cell pods too, squares just like his, up and down the tower.
“How are we doing this?” Holt asked grimly, fairly sure the answer was going to be unpleasant.
“They took Castor’s rings,” Masyn answered. “You’ll have to hold onto me, I’ll jump us to the top.”
“The top?!” Holt demanded. “Why not just drop down to the floor, with that … parachute thing you guys have?”
“Then what? Walk out the front door? How are you planning on getting off the Pinnacle?” She gave him a scornful look. “It’s all planned out, just stop talking. As long as you—”
Shouts rang out from above, and Holt saw another guard yanking his rifle loose. He heard the sounds of people running on the catwalks that circled up and down the prison. They’d been seen. Any moment now the alarm would go off, and when that happened …
Holt could sense Masyn tense, felt her begin to lean forward. Guards or not, he didn’t like this.
“Wait, wait! Can we talk about—”
“No.”
Everything in his field of vision went yellow as Masyn jumped. Holt wasn’t sure if the effect field from the rings affected whoever was close to her, or maybe just who was touching her, and right then he didn’t care. He shut his eyes as they flew through the air, then felt the impact as they slammed into another cell … and then came the sensation of slipping.
“Holt!” Masyn yelled in annoyance. “Grab on, pay attention!”
He looked and saw the edge of the cell’s roof as he began to fall. Desperately, he grabbed it, flinching at the pain. Bullets sparked all around them on the cell pod. The guards were firing.
“What are we doing about them?” Holt asked. There was no way Masyn could fight the guards and hold on to him and Castor at the same time.
“It’s taken care of,” she replied.
Then they were leaping back the way they’d come, only this time upward. As they did, Holt saw one of the guards aim, dead center on them. Holt winced …
A single gunshot echoed down from above. The guard spun and fell.
Before Holt could think more of it, they were leaping again, more bullets barely missing them. He could see what Masyn was doing: she was leap-frogging them up the side of the tower, and each time Holt had to grab onto whatever she landed on, gulp air and forget the pain, and get ready for the next leap.
Whenever one of the guards lined up on them, a bullet from above took him down.
Holt’s heart sank. The possibility that Masyn had come on her own was now out of the question, and there was only one other person who could shoot that well who would be helping. It meant she had given up everything for him, and that realization filled him with dread.
Three more jumps landed them on the highest walkway of the tower, some four or five hundred feet off the platform. Masyn collapsed in exhaustion, breathing heavy, drenched in sweat. The rings helped, but with two additional passengers, those jumps must have been grueling.
/> Castor put his hands on her, tenderly, clearly concerned …
… and a giant, blaring alarm burst to life, echoing through the tower. Floodlights flashed on up and down the structure, lighting everything. More shouts from below, more gunfire.
“Idiots! Move!” a female voice shouted from the other end of the walkway. Holt looked up and saw Ravan shouldering the long barrel sniper rifle she was carrying, just as he expected. She looked at him, but her expression was unreadable.
Holt ignored the pain in his legs and side as he lifted Masyn to her feet, got her and Castor moving.
Bullets sparked on the underside of the walkway as they ran. When they reached Ravan, she kicked open a door at the end, and Holt saw a small platform outside, hovering over the Pinnacle’s main structure, with a single metallic cable arcing downward.
Holt groaned at the sight. It was the Skydash.
“Don’t start,” Ravan told him, dropping the rifle and slipping off a pack, dumping the contents: four Dashclaws, wheeled pulleys that snapped onto the Skydash cables with a four-pronged grip for holding on. That was it, not even a harness to give the illusion of security.
Holt looked at Ravan with supreme displeasure. She looked back in pretty much the same way.
“Would it kill you to be grateful for once?” she asked.
“I didn’t ask for this!” Holt answered, feeling his anger building. It was true, he hadn’t asked for it, why couldn’t she have just left well enough alone?
