The Severed Tower

by J. Barton Mitchell

  Holt smiled slightly. “She definitely made me work for it.”

  Mira felt a shudder, almost smiled herself, but stopped. This wasn’t the place. This was a charged situation.

  Ben nodded. “I’m sure.” He looked away and down at Zoey, who was holding on to Holt with one arm and Max with the other. Ben’s eyes moved over her in the same laborious way.

  “This is Zoey,” Mira said. Zoey just looked back up at him silently. “She’s a very good friend of mine.”

  Ben studied her curiously. “There’s something different about you. Something familiar, too. I can’t put my finger on it, which is … unusual for me.”

  Zoey’s voice was almost as soft as Ben’s. “There’s something different about you, too. Your emotions are hard to see. Like the Librarian. But he did it on purpose. That was how he tried to be. With you … I think it’s just who you are. Like you just don’t feel much.”

  As she spoke, Ben’s gaze magnetically locked on the little girl.

  “Sometimes it worries you,” Zoey said. “But not for long. There’s always something new to take your mind off it, something new to figure out. Your thoughts come one after the other, but they’re not all jumbled up. They’re … together. They make sense to you.” Zoey seemed surprised. “You must think about things a whole lot.”

  Mira had rarely ever seen a look of surprise on Ben’s face, but he wore one now. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  Ben was the one used to figuring people out, and the fact that Zoey had just done the same thing virtually ensured he would try and deduce why. The problem was, Zoey’s deductions weren’t based on physical evidence or deduction. They were based on amazing and dangerous powers that no one here needed to know about. If Mira let him, Ben would figure it out eventually. Ben figured everything out.

  “I didn’t know you would be here,” Mira pressed on, trying to distract him. And she knew there was one thing she could say that would guarantee it. “But I’m glad you are. I was hoping we could go with you.”

  Ben pulled his gaze from Zoey in genuine confusion. “Go with us where?”

  Mira swallowed. “The Severed Tower.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. A second later, the entire collection of Gray Devils behind him laughed out loud.

  “You wanna take a little girl and a dog into the Core?” one of them asked in disbelief.

  Her name was Faye. Mira knew because she used to tutor her on artifact creation, and Faye had been so grateful she’d gotten Mira a box of hot chocolate mix in thanks. Now Faye looked at Mira with scorn.

  Mira just kept her eyes on Ben. His opinion was the only one that mattered. Ben looked back curiously. Who knew what pieces he was putting together, but it was too late now to stop it.

  “Go back inside,” Ben told his team. “Double-check your gear. We’re going to make Polestar in two days, make up for lost time, and that means passing through the Mine Field and the Compactor without rest.” Ben’s Gray Devil team reluctantly disappeared back under the canopy.

  “No one’s going anywhere near Northlift,” Echo piped up from the other side of Holt. He’d been watching everything in the background, but he was just as firm in his opinions now as he had been earlier. “You won’t be seeing either of those Anomalies anytime soon.”

  “I’m not convinced of that,” Ben said absently. “You’re evacuating. The Crossroads will be empty soon, and you won’t have enough people to stop us. I know how to work Northlift, I’ve watched the operators do it, and it only takes once for me to see how something works.”

  Echo stiffened, but Holt spoke up. “I think these two have a lot to talk about,” he said. “Is there someplace Zoey and I could rest? Been moving pretty much nonstop for three days.”

  Echo looked at Zoey’s weary eyes and frowned. “Yeah. Sure. Come on.” He turned and headed back the way they’d come, and Holt pushed Zoey and Max after him.

  Mira tried to catch Holt’s eye as he did, but he wouldn’t look at her. There was a hollowness in her stomach as she watched him walk away.

  When they were gone, Ben moved closer.

  It made her uncomfortable, she realized with surprise. Somehow it felt wrong, and, at the same time, natural and comfortable, too. Ben’s mouth opened to speak, but then abruptly shut as he noticed something. His features contorted in a way Mira had rarely seen. He was shocked, and it took a lot to shock Ben Aubertine.

