Chapter 36 – Rooftop Rumble

Linton downed a nim potion and advised Cat to do the same. They followed Mara down a long, narrow alley, darkened by the swaths of red and brown cloth that hung between the rooftops.

There was no sign of Mara, so Linton stopped to survey the area. He wheezed from the short run, spat blood, but there was no pain. Rather, it was a pleasurable sensation that bloomed in his chest. He plucked out another piece of bark and chewed it, just to be safe. He couldn’t afford any weakness. Not today.

“I think we lost her,” Cat said.

“Not yet,” Linton growled. “I can find her.”

He threw out a cognitive net, searching for anomalous auras.

He found one.

Right on top of them.

Linton tackled Cat out of the way. They hit the ground, and Mara landed in a crouch where they’d just been standing, her slender blade throwing up sparks as it struck the cobbles.

Linton tried to get up but realized there was no time as Mara hurled her blade at him. Cat slid in front of him and threw up a barrier that repelled the weapon, causing it to flip end over end before ending up back in the archon’s hand.

Linton sensed an aura behind him and ducked underneath a sword swing as the last monster hunter charged out of a darkened doorway. The man pulled back for another strike. Linton tried to back away from him and bumped into his sister.

“Skolda Agar!” Linton cried.

A clone stepped out of him and caught the blade, its hardlight skin already cracking under the tension. Linton stepped around the side and pointed his gun at the monster hunter, but the man jerked back, causing Linton to shoot his clone instead, and the spell dispersed into a fleeting shower of sparkling hardlight.

The monster hunter went on the offensive. Linton backed up as the man swung at his throat. He barely avoided the attack. Cat was thrown into a wall between the two of them and sank to the ground, groaning breathily.

Seeing an opportunity, the monster hunter swung at Cat. Linton kicked the blade mid-arc and caused it to go wide. It bit into the wall above Cat’s head.

Cat raised her hand, forefinger and little finger extended.

“Bang,” she said.

An explosion tore through the monster hunter’s chest and sent him flying. He didn’t get back up.

Linton looked up to see where Mara had gone, only to receive a kick to the face that hit him like an anvil. He stumbled back against the wall, all sense knocked clean out of him, and struggled to catch himself as his legs gave out. He caught hold of a trash bin that held his weight.

Knowing there was no time to wait, Linton created a clone to take his place and rolled out of the way. Mara sped right into his double, running it through with her blade. Hardlight cracked, but Linton reinforced the clone with an extra burst of blue anima, and the thing reached out to hold Mara in place with a bear hug.

Linton took only a split second to aim before unloading the entirety of his magazine. A few bullets missed, and one hit the clone, but he caught Mara in the arm before she was able to dodge away.

“You vermin,” Mara said, bracing herself against a wall at the opposite end of the alley with her free hand. Her left arm hung useless, dripping with blood. “I’ll kill you both and bring your heads back to Couldess.”

“Unlikely. Keep dreaming, though,” Linton said.

Mara pushed off the wall and shot forward with dizzying speed, powered by vivimantic enhancements to push her muscled legs into moving with the speed of a cheetah.

“Hryna!” Cat shouted, holding up one hand. A beam of hot plasma, finger-thick, shot out of her palm. Mara ducked underneath it without missing a beat, and the plasma only melted through the wall behind her.

Mara barreled into Linton, throwing him back into the wall. He felt wood crack, then give way behind him, and he flew into the darkened building. He flipped end over end before landing on his stomach with wooden splinters all around him.

He should have been in agony, but somehow he was back on his feet before he could even will himself to stand. A scream got his attention. Looking back, he saw a woman clutching a small boy in her arms behind a recliner. The boy hyperventilated as he clutched a teddy bear, nearly squeezing out the stuffing.

It seemed that this was their living room.

Linton felt a twinge of annoyance at their presence. He didn’t need another obstacle to work around.

Mara sauntered into the room through the hole Linton’s body had made, stepping over jagged bits of debris. Cat approached behind her, but Mara drew a pistol from a holster on her leg and fired two bullets without looking back, both catching Cat center mass. She stumbled out of sight, and Mara continued unimpeded.

Linton choked back any concern he felt. There was no time for that, not now. He had to finish Mara quickly so that he could get Cat help.

He picked up the pistol he had dropped on the floor and ejected its empty magazine, then jammed in a new one. Before he could aim at the archon, she was on him, pinning him to the ground with a blade against his throat, keen edge dripping with her own blood.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you right away,” Mara said, her face pulled into a deranged, grinning mask. “I’m going to have a little fun with you first.”

She ran her short sword across his Adam’s apple, drawing blood, then flipped it into a reverse grip and drove the blade deep into Linton’s shoulder, scraping bone.

Linton gritted his teeth, but not with pain. He let out a pleasured sigh.

Mara frowned. Her grin faded.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “Why won’t you scream for me?”

“I’ve had better,” Linton said with a lazy grin. He used her doubts, narrowed his mind into a blade and slid it through her mental defenses, so slowly and carefully that she wouldn’t even notice.

