Witch of the Midnight Blade

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Daniel rubbed at the cloth over his mouth and nose. He turned toward Antonius, then he, too, slowly stepped around the wall.

  Vivicus stood on the other side in the maw, looking out through the hole in the world. “We’ve done runs to other spikes,” he said. “Amsterdam. Paris. Los Angeles.” He sniffed. “Earthquakes also leveled L.A.”

  The haze here obscured the edges of the spike. Wispy cloud colors roiled along its surface. Grays mostly, like the gray of new-space, but with mixed-in streams of bright blues, greens, reds, and a few oranges that slowly slid across the wall like words on a dragon reader-board. They’d pop up suddenly, the colors and shapes, scroll in some not-so random direction—up, down, left, right, sometimes diagonally—then dissipate into the haze that hung around the massive, oscillating, shimmering wall.

  “The biggest North American spike in our timeline hit Mexico City,” Antonius said. “The dragons had figured out how to land the spikes instead of impacting them by then, but they hadn’t figured out our planet’s tectonics.”

  Vivicus looked directly at Janus. “The spike that hit Rome set off Vesuvius.”

  They were reiterating Earth’s immune reaction to the spikes as if Vivicus suddenly cared. Maybe he was shifting allegiances again.

  Janus’s seers flickered outward. He blinked but didn’t respond.

  To the east, just visible in the haze, a massive bridge extended from the top of the spike over the hell-mote and pinned itself to the wall of the impact crater. Another bridge also extended to the west.

  The bridges had the look of ornate, solid granite, like the buttresses on old churches in Europe. The ones the builders used to keep the cathedrals standing.

  Daniel pointed at the eastern bridge. Something huge and camouflaged skittered across the side. “Hellhound guard,” he said.

  Church buttresses had gargoyles. The bridges extending from the spike had big, mean hellhounds.

  Antonius pointed first at the closer, eastern bridge, then at the westward one. “All spikes are stabilized by six radial spokes.”

  The bridges served as the dragons’ ground-level doors, and the airlock at the end of the bridge was likely the same as the other spikes—ten meters tall and a full fifteen wide. The spike showed only a flat wall of lights, but it was there.

  “The bridges have an overlapping web-like power system. It’s hidden behind camo, so we never did get conclusive evidence,” Vivicus said. “It will fry you the moment you try to disrupt the power.”

  After twelve runs at different spikes, they knew this much for sure.

  “I will shut down the webs,” Janus said. “Then we’ll walk up to their front door. I will plunge Stab into their wifi-connected doorbell.” Janus lowered the sword. “Then I will open an incursion to the Dragonslayer.”

  Up until now they’d had an amorphous plan of sneaking in and porting out like a bunch of space cowboys. It was the type of detail-free idea used to motivate troops. But now it sounded ridiculous. “We recon. We plan. Sneaking in does not work. We know.” Leif waved his hand between Vivicus and Antonius.

  “You promised to wait until I gave the okay,” Daniel said.

  Janus cupped the back of Daniel’s head and shoved him against the wall like a bully on a playground. “I also promised to modify the incursion targeting so the battleship in the sky doesn’t nuke the spike, remember? I know what I’m doing.”

  “Try that with me and see what happens,” Antonius growled at Janus.

  Daniel dusted himself off. “Antonius will fry that suit you stole no matter how prodigious you claim to be, grandfather.” He rubbed at his neck and made a face that indicated real pain.

  Antonius tapped his own arm, then held out his hand for Daniel to touch his suit. “Recognized.” He tapped at his arm again. “Here.” Antonius laid his gloved hand over the lower part of Daniel’s head, over the muscles that attached to the part of the skull protecting his under-used occipital lobes. “How’s that?”

  Daniel straightened up. “Thanks.”

  Leif tapped his own arm. “Daniel.”

  Daniel touched his suit, too.

  “Recognized,” Leif said. His suit had clawed its way back to eighty-nine percent. Not fully operational, but within battle specs.

  Vivicus shrugged. “I’m not letting Addy anywhere near my controls.”

  Daniel gave him the finger.