  “Your … eyes…” he said in a stunned whisper. Ben had noticed the one thing Echo hadn’t, that her eyes no longer held the telltale traces of the Tone. “That’s … how did…?”

  “Ben,” she said firmly, stopping him before he got going. “It is exactly what it looks like. And I know you want to know, I know it’s almost impossible for you to sideline something you’re curious about, and I know ‘curious’ probably doesn’t even begin to describe it, but I can’t tell you about my eyes right now. I will, I promise, but I need you to be patient. Okay?”

  Ben just kept staring into her eyes, searching the pupils for evidence or clues, and she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.

  “Ben.”

  He blinked, refocusing—and then smiled.

  A smile from Ben was unusual, and it filled her with emotion like it always did. “I’m … so happy for you.” It was genuine, the sentiment, devoid of any envy or bitterness, and it only complicated things in Mira’s mind. He leaned in toward her. Mira didn’t move, a thousand thoughts swirling through her head. “I missed you. You’re the only one I ever miss.”

  Mira pulled away from him at the last second.

  Ben studied her curiously. He hadn’t predicted that reaction. But, as always, he quickly surmised where it came from. “I see.” He didn’t look hurt or worried, just resolved. “Lenore’s dead, isn’t she?”

  The question hit like a lightning bolt. “Yes…” Mira said, her voice shaking. “I mean no. She’s not … dead. She’s…”

  “Succumbed,” Ben finished for her. Mira’s eyes widened. Sometimes his ability to deduce things was staggering. But he just shrugged. “You said ‘yes,’ at first, which means she might as well be dead, but if she’s not, the closest thing is Succumbed. There’s only one thing I know of that could Succumb a Heedless.” He was right. Even now she was aware of the horrible artifact that sat in her pack. “When you were getting your artifact … Lenore said I was the one who told her about it,” Ben said slowly. “You feel betrayed.”

  When she spoke her voice wasn’t shaky anymore. It was stern and cold. “Did you?”

  Ben looked back at her but said nothing. He just turned and started walking down a path between half a dozen rusting helicopters. “You’ll need your Lexicon,” he said.

  Her Lexicon was one of the last things on her mind, but he was right. She would need it if they were going into the Strange Lands.

  Mira stared after Ben a moment, then followed him. A small brass dice cube appeared from one of his pockets, the same die he always carried. He juggled it on his hand, floating it between his knuckles, back and forth. It was a habit for him, something he did when he was deep in thought.

  “I was the one who told Lenore,” he finally said.

  A wave of heat rushed through Mira. She was surprised by how tangible the anger and pain was. Even after Lenore had told her, even after she’d seen Ben’s name on the Scorewall outside the Unmentionables column, a part of her hadn’t believed it. Or at least, hadn’t wanted to. But now it was real.

  Mira stopped and stared at him. “How the hell could you do that to me? You were the one person I could trust! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through because of what you did!?”

  Ben turned and studied her calmly. He seemed introspective, not ashamed or hurt. It only made Mira angrier.

  “No,” he said. “I won’t pretend I do. But what I do know is that whatever it was, you could handle it. And that’s the reason I did what I did. It wasn’t an easy choice for me, Mira.”

  Mira spoke slowly in a voice laced with so much veno
m she barely recognized herself. “Please try to explain it in a way that makes sense to those of us without your ability to intellectually rationalize every goddamn thing you think and want.”

  Ben sighed, as if summoning patience. She wanted to hit him. “It was my opportunity to get a Severed Tower expedition. You know how important that is.”

  “More important than me, apparently,” Mira shot back.

  “Like I said, I knew you’d be fine. You’re always fine, you always get out of whatever mess you’re in. It was mathematically certain you’d escape, and then either come back with a plan to get your artifact—or accept Lenore’s offer, which, by the way, wasn’t a bad one.”

  “Ben…”

  “If it was certain, really certain, that you would be okay, if I knew you would make it—then why shouldn’t I take Lenore’s offer? Everyone wins. It’s easy math.”