“Very well,” she growled. “Let’s hope your sister is more fun.”

Mara pulled back the blade and thrust it at Linton’s chest.

“Skolda!” Linton said, creating a disc of hardlight that caught the archon’s blade. He still wasn’t through her defense. Just a little more…

She released the sword and pointed her pistol at his face.

A teddy bear bounced off her head and landed limply on the floor beside Linton.

They both stared at it for a moment. Mara looked up, shock quickly turning to rage.

The little boy stood at the edge of the living room, struggling against his mother’s hold as she tried to drag him away.

“Don’t hurt him!” the boy cried.

“You dare…?” Mara asked. She stood, taking slow, measured steps towards the boy. “You should have kept your brood in line, mommy.”

Mara pointed the gun at the boy.

His mother cried in anguish and gathered the boy in her arms. She sank to the floor as she blubbered apologies and begged for the archon to show mercy.

Linton knew better. He had seen the madness in her eyes.

This was a game to her.

Nothing would part her from her enjoyment of it.

He rolled to his feet, bounded up to the archon, and reached out to grab the back of her head. She twisted at the last second and he barreled into her, sending them both to the floor, him on top.

Mara swiped her sword horizontally, and Linton narrowly avoided being shaved a head shorter by jerking his head back. He feinted with his right hand, then darted out with his left as soon as she moved to counter. His thumb connected with Mara’s forehead.

“Ila Sovi!” he commanded.

Her eyes grew unfocused. The rage disappeared from her features, and her jaw hung slack as her eyelids fluttered shut.

She began to snore.

Linton stood, breathing heavy. He picked up Mara’s gun.

“Thanks, kid,” he said to the boy, and meant it.

He turned his attention to the mother and cast a simple spell to calm her down just a tad. “You should get your son out of here. He doesn’t want to see this.”

She complied, rushing upstairs.

Once he heard a door close, he put three rounds through Mara’s skull, then one through her heart.

***

Aeva pummeled the construct. It put up a hand to block, so she tore it off and continued punching with blazing fists until she reached the soul core. She ripped that out and crushed it in her fist, killing the Ironheart.

She stood up and surveyed the battlefield. She had killed several of the constructs, but there seemed to be over a dozen left. Several hundred volunteers had already broken and run away.

“Hey, take it easy!” Frost called, jogging with heavy breaths, that ridiculous gun bouncing on his hip. “I can barely keep up!”

Aeva spotted something in the distance. A construct standing head and shoulders taller than the rest, scarred from battle. He gunned down revolutionaries with a heavy assault rifle

Storm.

This time, he won’t get away.

She bounded towards him, working her way through fleeing revolutionaries. Her heart burned hot with rage.

He ruined my life. He ruined everything.

Deep in her mind, Gjurin’s words nagged at her. Telling her not to seek vengeance.

Aeva pushed it aside. The Goddess of War had no such stipulation.

Gisa’s will stoked the flames within her until everything became red.

Storm caught sight of her as she approached the wide swathe of corpses surrounding him. Anticipating his aim, she dodged out of the way of the three-round bursts he fired her way, effectively closing the distance as she picked up speed.

Storm laughed a joyless laugh and threw his gun aside, raising his arms high. She charged into him, fire at her back, and put a dent in his chassis as they tumbled together.

They landed, Aeva on top.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Storm said.

Aeva cracked him across the face and broke his mechanical jaw.

“You really want to kill me, don’t you?” he asked. “That’s good. That’ll make butchering you all the sweeter.”

Aeva pulled back for another blow. Storm darted up and plunged a broad knife between her ribs. She screamed and fell backward, all the air driven out of her.

Storm stood up and readjusted his jaw. He was on top of her with three swift steps, placing an immovable foot on her chest. His knife dripped with dark blood.

“Say a prayer to your savage god,” Storm said. “Tell him I said hello.”

A dull detonation sounded and a spray of red-hot blades drove into the construct, piercing the armor and drawing sparks of blue energy. He was thrown back from the force of it, landing several meters away with nearly two dozen knives sticking out of him.

“Anyone ever tell you… that you run too fast?” Frost panted. He came to a stop next to her, holding a smoking shotgun.

“Yes,” Aeva said as she sat up, one hand on her ribs. “You have.”

“How do you like that?” he asked, nodding at the riddled-through construct. “How many enchanters can make a gun that shoots fucking swords?”

Storm stumbled back to his feet, the left half of his chassis completely melted, with only a thin layer of metal separating the soul core from open air.

Frost pumped the fore-grip of his gun and stuck another load of junk into it. Storm spotted a portal only a few meters away and ran for it. Aeva tried to get up to pursue, but her movements were slowed by pain and blood loss. Just getting her feet underneath her proved a challenge.

Frost fired. Storm dove to the side just in time, causing most of the razor-sharp blades to miss him entirely, digging into the ground where they sizzled and spat. A few got him in the leg, but he stumbled on, undeterred.

Storm disappeared into the portal.