  Janus pointed Stab at Daniel. “Squat here, Daniel. Watch the show. It’ll be a fascinating death.” He flipped Stab onto her scabbard. “Come,” he said. “We go now, before a patrol figures out there are humans nearby. It’s time to stop the cycles.”

  “All deaths are acceptable losses when you cast yourself as the hero,” Daniel muttered.

  Vivicus’s face hardened so fast Leif suspected he’d been waiting for Daniel to make some declaration he could use against Janus. “You better not be thinking of leaving us here,” he growled.

  Vivicus, like Janus, was too easy to read.

  All three of Janus’s seers burst from him as thick, whipping tentacles of power with which he punched.

  Leif almost doubled over. Vivicus groaned. Daniel gagged. Even Antonius twitched.

  Janus wasn’t going to keep his promises.

  From the look on Vivicus’s face, he’d realized the same thing.

  Janus swung the sword toward Vick. “I can and will kill any of you before you get close enough to do me damage.” He walked away.

  Vick turned on Leif the same look of fear-laced surprise he’d had back in Denver when Janus first said he wanted to open a ground incursion.

  Daniel’s seers rang out. “Stay your course, Vivicus,” he said.

  Leif nodded. Vivicus’s eyes narrowed but he seemed to accept Daniel’s declaration. Then he returned Leif’s nod and followed Janus around the wall.

  Antonius’s face stayed as impassive as Daniel’s. He squeezed Daniel’s elbow. “You need to run.” He pointed back into the tunnel. “Get as far away as you can. Stay away from the surface. Please.”

  Daniel cupped Antonius’s face. “I’ll be okay.”

  Antonius shook his head. “Don’t lie to me. I know you do it for a reason but it’s still wrong.” His face contorted in indignation.

  Daniel dropped his hands to Antonius’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you came through that ground incursion only to find this version of me.”

  Antonius pulled Daniel close. “The gods demand sacrifices,” he said. “The multiverse is the worst god of all.”

  Daniel, his head against Antonius’s shoulder, chuckled. “I’m still sorry.” He glanced up as if to make sure Leif understood as much as Antonius. “You as well, son of Ladon.”

  Leif didn’t, but he nodded once in reassurance anyway.

  Antonius squeezed Daniel one last time. He stepped back, then followed Vivicus and Janus around the wall.

  “He lied, didn’t he?” Leif asked. Janus wasn’t going to use his mighty Fate power to disguise their escape. Why had Leif held out hope that he’d do as he promised?

  He’d held that one small glimmer of hope because Janus was one of the five. He’d carried that burden into the past. He was a Progenitor.

  “I told you to go with Del,” Leif said.

  Daniel’s present-seer followed Antonius. “Perhaps I already have.”

  Yes, maybe he had. Maybe he’d accepted that he was about to die with the woman and the emperor Leif had tried to get far enough away to save.

  The rest of the team disappeared into the tunnel. “I’m glad I got to meet you again,” Leif said. At least he’d had some time with a member of his family before he went to his death.

  Daniel gripped Leif’s elbows. “Go. Remind Antonius and Vivicus that they are Legion.”

  Leif closed his hood around his head, but left his face uncovered. “To the Elysian Fields, huh?”

  Daniel grinned. “And here I thought you were more of a Valhalla kid.”

  Leif bowed. “The next timeline, then.”
>
  Daniel offered a quick hug. “Onward, Ladonson.”

  “Onward.” Leif closed his hood. Then he turned away from the man he considered family, following the rest of the Seraphim to their coming death.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Del…

  Ahead of us in the tunnel between the dripping pipes, the hot wind, and the strange floating colors that had to be reflections from the spike, Daniel said “All deaths are acceptable losses when you cast yourself as the hero.”

  Nax signaled for me to hide and we silently backed into the shadows behind a broken wall.

  I lifted my goggles and dropped the mask from over my mouth. The haze and heat made it hard to breathe, but the filter in the mask made a hissing noise with each exhalation. Nax watched, then did the same.

