by Isaac Hooke
Hoodwink exchanged a one-eyed glance with Jacob, and the two of them retreated.
"Get back, Jacob. I'm going to cause a little more trouble for our persistent friends." While Jacob withdrew, Hoodwink wiped the blood from his eye and forced the lid open, blinking convulsively through the pain until he could see properly. The flesh-wound in his brow seemed to have congealed at least, so more of that stinging blood wouldn't blind him.
He backed away, repeatedly jabbing his hot sword into the ceiling as he went.
Hoodwink caused a large section of the roof to cave in. Bricks competed with frozen dirt and mortar to fill up the tunnel. A cloud of dust cloaked the immediate vicinity.
Hoodwink coughed, and he heard similar hacking beside him. He saw the diffuse blur of a torch through the murk, the motes of dust descending in a steady, glittering rain in front of it. Jacob.
"Hoodwink?" As Jacob neared, Hoodwink saw that the old man's face was scabbarded in a layer of grime.
"I'm here, I'm here." Hoodwink stared at the wall of rubble as the dust cleared. "Just wish we could've held out a bit longer. For anyone else out there."
Jacob patted Hoodwink on the back. "If your man Tanner is with them, they'll find a way." He pointed at the refugees crowding out the tunnel. "You saved their lives. That's something to be proud of. And you've ensured the safety of the Dwarf, and the Boxes. You did right. I didn't think much of you when I first saw you. Indeed, I thought you were a stuck-up fool. But I understand now why you're legendary among the New Users. You've more than lived up to your legend. More."
Hoodwink forced a smile. He should've been glowing, he supposed. But truth be told, those words bothered him to the core.
Hoodwink and his companions made their way through the sewers behind the packed, stinking mass of humanity. The cries of children broke the air alongside the weeping of widows and the moans of the injured. Thankfully the tunnel widened so that the refugees could fan out a little.
"Where should we go?" refugees often asked along the way. "We might wander for hours through these sewers."
"Make your way to the other outlets," Jacob would say. "Or the manholes. That's the best advice I can give."
Hoodwink pulled Jacob aside after a few more of these questions, and asked him, "Can't we just take them to the New User headquarters? That's where you're going, isn't it?"
"The headquarters won't hold them all," Jacob said.
"What about a few of them?"
"Hoodwink, believe me when I tell you, the headquarters are small. Tiny. No bigger than this tunnel. It's better if the refugees make their own way out of here."
In time, the sewer branched into four passageways of equal size. Refugees crowded each branch equally, apparently trusting their lives to a random choice. Hoodwink overlaid a map of the sewer system atop his vision, and he saw that there were outlets at the end of each branch, some farther away than others, but outlets nonetheless. As long as the refugees kept to one of the four main passages, they would eventually find an exit. Hopefully they didn't find themselves stepping into the waiting arms of Direwalkers.
"We take the right branch," Jacob said.
Soon, Jacob's small group came upon a bunch of refugees crowded beside a ladder.
"Make way," Hoodwink said. "Make way."
He shoved through the throng. The ladder led up a cylindrical tunnel to a manhole. Two youths were at the top of the ladder, trying to force the cover open. There'd be a decade's worth of snowpack above the manhole—nothing his sword couldn't handle.
Hoodwink checked his map. This street was in Luckdown District, quite a ways from the Den. Should be safe.
"Come down!" he said, and the two youths slid down the ladder.
Hoodwink climbed to the top and jabbed his fire sword through the bronze manhole, right to the hilt. He made the blade red-hot, and carved a circle. The metal fell in, snowpack and all, and he slid aside, shouting a warning as the cover clanged past.
Bright sunlight poured down.
He peered over the rim of snowpack. The street was deserted. Good enough.
He slid back down. "It's clear!"
The refugees climbed to freedom, one by one.
"We could exit here, too," Hoodwink told Jacob.
Jacob shook his head. "I have to return to the New User Headquarters. But you can go if you like, Hoodwink. You've done your part."
"I think I'll stay a while longer, I will."
Jacob led them on. He knew these sewers well it seemed, and he took the different branches without hesitation, slowly moving away from any outlets.