“God, you’re the densest, most infuriating person I’ve ever known! If the whole point of this wasn’t to save your ass, I’d throw you over the railing.”
“Guys…” Castor said, looking downward, the alarm still blaring loud enough to be heard from every Pinnacle in the city.
“Just leave me,” he told them. “If you leave me, maybe Tiberius—”
“Will what? Forget I just broke his pet obsession out of prison?” Ravan advanced on him, hefting the Dashclaw like a club. “I swear to Zeus, Holt—”
“Guys!” Both Castor and Masyn yelled this time, and it was enough to rip their attention downward. The edges of the Armory platform, where it was covered, were swarming with Menagerie, climbing up toward them. The same thing was happening at the other Pinnacles, the Menagerie running for other Skydash lines. Gunfire lit up the platforms, and bullets whizzed through the air again.
Holt and Ravan stared at one other heatedly, then he yanked the Dashclaw out of her hands. “Let’s get it over with.” He attached the thing to the line and circled his arms up and around the first two prongs, then grabbed the second pair with his hands, locking him (to a debatable degree) into position.
He looked over the edge of the platform, studied the ground far far below, and exhaled a deep breath. This was not going to be—
“Get on with it!” Ravan’s boot sent him flying forward, and he barely grabbed hold of the Dashclaw as he fell. With a grimace, he felt the cable absorb his weight as he flew downward, the wheels on the harness whining, louder and louder. The line connected to one of the Hubs, the smaller, suspended platforms between the much bigger Crux, and it raced upward toward him.
Holt’s eyes widened as the two runners on the Hub disconnected the Dashclaw from the cable. Normally, a rider could absorb the impact when he hit, but Holt wasn’t even close to 100 percent right now.
He crashed to the metal platform and rolled right to the edge, slamming into the railing, his feet dangling. He barely managed to hold on.
The Hub rocked twice more as two guards landed next to him. They saw him, struggling to hold on, and smiled. They drew their knives.
Ravan hit the Hub and rolled into one of the guards like a boulder and sent him flying off into the air.
The second guard stared at her, shocked.
Ravan swung the Dashclaw and connected with his head. The boy flattened and didn’t move.
Ravan yanked Holt to his feet. Castor landed on the platform behind them. When Holt looked, he saw Masyn, a smile on her face, running down the cable. He shook his head. White Helix …
Bullets sparked all around them. Holt could see more Menagerie darting toward their Hub, and below, on the Crux, the large, central platform which hung above the Nonagon, he could see about half a dozen Menagerie waiting.
Masyn leapt onto the platform. “You guys are slow,” she said, ripping the Lancet loose from her back. She jumped toward the cable that led to the Crux, used the shaft of her Lancet like a Dashclaw, holding onto it with both hands and shooting downward.
Bullets streaked upward to meet her, but it was all too little, too late.
She landed on the Crux in the middle of the Menagerie. Masyn was outnumbered seven to one, but it didn’t matter.
Holt saw two Menagerie falling toward the ground almost instantly, as Masyn spun and dodged and struck out. It was impressive, but he didn’t have time to enjoy the show.
Ravan shoved him toward the next cable. He felt the pain in his ribs. “Hey!”
“If you die after all this, I’m gonna be pissed,” she told him.
Holt scowled as he slipped the Dashclaw onto the next wire and darted downward, the wheels whining again. On the Crux, Masyn was fighting off three Menagerie at once, and more were landing on it every second. It was going to be overrun soon.
Holt hit but stayed in control this time, only sliding about halfway before he got to his feet, slamming into two guards, driving them over the railing, watching them disappear.
Another Menagerie swung his rifle like a bat. Holt deflected the blow, but the impact was enough to send him reeling. Masyn spun and lashed outward, kicking the kid off the Crux, and he screamed as he fell out of sight.
Ravan landed, quickly followed by Castor. “Masyn!” she shouted, ripping her rifle loose and aiming back the way they’d come. Menagerie were sliding down the cable from the Armory, all the guards they’d left behind.
