The Severed Tower

by J. Barton Mitchell

  “I know what you want to say.” Ben stared to the north and the ever-darkening sky there.

  “You sure as hell should.” Mira’s voice quivered. “You know how dangerous it is. You know what it does to everyone who—”

  “Not to me, Mira. It won’t affect me like other people.” He didn’t look at her, just stood there with his hands in his pockets. Mira wondered which one held the Chance Generator. “I couldn’t not use it, not with what’s at stake, and I don’t think it was a coincidence it came to me. I can control it. I’m probably the only one in the world who can.”

  “No.” Mira shut her eyes. “You can’t. Not even you, Ben. It makes you think that, but it’s an illusion.”

  “You don’t understand. Its power is growing, Mira, the farther it goes into the Strange Lands. It stays on for days at a time now. I think once I reach the Core … it’ll be on permanently.”

  Mira stared at his back. Her next words were barely a whisper. “What happened to your team, Ben?”

  He stiffened, hesitated … and said nothing.

  Anger replaced the horror Mira felt seconds earlier. “They’re dead, aren’t they? They died because you used the Chance Generator in the Strange Lands! It killed them in order to profit you! That thing is the reason they’re dead, and if you were thinking straight, you’d see that!”

  Ben finally turned around and looked at Mira, and the sight of him up close was shocking.

  He was pale, looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes, where the Tone wasn’t crawling through them, were bloodshot and raw, and they locked onto hers. “I regret their loss. Never think I don’t. But their sacrifice is anything but meaningless. If I can reach the Tower, it’s worth it.”

  Mira shook her head firmly. “Not like this it isn’t.”

  “You just don’t see the math of it!”

  “There’s no math here, Ben! The math is you don’t even know what the Severed Tower really is. No one does.” She took a step closer, glaring at him. “Do your men know, Ben? Do they know you’re using the abacus? Do they know why they’re dying one by one in random accidents?”

  Ben looked away again.

  Mira’s body shook with suppressed rage. She hated that artifact more than any other, more than even the horrible one she’d created all on her own. It had changed and corrupted one person she cared about, and now it was doing the same thing to another. But she would be damned if she’d let it happen.

  “You have to stop, Ben. If you don’t … I’ll tell your men the truth. Tell them what you’ve done, and that the deaths of their friends are on you. I will, Ben, I swear to God I will, and your expedition will be over. Tell me you understand what I’m saying to you.”

  As she spoke, Ben looked back at her, and something passed over his face. A look she had never seen from him, something so foreign in Ben Aubertine’s eyes it was chilling. She saw rage. Anger. Every black, vile emotion someone could feel drifted in and out of his eyes …

  … and then vanished, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

  He looked at her oddly, studying her as if for the first time, as if he had woken from some sort of dream.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said, and she heard an audible shake in his voice. “Maybe … I can’t control it.”

  Relief flooded through Mira. She moved closer to him. “You’re stronger than this. Holt gave up the artifact, and he had it longer than you. You can do it, too. I’ll help you.”

  Ben stared at her, thoughts swirling in his head. “If I do, will you go to the Tower? Tonight? Will you leave with me?”

  The question startled her. She felt a rush of confusion, mainly because her reaction now was so different from before. She thought of Holt, locked in the jail below with Ravan. There was no way for her to help him now. The truth was, if she wanted to get to the Tower, Ben was her best—maybe her only chance.

  “Yes,” Mira told him. His face lit up in a smile filled with relief and he moved for her, but she stopped him. “Zoey has to come with us.”

  His smile faded. “Mira…”

  “It’s not negotiable. If you want me to come with you to the Tower, like we always talked about—Zoey has to come, too.”

  He studied her a long time, weighing everything, measuring the risks and advantages, doing the math. Finally he nodded. “Okay.”

  Mira threw her arms around him. He hugged her back.

  “Meet me at the Anvil in an hour,” she whispered to him. “I have to destroy my artifact. We’ll destroy the Chance Generator, too, then leave.”

  Ben was confused. “The Chance Generator is a fourth-ring artifact. So are the components in yours. We can’t destroy them here.”

  “I think we’re in the fourth ring, Ben. Right now.” Ben raised an eyebrow at that. “I think the Strange Lands are growing, and I think I know why. I also think it’s going to get worse.”

  Mira watched the old look of curiosity appear, the one he wore when he found something new to solve, something to figure out and break down and understand. It was good to see it.

  “I’ll tell you at the Anvil,” she said. “I’ll tell you everything. Okay?”

  Ben nodded. When they parted, Mira raced back down the walkway towards the infirmary to get her things. She felt light on her feet, and it wasn’t just the low gravity of the Spire. Ben would lead now, she knew. Ben would shoulder the weight of the responsibility she had been carrying, he would take the fear and the worry on himself. Everything would be fine now.