  “Because people are dead because of what you did,” Mira replied. “There’s more than just you and me in the world, Ben.”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned.” Finally there was a hint of emotion in his voice.

  Mira sighed and looked away. She felt tired all of a sudden. It was the kind of answer she should have expected from Ben, and in its own way it actually did make sense. But that didn’t make it feel any better.

  “I … know you’re mad at me,” he said. She looked back up at him. “But you have to believe I knew we would be together again. It’s the only thing other than the Tower that matters to me. I wouldn’t risk either. I promise I’ll make it up to you. You’re back now. Everything’s over. You and I can go to the Tower like we always—”

  “I told you, I have to go with my friends to the Tower.” She walked past him, back down the path through the old helicopters.

  Ben followed silently. The die reappeared, dancing on his knuckles. “Hauling a non-Freebooter, a little girl, and a dog through the Core is suicide. And why the Tower anyway? If not with me, why with them? You don’t need to reach the Tower to destroy your artifact. The fourth ring Anvil is far enough for that.”

  He was figuring things out, Mira knew, about to be lost in a stream of thoughts that would lead to one inevitable conclusion.

  “The bounty hunter is a means to an end. He helps you survive, I get that, but there’s no reason for him to go to the Tower either. It must be because of the girl. She’s the only unknown.”

  “Ben…” Mira said.

  “Then there’s your and the bounty hunter’s eyes, clear of the Tone. He could be Heedless, there’s no way to know, but you definitely aren’t.”

  “Ben, stop—”

  “The girl probably factors into that, too … but how?”

  “Ben…”

  “There have been rumors, even here, of someone who destroyed the Assembly army at Midnight. Someone who stood on the dam and unleashed the waters. I hadn’t put much credence in it, it didn’t add up. But maybe—”

  “Stop!” Mira yelled and quit walking. “Just … stop.”

  Ben looked at her oddly. Studied her like she was new to him all over again, like she was a mystery. Ben liked mysteries. “What have you gotten yourself into, Mira?”

  “Like I said…” She stared back at him, feeling the anger starting to build. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

  They started walking again.

  It was weird moving through the Crossroads in its abandoned state. Buildings and planes and structures she’d been in countless times before, for various reasons, now all stood empty and quiet. It was unsettling.

  Ahead was the wingless fuselage of a colorfully painted old bomber. A B-17 Flying Fortress. She knew that because her grandfather had served on one in the Pacific.

  Mira and Ben moved toward it. One of its doors hung open, a red δ spray-painted next to it, and they stepped inside. The walls had been rigged with old lockers from a ruined school or gymnasium, probably. Each was padlocked and decorated with different ornaments and pictures, making the room an arc of color all around the inside of the old airplane.

  Mira moved to hers, a dull yellow one with M.T. written on the side in white paint. There were no pictures, just the writing. She’d never gotten around to properly decorating it, because there had always been other things to do. Now she wondered if this was the last time she would ever see it.

  Ben watched as Mira dialed in the combination and opened her locker. There was only one thing inside, hanging from a rusted coat hook.

  At first glance it looked like a big leather-bound book with a long shoulder strap woven into the binding, but it was actually much more than that. It was Mira’s Strange Lands Lexicon, a vital tool for any Freebooter. In fact, the possession of a Lexicon is what made you a Freebooter. Only those who completed the Librarian’s training and survived their final trial received one.

  Lexicons were handed down from Freebooter to Freebooter, either collected after they were killed in the Strange Lands, or turned in before the Tone took them. As such, they represented the collective knowledge of every Freebooter who had owned it in the past. The loss of a Lexicon in the Strange Lands was nothing short of a tragedy.