Ravan’s gun flashed. The closest kid fell. Her gun fired again. Another dropped. Another. But there were just too many.
“Masyn!”
“You’re sure about this?” Masyn asked back.
“Yes, please!” Ravan’s gun fired twice more, two more Menagerie fell from the line.
Masyn’s Lancet spun in her hands. “Which ones am I leaving again?”
Ravan pointed to three of the dozens of cables that connected to the Crux from the various Hubs and Pinnacles. “Work your way around from the Armory, it’ll give us time to set up.”
“Got it,” Masyn replied, and a crystal fired from the end of her Lancet … and, to Holt’s horror, punched straight through one of the cables holding the Crux aloft. The guards who were sliding toward them plummeted downward as the cable fell away.
Another line split apart in a shower of sparks as Masyn’s glowing red crystal sliced through it like it wasn’t there. As it did, she spun and caught her green spear point at the end of her Lancet with a loud harmonic ping. The platform shook …
“What are you doing?” Holt shouted in horror.
“I bet you can figure it out all by yourself,” Ravan replied, firing twice more, and dropping two more sliding Menagerie.
Masyn spun again, two more cables were cut, the Crux rocked, the weight starting to add up.
Holt looked at Ravan with wide eyes. She smiled back.
“I’d hold on to something,” she said, wrapping her arms around a railing. The Crux shook again, more cables split apart.
Holt desperately slid to the edge of the platform, wrapping his arms around a railing. So did Castor.
“You’re a complete psychopath,” Holt observed.
“We have to get to either the Machine Works or the Communications Pinnacle,” she told him casually as Masyn cut more cables. “And we need to make a big entrance.”
Machine Works and Communications were currently controlled by Rogan West’s rebels, and Holt saw what she intended. It still didn’t make it any more palatable. “Why don’t we just use the cables like they’re actual
ly intended?”
“Because the rebels electrified them,” she told him. “What’s the matter? Scared of heights?”
“You know I’m scared of heights!”
Ravan laughed out loud.
Two more cables cut, the Crux shook violently. Holt could hear it groan as it absorbed the weight. It was all but done now. The Menagerie, no fools themselves, had seen what was coming, and were zipping down the Skydash toward whichever Pinnacle was closest. When the Crux went, so did the entire cable system.
“Ravan!” a voice shouted from a distance, and somehow it carried over all the chaos and the blaring alarms.
Holt looked upward, toward the Command Pinnacle, and the balcony at the very top. Two figures stood there, watching the action below.
Tiberius. And Avril.
Even from this distance, Holt could feel the man’s hot gaze. Castor and Masyn looked up at Avril, and the girl stared back, unsure. Somehow, she and her White Helix brethren were on opposite sides of a strange conflict.
Holt watched Ravan hold Tiberius’s stare, and as she did, he felt a surge of guilt. It was because of him she had done this, and her life was now irrevocably changed.
“Do it,” Ravan said, her voice firm.
Masyn nodded, her Lancet spinning. The last six cables, other than the ones attaching it to the Machine Works Pinnacle, burst apart in sparks …
“I love this city,” Castor said next to Holt, eyes full of excitement.
And then Holt shut his eyes as the Crux tore loose and fell, feeling gravity try and yank him off. He held on as the entire thing arced powerfully downward, hanging by just three cables, gaining momentum and speed. The Crux was huge. When it hit, it would decimate the Machine Works platform and anyone standing on it.
But Masyn leapt forward and grabbed the nearest railing, touching her middle and ring fingers together. A new color, this time cyan, erupted in his vision, and impossibly, he felt the Crux’s momentum begin to slow as the effect from her rings enveloped it. It was stunning. Masyn was single-handedly slowing the Crux’s descent toward the Pinnacle.
Valley of Fires: A Conquered Earth Novel (The Conquered Earth Series) Page 19