  She laughed as she ran, circling the massive column of light. She didn’t even notice the strange, fragmented hissing sound filling the air from the Gravity Well, or that it seemed worse—much worse, than before.

  28. SACROSANCT

  THE OLD SHERIFF’S OFFICE was still in good condition, probably a result of both the Strange Lands’ slowing of time and the fact that Polestar clearly used it often as a brig. The entire length of the back wall was divided into five cells, with cast-iron bars on one side and the brick wall of the building on the other.

  Outside the cells, the old desks stood collecting dust. Holt could see their things lying well out of reach. Their packs and guns, including his own, and the big, wooden crate that Ravan’s men had been carrying this whole time.

  When they’d arrived, there had only been one other person in the cells, the rest were empty. Now each held four or five Menagerie apiece, and Holt was in the next-to-last one, along with Ravan and two of her men.

  The lone figure in the cell next to them sat in a corner covered in shadows, but it didn’t look like he cared much whether he had company or not. He never even looked in their direction.

  Holt sat with his back against the brick wall, staring up at the skylight at the top of the ceiling, two dozen feet above them and out of reach. It flashed occasionally in different colors, and it was always followed by the rolling, fragmented thunder from outside. That crazy storm was still out there, but it sounded a little farther away now.

  Ravan paced back and forth, staring past the bars. When they’d first arrived, she’d tested them, tried to find weaknesses, looked at the locks, but there was nothing she could do. They were locked up good and tight, but still she paced back and forth like a caged tiger.

  “Sit down, you’re making me queasy,” Holt told her without taking his eyes off the flashing skylight.

  “There’s always a way out,” she replied. “Always.”

  “You never liked being locked up. Only thing I ever saw get to you.”

  “Drives me crazy.” She kicked the door again. It didn’t budge. “Makes me want to tear my eyes out.”

  “I’d prefer you didn’t,” Holt replied pointedly. “Just try to relax. They’ll let us loose once the storms break up. They just don’t want you in the city.”

  She turned and looked at him. “They don’t want us in the city, you mean.”

  She was right. He was in the same cell as them, wasn’t he? He wondered what Mira was doing, wondered if Zoey was okay. Sh
e’d looked bad when he’d been taken away.

  “What are you doing here, Holt?” Ravan asked. She was staring at him in genuine confusion. “It has to do with that kid, doesn’t it? It’s easy to figure. You don’t bring a little girl to a place like this, but that’s what you’re doing, so it has to involve her. She’s the only thing that doesn’t fit.”

  “It’s … complicated.”

  “It must be,” Ravan replied. “Holt Hawkins hates artifacts. Going into the Strange Lands would be the last thing he’d ever do.”

  Holt studied her. She wanted to know the truth. But how did he tell her? “I’m just not sure it’s something you would believe.”

  Pain flashed in Ravan’s eyes again. “Never even crosses your mind, does it? That I might surprise you? If you ever took the time to try, maybe you’d find I’m more than what you think.”

  “Ravan, I didn’t mean—”

  “Just forget it,” she said, and turned back around.

  Watching her, it occurred to him that he had probably hurt Ravan more than anyone else he’d ever known. And he seemed to do it, over and over again. Maybe it was because in his mind, Ravan was indestructible; she could take anything the world dished out, and so he subconsciously gave himself license to disregard her feelings. Yet regardless of the image she presented, Ravan was human, she felt pain. And she deserved better.

  Still, Zoey’s secret was a dangerous one, and the fewer people who knew it, the better. She could stop the Tone, and he didn’t like the idea of the Menagerie pirates around them learning it. Who knew what they were likely to do if they did. Then again, he’d probably never see Mira and Zoey again, or even Max. He was alone now.

  Holt looked back up at Ravan. “Me being here isn’t any more surprising than you being here. Far as I remember, Tiberius was never interested in the Strange Lands.”

  Ravan laughed. “Before you, you mean.”

  Holt stared at her, confused. “Me?”

  “After Archer died, Tiberius had to find another way to preserve his legacy,” Ravan continued, still not looking at him. “And there’s only one other option, isn’t there?”

  The answer occurred to Holt immediately. “Avril,” he said. Ravan didn’t answer him, but she didn’t need to. It was the only thing that made sense. “You’re here to find her?”

  “Already found her,” Ravan said. “Saw her a few days ago, least I think I did. She’s with the White Helix.”

  The White Helix? If Ravan was here for them, Tiberius had basically sent her on a suicide mission. That didn’t make sense, though. Ravan was one of Tiberius’s best leaders, and he was a master strategist. He’d never risk her life lightly, even if it meant getting Avril back. Then again, he was also beyond ruthless.

  “From what I’ve heard, the White Helix don’t strike me like the kind of group who hands over one of their own,” Holt said. “Even if she is the daughter of Tiberius Marseille.”

  “Probably not. But they would trade for her.”