"I've lived under the city for nearly ten years," Jacob said, by way of explanation. "Since Ari recruited me, back when I was fourteen years old."
"That's a long time to live in a sewer," Hoodwink said.
Jacob shrugged. "No one ever said the life of a New User was luxurious."
Hoodwink opened up a few more manholes for other isolated groups of refugees along the way, and soon only Jacob and his small band remained in this set of tunnels. Briar had attached himself to the group somewhere along the way, Hoodwink noticed. The man had actually stayed through it all, despite the many chances he'd had to flee into the streets above. Hoodwink supposed his brother-in-law felt safe around him. Or maybe he remained out of some ill-placed sense of loyalty. Unwise, Briar.
Hoodwink smiled sadly. Ah Cora, wish you were here. I would have loved to show you Ari again. And at least you wouldn't have judged me for what I am about to do. You would have understood. Not like these men.
He remembered her last words.
Destroy everything. But bring her back.
He shut his eyes, and when he opened them again he resolutely shoved his way forward to grab the chain that bound the Dwarf to Jacob.
He drew his fire sword.
"Hoodwink!" Jacob said. "What is the meaning of this?"
Hoodwink chopped down with the sword and cleaved the chain in two. He caught the severed end and pulled the Dwarf to his side.
Hoodwink backed away from the others, who were looking at him with surprise. He kept his sword pointed at them all.
"Why?" Jacob said.
That word jabbed worse than any sword could. He could hear the disappointment in the old man's voice, the let-down at having his hero betray him.
"I've my reasons," Hoodwink said. The Dwarf was smirking proudly beside him. "Tell your men not to make any sudden moves. I know you've all used up your charge. But this sword, it never runs out." He flared the blade to prove his point. His eyes fell upon the two swordsmen who were part of the escort, hard men who'd already drawn their own weapons. "Put them down. As you value your lives."
"Do it," Jacob told the swordsmen. "It's not worth it. We don't need the Dwarf anyway."
The swordsmen sheathed their blades. Good enough.
"Don't try to follow me." The entire group remained still while Hoodwink retreated. When he reached the manhole tunnel they'd just passed, he boosted the Dwarf onto the ladder and climbed up after the gol. He kept looking down, expecting Jacob's men to appear at the bottom. No one came, but he released a stream of flame anyway, as a warning shot, and it melted the frozen sewage below into a stinky puddle.
"I suppose I should thank you for rescuing me," the Dwarf said, above him.
Hoodwink didn't answer. At the top, the Dwarf made room, allowing Hoodwink to position himself alongside. He cut through the manhole and the snowpack beyond, let the cover clatter down, then climbed outside and hauled the Dwarf up beside him.
Jeremy's estate loomed at the end of the street. Hoodwink saw the butchered bodies of the two hundred Denizens Cap and Jacob had sent this way. Those uncollared bodies reddened the snowpack, intermingled with the charred and more numerous bodies of Direwalkers.
Beyond a wide gate, Hoodwink saw Jeremy's mansion, and the bomb damage Tanner had told him about. It was like a giant mouth had taken a nasty bite out of the mansion's facade.
Hoodwink advanced, yanking hard on the
chain, forcing the Dwarf to stumble over the bodies after him.
"Wait," the Dwarf said. "Where are we going?"
Hoodwink didn't slow. "We've an appointment with the mayor, we do."
90
Tanner fought at the heart of the street battle in the Black Den.
He'd sent himself back Inside, and given out twenty lightning rings and four fire swords. The defenders had quickly learned how to use them. He'd kept one fire sword for himself, and given one each to Calico Cap and Al Dooran, who fought beside him. Al was surprisingly adept with the fire blade, and he hacked down Direwalkers and threw flame like one born to it. Cap had a little more trouble controlling the flames, but he was an expert fighter. Maybe as good as Tanner, even. Not that skill mattered much in a fight like this. Hack, stab, release flame, stab again. There was no room for fancy swordplay or deft footwork, just butchery as the ranks bore down upon them.