Not long after, the battlefield grew quiet.

The rest of the Ironhearts had retreated.

Only Gisa’s anguished throes carried over the moans of the wounded as she stomped a construct that was long dead. Her wound still leaked magmatic blood but had mostly been repaired.

“Traitors…” Gisa muttered. “Traitors, all of them.”

Imwe insisted to her sister that they stay, tend to the wounded, and consolidate their forces before continuing, but Gisa was mad with rage, and would not hear it. She gathered her most loyal priests and pressed on, stomping further into the city with a great blade in her fist, looking for anyone to set her anger upon.

Aeva felt a thread tugging at her core, a compulsion to follow. Storm needed to die. He needed to face justice for butchering her tribesmen. Gisa was the only one who could grant her that.

She let her thumb run over the Crown on her hip.

“Stay here,” Aeva said to the pale lubbard. “Meet up with Doc.”

She began walking after the fire goddess, her wound forgotten.

“Hey, where are you going?” Frost asked, letting the barrel of his gun rest against the ground.

“To see something through.”

***

Gisa slammed into buildings and swung her sword wildly, fighting some illusory opponent.

“Traitors, traitors, traitors,” she muttered.

The priests hung back. Aeva followed the goddess closely with a growing sense of dread.

She is not well, Aeva thought. But what can I do? So long as she leads me to Storm, all else can be dealt with later.

Gisa stumbled into a two-story home, crushing the facade with her great bulk. A family of four came running out of the door, two lubbard parents with children in their late adolescence.

Gisa turned her sword on them.

“Betrayers,” she hissed. “Abandonment, always. What have I not given you? What whim have I not fulfilled? Useless, false little things. You must all be punished. You give me no choice.”

Aeva stood by in shock, but only for a moment.

I… I cannot ignore this.

She broke into a run and slid between Gisa’s legs. She jumped up in front of the family just as the goddess swung her weapon and caught the great, fiery blade between her palms, its spitting edge only centimeters from her face.

“You dare?” Gisa howled. “I, who gave you power. Who gave you a chance at revenge. You, too, would betray your master?”

“I cannot allow you to spill innocent blood,” Aeva said. “Set aside your weapon. Take a damned breath.”

Gisa withdrew her sword and took a step back. She regarded Aeva with a severe frown.

“Very well. I had come to enjoy your spirit, but you will have to burn, too.”

She pointed the sword at Aeva. The fire came away from Aeva’s body, sucked into the blade. Its absence was cold, a lonely chill that drew a gasp from her lungs. She fell to her knees, suddenly feeling every nerve firing around her bloody stab wound.

Gisa raised her sword for a killing blow.

What do I do? Aeva thought. I can’t fight back. I’m not strong enough. Even if I did, we need this alliance.

Linton would likely tell me that our victory is worth a little innocent blood being spilled.

Aeva looked up at the blade hanging over her head, and she felt an odd sense of tranquility.

He would be wrong.

She rolled out of the way as the sword came down, narrowly avoiding its wicked edge. She came up in a crouch, drew the Crown of the Moon-King off her belt, and placed it on her head.

An electric rush went through her.

“WORTHY!”

Lightning raced across the sky. Thunder rumbled like the breath of an ancient, slumbering beast. Aeva was energized, charged, forced to her feet by the boundless energy that ran through her. Almost without thought, the wound in her chest was soothed by silver light, knitting the flesh back up in seconds and leaving not a trace of the injury.

“It was never about revenge,” Aeva said. “I think it is about time I learned that.”

Gisa took several steps back. “Gjurin,” she growled. “Fine. It makes no difference.”

Gisa pulled her sword back for a swing.

Aeva conjured a spear of frozen lightning between her hands and brought it up to meet the fire goddess’s attack.

Their weapons clashed in a whirlwind of flame and electricity.

Aeva slid back, her feet finding little purchase on the asphalt. Gisa pushed hard, but Aeva made her work hard for every centimeter of ground. Aeva screamed, putting everything into her spear, all her will into that single point.

Gisa’s sword cracked, hairline fractures rushing across its surface. Aeva pushed harder, finding strength she didn’t know she’d had. Gisa’s blade shattered into blackened pieces, and the goddess stumbled back. Aeva leapt high. She came down with a yell and drove the spear into Gisa’s heart.

“I banish you!” she cried.

Gisa’s shrill howl joined hers.

Then she burst open, dispersing like a bag of smoke.

Aeva landed in a crouch.

Gisa was no more.

Looking up, she found the priests keeping their distance, either staring incredulously or speaking numb prayers. The family had already fled.

Linton stood there in their place.

“It had to be done,” Aeva said, apologetic in tone, but without any regret. “I could not allow her to kill innocents.”

Linton said nothing.

“You disapprove. You needed this alliance, I know.”

He shook his head, and a small smile played across his lips. “No. No, I think you had the right of it.”

He started walking and motioned for her to follow. “Come on. Let’s pick up the pieces.”

Aeva stared after him. She had not expected him, of all people, to approve.

Something is different about him.