  Mira’s was bound in thick, faded red leather with frayed edges, worn smooth from years of use. Etched into the cover was a gray δ, and she ran her fingers around the outline of the symbol. Straps passed though tarnished brass buckles, keeping it sealed, and two metal locks on either side ensured that only she could open it. Inside were detailed maps of the Strange Lands’ rings and the Core—if any of its owners had made it that far—as well as writings, drawings, sketches and diagrams for the Anomalies that inhabited the different rings. No Freebooter went into the Strange Lands without their Lexicon, and being without one inside meant certain death.

  Mira slid the thick padded strap over her head and let it rest on her shoulder and cross down her chest. The Lexicon rested comfortably against her hip. It felt good having it back. Without it, she’d always felt like a piece of her was missing.

  “Are you serious about getting the bounty hunter and the little girl to the Tower?” Ben asked.

  “Don’t forget the dog,” Mira said wryly. “He’s coming, too.”

  Ben didn’t laugh, just waited for her answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Ben’s eyes thinned. “Just like you can’t explain your eyes.” He didn’t seem hurt so much as intrigued. “There’s never been anything you couldn’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mira meant it.

  “If I knew the answer, would I risk it?”

  She looked up at him. It was a good question. She guessed the answer was yes. Rationally, getting Zoey to the Tower might be the most important thing anyone had ever done in the Strange Lands, but she still couldn’t risk telling him. Not yet. Or maybe she was still angry with him.

  “I think so,” Mira finally answered.

  Ben nodded. “Then you can all come with the expedition as far as Polestar, but after that it’s too dangerous. I can’t risk the lives of my team.”

  Mira was surprised at the amount of relief she felt, even if Ben had only agreed to take them as far as Polestar. It meant he would lead, he would navigate the Anomalies, he would get them through. It wouldn’t fall to her.

  The moment Mira promised Zoey she would get them all to the Severed Tower, the faintest embers of an emotion had formed inside her. As they left Midnight City, the emotion began to build, growing like a cancer. It was fear, she knew. Fear of having to lead people through the Strange Lands. Like she told Holt, it was something she had done only once, and the memory of what happened still haunted her. The thought of failing Holt or Zoey in that place was petrifying.

  “Thank you, Ben,” she said.

  He just studied her intently. “Do you remember the first time we reached the edge of the Core? And you had to pull me back from going right in.”

  “Yeah. It scared me.”

  “I know. I don’t really f
eel fear. Everything to me is just … patterns and probabilities. Not much else. I see risk, but only enough to factor it into how I act. I don’t feel it.” He gently stroked her cheek with his fingers. “It’s one of the reasons I need you. You’re my … emotional side, Mira. You keep the other parts in check, you balance them. I know now, that’s why the Librarian decided what he did, why he made it so we could only go into the Strange Lands together.”

  She was so accustomed to Ben’s touch, she almost didn’t notice it. In spite of everything, a part of her liked being close to him. It was familiar and comfortable. And that was something she hadn’t felt in awhile.

  “Once we get to Polestar, you’ll come with me,” he continued. “To the Tower. Like we always talked about. You and I against the Core. We can beat it, Mira. I know it.”

  He was right. They were a great team; they always had been. The Librarian had seen that. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to go with him, that the idea of casting off her burdens and promises wasn’t very attractive.

  Why were things never simple?

  5. LINES

  HOLT SAT ON TOP of the thick wing of a ruined C-17 Globemaster, staring at the Crossroads around him as it emptied out, its residents all circling the drain of an uncertain future. As he did, he threw a handful of rocks, one at a time, at the back of an old air tanker, absently listening to the dull sound each made as it dented the rusted metal.

  Zoey was asleep in the plane under him, Max lying next to her. The plane had been retrofitted into a visitors dorm, with three or four sleeping areas. Echo had stayed only long enough to point them to the beds, before he got pulled away into some new conflict. When Zoey fell asleep, Holt climbed up through an opening onto the roof.

  The Crossroads was one of the more unique places he’d been, but it was still familiar. In a way, it was like every other place in the world now. Built on the crumbling remains of the World Before. Nothing was ever new anymore, everything was just repurposed. In its own way, it was inspiring … and sad.