Those with the rings had long since exhausted their charges. As for the remaining two fire swords, he'd lost sight of the men who had them, and he supposed they were dead.
The long line of defenders had contracted into small, sporadic circles. Tanner belonged to the biggest circle—twenty men with ordinary swords fighting alongside the three with swords of flame. The attack was ceaseless, endless. The Direwalkers kept rushing through the gap in the wall. Rocks kept plummeting from the sky. And though Tanner's group inflicted terrible damage, the defenders were slowly falling. Twenty men became nineteen. Eighteen. The numbers were simply against them.
The defenders had held out long enough. It was time to retreat for the sewage outlet. The Direwalkers had breached the line long ago, and those refugees who hadn't escaped by now were probably dead.
"Retreat!" Tanner called.
Vitra flowed through his veins, empowering him yet weakening him all the same. He was growing tired. Cap and Al must have felt it even more in their all-too human bodies.
Yet no one moved to break the defensive circle.
An arrow skimmed Tanner's cheek, drawing blood.
He glanced at Cap. The man was snarling, his eyes filled with bloodlust. His furs were no longer calico, but black and matted.
"Retreat!" Tanner repeated above the din.
A particularly large surge of Direwalkers raced through the gaping hole in the wall.
In addition to the fire sword, Tanner had also kept a satchel filled with pipe bombs and other miscellanea such as ropes and tinder sets for himself. He grabbed a pipe bomb from the satchel, bit the igniter, and hurled it into the oncoming surge.
The Direwalkers exploded in a mess of body parts and gristle.
"Retreat!" Cap finally said.
One of the thugs hoisted a black flag into the air.
Tanner didn't wait much longer than that to flee. Cap and Al were at his side, and the remainder of the ever-dwindling defenders crowded down the main street just behind them. They slew any Direwalkers that got in their way.
That is, until Brute dropped down from one of the houses just ahead.
Ari's killer.
Tanner spread his arms wide and slowed, bringing the defenders behind him to a reluctant halt. Cap and Al hurled flames at the Direwalker, but Brute advanced, unscathed. The four-armed Direwalker held a scimitar in each of its hands and wore a wicked grin on its face.
"I got this!" Tanner told his companions. "Go around the Direwalker. Don't get close to the thing or you're dead. Go! I'll meet you in the sewers."
Al patted Tanner on the shoulder. "You're a good man." He and the others moved on, giving the Direwalker a very wide berth.
Brute turned to take a swipe at a few of them, but Tanner hurried forward and prodded the big Direwalker. Brute slapped his sword aside with a leer.
Tanner backed off. He flexed his fingers on the hilt of his sword, drawing vitra, readying himself. He had been dreaming of this day.
Of vengeance.
"No!" Brute abruptly hurled one of its scimitars. Tanner made to deflect the blow, but then he realized that the throw was wide.
The blade skewered another Direwalker beside him. The thing had launched itself unnoticed at Tanner from the side.
The message was clear to any Direwalkers watching.
Tanner was Brute's.
The four-armed Direwalker approached, and the two circled one another. Brute squashed one foot down on the head of the Direwalker it had just killed, grabbed the hilt of the embedded sword, and drew the weapon out in a bloody spurt.
Tanner used the opportunity to attack. He ran forward, coming at the thing from the side, and launched flames into its face. He somersaulted high, bringing the blade down like a guillotine into the back of the Direwalker's neck.
Though temporarily blinded by the flame, somehow Brute anticipated the attack and parried the blade with two of its swords. Its remaining two weapons swiveled upward, and if Tanner hadn't twisted in midair he would've been skewered.
Tanner hit Brute with his shoulder, and rolled off its back. He instantly stabbed backward with the sword, and felt the blade connect with something hard. The vibrations passed up Tanner's wrists and into his arms.
He glanced behind. The tip of the sword had struck Brute squarely in the ribcage, but hadn't penetrated. It was like he'd struck stone.
Tanner had never fought Brute blade to blade before, but he should've guessed at this outcome. After all, Ari was a better swordsman than him and she couldn't defeat it.
Brute's flesh was impervious to any weapon.