  When Daniel told Leif that “perhaps I already have” gone with Nax and me, I knew he was up to something. We waited and we listened. Daniel shuffled. And after what felt like forever, he walked around a massive chunk of fallen concrete and into our shadow. “You can come out now,” he said.

  I pulled the extra mask from my pack as I walked up. “Here.”

  He continued to face away and to look down the tunnel but extended his hand for the mask. “Thank you.”

  Nax walked past Daniel and leaned against the concrete to get a look into the tunnel. “So they’re going to do it, huh?” He shook his head.

  Daniel rolled the mask around in his hands. “He does seer sweeps, so do your best to be flat and boring.”

  Nax chuckled. “Always.”

  “How much did you hear?” Daniel asked.

  “They’re going to walk up to the door and ring the bell,” I said. Leif and Antonius were going to walk right alongside Janus and Vivicus onto some bridge and stick Stab into the wall.

  “I heard the Seraphim arguing,” Nax said.

  Daniel ran his thumb over the filter as if his present-seer was occupied and he had to rely on his hands. He pressed his temple as if his head hurt. “Destroying the Tokyo Spike will speed the terraforming.” He looped the mask’s straps around his arm. “Janus wants glory. Vivicus, I don’t know. Leif is staying close because he thinks he can stop all of this.” He inhaled. “Antonius admitted to himself that I’m in here.”

  Nax tossed me a look that said volumes about his desire not to deal with love triangles.

  “You and Janus, my dear Emperor,” Daniel said. “We are distracting, are we not?” He rubbed at his head again. “As are you, Addy.”

  I touched his arm. “Hey,” I said. “Addy.”

  Daniel turned toward me.

  “Let’s get through this, okay? Then we’ll figure out how to help you and your guest.” Was I promising to help a murderer? I was. Would I ever stop helping the stray puppies of the world even when they bit off fingers? Probably not.

  I was the stupidest human left on Earth. Stupid to think that I could help stop an after-disaster that would kill millions more. Stupid to think offering Addy an option would make a difference.

  There had to be a balance between giving up and wanting to go home and sacrificing myself for the world. Or maybe there wasn’t. Maybe I’d always been an all-or-nothing kind of person. Maybe all I wanted was for this to end.

  The normal flatness of Daniel’s face morphed into an expression of shock. He blinked, then did the head twist he did when talking to Addy. “It’s not a probable future.” He said it in a way that seemed more for her than for me.

  Nax mirrored Daniel’s shock. Then he sniffed and went back to looking down the tunnel.

  “You do understand that bad people just needing a hug is, in fact, a myth, right?” Daniel asked.

  Nax snorted.

  “I probably should have paid more attention in Psych 101, huh?” Distract, I thought. Show nothing. Don’t even show yourself how much you want this to end.

  Daniel leaned toward me. “Addy says she will haunt you until the heat death of the universe if you take the easy way out, Philadelphia Parrish,” he whispered.

  He didn’t want Nax to hear. Or maybe he didn’t want me to be embarrassed.

  I wasn’t. I wasn’t indignant, either. Or full of adrenaline. Or anything other than a little sore from pedaling a bike through Tokyo’s ruins.

  I’d become the physical embodiment of the surreal nature of the universe, which was probably why I felt like the universe’s automaton.

  “We are sorry for allowing Cordelia to use you as bait,” Daniel said. “I wish I had seen to send you help at Paradise Homes. I wish a lot of things.” He pointed toward my pack. “Do you still have the phone?”

  “Yes.” I opened the pack and pulled it out. “We found a charger but it did nothing. I think it’s dead.”

  Daniel opened the case. He carefully touched the little silver and gold dragons in the case’s pocket. “Marcus will be fine, by the way.”

  I inhaled. I was honestly surprised I cared.

  He handed back the phone and dug in his pocket. “Here,” he said. “Now you have three.”

  I tossed the charger into the pack and stuck the phone in my pocket more out of habit than for any other reason.

  I took the little metal circle of silver and gold. “Why do all of you keep giving me these?” All they did was make me think about the givers. I wished I knew if Erik made it out. I wished I knew if Ismene was okay. And that just made me wish, once again, to see my family.

  Daniel folded my fingers around the insignia. “Nax,” he said. “How do you feel?”

  He hadn’t answered my question.

  I tucked the insignia into my pocket with Erik’s, and Marcus’s, and Marcus’s phone.

  Nax inhaled through the filter on his mask, then slowly exhaled. “If I hold off until the last possible moment, I can get you and Del to Janus.”

  He was going to use his abilities. “Nax!” But it didn’t matter what I said. Or wanted. Or for some stupid reason hadn’t considered. The only way we were ever going to get close was for him to use his ability to hide us, and I’d pushed it out of my mind. I’d let it simmer and stew like everything else because I didn’t want to think about Nax’s end, too.

  “It’s all right, Del,” Nax said. “This is important.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Janus is unlikely to keep his word. We need you talking to the ship.”

  Someone had to make the case for no nukes. “That’s it? You’re going to burn away so I can get Stab again?” All this time, all the fighting, and he was going to sacrifice himself? “What about Orel?”

  “Tell him I’m sorry. Tell Ms. Pavlovich. Tell Ladon-Human and his beast. Let the Dracae know that I finally made a difference in the world.” He pulled his mask over his face. “They’re getting too far ahead.”

  Daniel pointed at my pack. “Leave that here. We will need to move fast once we hit the bridge. We won’t have long before Janus realizes we followed.” He pulled on his mask. “Nax’s ability works biologically. Dragon surveillance will pick us up immediately.”

  Nax wasn’t surprised. He handed Daniel one of his rifles. “I can’t tell the difference between the Seraphim when they have their hoods up.”

  I could. “Leif is taller than the others and Antonius moves like an otter. Shoot the other two.”

  Daniel shouldered the rifle. “Stay as close to Nax as possible until you can get your hands on the Midnight Blade.”

  I had no idea how I was supposed to run around whatever security the dragons had on the bridge, or Janus, or Vivicus. Or the damned spaceship, either. So I just nodded and followed Nax toward the poisonous dragon lights.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Leif…

  Leif’s display said he’d stayed steady at eighty-nine percent during the jog from the tunnel to the open area in front of the bridge’s attachment point. His piezoelectric batteries weren’t charging anymore. Janus had done real damage to his suit’s systems.

  Eighty-nine percent was battle operational. It also meant he was the most vulnerable—and the we
akness that would likely get them all killed.

  He’d make it half the distance across the bridge before the dragons’ surveillance net picked him out against the background haze and heat. Once they picked out his movement, their systems would calibrate and pick out Janus, Vivicus, and Antonius before they made it halfway across the other half. And then the dragons’ turrets would open halfway across that little slice of already-halved distance.

  There was no solution to this problem. One could not cover all the ground to a target if one was always only traveling half the distance.

  A lot of the maths woven through new-space science touched on infinite distance problems—weirdly so, according to the handful of theoretical physicists and mathematicians capable of comprehending the seven-dimensional nature of new-spacetime—so Leif shouldn’t be surprised he faced that question in real-space, in real-time, on an alien spike in a place that should not be dead.

  Infinite distances. Arrays of space and time. Narcissistic Fates messing with the what-was-is-will-be, and here he was, the Impossible Son, about to walk into death’s maw once more because that’s what he did. That’s what his family had always done. That’s what they did across all the curlicues of the multiverse.

  Leif inhaled deeply through his suit’s filters. Air temperature was consistent with predictions around a spike during summer months in the first depressed seasons after the invasion. The chemical composition of the haze—high albedo particulates, acids, standard-issue human pollutants—looked correct as well. They may have time-jumped, but they hadn’t gone far enough ahead for the spike to be pumping out its atmospheric terraforming changes yet.

  The dragons were halfway to that point, at least.

  Onward, Ladonson, Daniel had said. Go forth and do what you do, old man.

  Janus’s seers swept the ten meters of flat, open space around the bridge’s connection to the actual earth around the spike. All the bridges attached at the surface, probably to allow the movement of large patrol vessels. This one was about the width of a four-lane highway, complete with median and shoulders, and about two-and-a-half times as long as it was wide.