The Direwalker pivoted toward him, mouth upturned in anticipation of the kill.
91
Hoodwink strode with purpose through the halls of Jeremy's manor house, leading the Dwarf on a chain behind him, the sword held close to its throat. He kept the blade cool, deprived of vitra, so as not to scorch the gol's neck.
The Direwalkers in the house gave Hoodwink a wide berth, snarling and clawing at the air as he passed. If any Direwalker came too close, Hoodwink just had to flex his arm and pretend he was going to behead the Dwarf, and the Direwalker would retreat right quick. Still, the Direwalkers shadowed him, and he gathered quite the escort by the time he reached the reception hall.
"Release me while you still have the chance, Hoodwink," the Dwarf said. "And you may yet survive this day."
"Dwarf," Hoodwink said. "Don't know where to begin with you, I don't. You've no inkling of the germ, do you? The size of it all. Of course you can't know. The bitch at your neck cuts you off from everything. But you must have seen it, those days ago, when you were still whole. Seen how much of the world you live in has been lost. You're the one who'll be lucky to survive this day."
"All I've seen is the path of doom," the Dwarf said. "The end of humankind. We will live on. The machines. The A.I.s. But the humans, they will be no more. This is what you want, no?"
Hoodwink pressed the sword into the Dwarf's neck. "Don't ever think you know what I want, gol. Don't ever presume. And you'll be quiet now, you hear?"
The Dwarf kept its peace.
Hoodwink crossed the red ermine carpet that spanned the floor of the reception hall. There was something uncanny about that carpet, and he thought he saw parts of it warping and elongating on the outskirts of his vision, but whenever he glanced at those sections head-on, the rug appeared normal. It almost seemed like the carpet was watching him somehow.
He didn't like the feeling.
He proceeded upstairs to Jeremy's bedchamber and marched inside without knocking. The curtains were closed, shutting out most of the daylight, but there was still enough light to discern the features of the room. Tapestries of underwater cities decorated the walls, set between statues of coral reefs and vases etched with sea creatures. The comforter on the bed had an image of a jellyfish painted across it.
Dressed in a black robe with the hood raised, Jeremy was kneeling before a tall mirror. His back was to Hoodwink but his features were visible in the mirror, though a little obscured in the dim light. There was some gold threadwork on one o
f his sleeves.
Direwalkers followed Hoodwink inside, keeping a tolerable distance away.
"Leave us," Jeremy said. The Direwalkers obeyed. Before the last one left, Jeremy added, "And shut the door behind you."
The door slammed.
"Greetings, brother," Jeremy said.
92
Tanner couldn't think. There was no time to draw vitra, not with Brute's blades flashing in on him, trying to take his head. He could only exist in the moment. Respond on instinct. Unconsciously regurgitate the swordplay training sessions he'd uploaded to his avatar. His practice opponent had never moved this fast.
A scimitar chopped down at his arm. He parried. Another scimitar cut at his chest. He brought his weapon up just in time. Another scimitar was already coming in for his throat. And another behind that. He dodged left, then right, and just had time to bring his blade up for the first scimitar again. The second scimitar came in for his heart. He twisted sideways, and the scimitar skimmed across his flesh, bouncing off one of his ribs. The third scimitar was already coming in. The fourth. Tanner barely deflected the blows.
He was going to lose.
There were screams around him as other Direwalkers stormed the houses and chased out Denizen holdouts. Some of those men and women ran too close, and Brute turned aside to hack them down with a big smile on its face.
Tanner took advantage of Brute's distraction to leap on a barrel, and then up onto a nearby rooftop. He stumbled backward over the roof's snow as he frantically searched his satchel for a pipe bomb. Brute was already climbing up after him.
Tanner found the bomb, and bit the igniter right down—he wanted the fuse as short as possible. "Catch." He tossed the bomb at the Direwalker.
It detonated. The shock-wave propelled Tanner to the neighboring rooftop and he rolled off onto the street beyond. He lay there, stunned. A high-pitched keen filled his hearing, sourced by his own ear drums. His ears felt wet, and when he touched his right lobe his fingers came away red.