  Instinctively, Holt looked past Ravan, past the bars, to where the Polestar guards had put their gear. Sitting there among it all was the big crate Ravan’s men had been lugging with them this entire time.

  “Any arrangements you have with the White Helix are sacrosanct,” a disapproving voice interrupted them. The figure in the other cell rose to his feet and moved toward Holt and Ravan with the controlled grace of someone used to doing far more agile things than simply walking. “They shouldn’t be discussed openly.”

  Holt could see him clearly now—black and gray clothing, boots, cargo pants, tucked-in shirt, a vest with pockets, utility belts. A boy, eighteen maybe, the Tone creeping through his eyes.

  Ravan studied the boy warily. “Him, I trust. Even if he doesn’t trust me.” Holt guessed he deserved that last bit. “But you … I don’t know at all.”

  The boy leaned casually against the bars. “I was sent as your escort to Sanctum. My name is Chase.”

  “You’re from the White Helix?” Holt asked in surprise. Chase nodded once.

  Ravan frowned. “Well that’s just great, isn’t it? Hell of an escort, if you’re gonna be locked up in the same damn jail we are.”

  Chase smiled. “I might be in the same jail, but I’m not locked up. When the time is right, we’ll leave for Sanctum.”

  Holt studied the boy and his calm, dangerous demeanor. “Are you saying you got caught on purpose—to meet the Menagerie here?”

  The kid shrugged. “You were told you would be met at Polestar, weren’t you? Freebooters and Helix have no love for each other, and finding one alone in the landscape would be irresistible. They would capture him and bring him exactly where he needed to be. It’s always easier to let the water carry you toward your goal, rather than swim against a current.”

  Holt looked at the bruises and cuts on his face. The guards obviously hadn’t been gentle with him. If he considered that the “easy” route, Holt hated to see see a tough one.

  “Fine,” Ravan said in annoyance. The boy’s entrance had had an effect, but she was growing less impressed now. “When will this ‘right time’ be?”

  The Helix shrugged and moved back to his dark corner. “No way to know, but it will come.” He sank down into the shadows again and blended in with them. “The Tower wills it.”

  Holt and Ravan looked at each other skeptically.

  29. NOTHING STAYS THE SAME

  MIRA STOOD AT THE TOP of the Spire—or, at least what was now the top. Above her, the twisted, broken poles and supports that used to hold the Orb jutted outward where it had ripped loose a day ago. It didn’t seem real, staring at the blank air where the massive sphere should be.

  Below her the city twinkled the same as always, buildings and walkways and platforms winding downward toward the ground, around the massive column of bright, flickering energy. Look down and things appeared normal. Look up … and you knew the truth.

  She was here for a reason, she reminded herself. She was at the city’s Anvil.

  An Anvil was a major artifact that facilitated the destruction of other artifacts, and could only be used in the Strange Lands. Artifacts could only be destroyed in the ring where they were created, or, in the case of a combination, only in the ring of their most powerful component. As a result, there were several Anvils in every ring, most set up along the main routes for easy access. After all, you didn’t want to travel all the way to Polestar to destroy a first-ring combination.

  Polestar’s Anvil stood on an open-air platform of polished wood and steel, surrounded by the various buildings of the city’s temporary housing—small huts built on top of each other a thousand feet above the ground, with ladders and bridges connecting them for visiting Freebooters. The platform itself stretched diagonally a hundred feet away from the main support structure, balanced on nothing more than a few thin, metal pipes, something that would have been impossible in normal gravity. The whole thing looked like it should rip loose and fall, but it didn’t.

  Mira looked at the artifact in front of her. An Anvil was just that, an old anvil from a blacksmith’s forge. Metallic shelves sat next to this one, holding a variety of antique mallets. Any one of them would do the job. Place an artifact on the Anvil, take a mallet and slam it down. Any artifact or combination would shatter into pieces, provided they were in the right ring.

  Mira set her packs and Lexicon on the platform, then pulled out her artifact combination, with the old pocket watch in the center. She set it on the black, scarred surface of the Anvil and stared at it, a complicated mix of emotions washing over her. She felt nothing but horror and regret when she looked at it now. In a way, this was the culmination of a long journey, one set in motion months ago. When she destroyed her artifact, it would be yet another turning point.

  “Mira,” a voice said behind her. Ben stood at the edge of the platform where the walkway connected to it. In his hand was the Chance Generator.

  Ben looked even more tired than before. Pale and weak. She wondered if he wo
uld even recognize himself. Once he destroyed that artifact, he would be okay, she told herself. He had to be. She needed him to be.

  “I’m glad you came,” she said.

  Ben stared back at her. “Are you … really sure about this?”

  Mira nodded. “Any advantage that thing gives you is offset by what it takes. It’s not worth the price. I’ve lost a lot to it already, and so have you, you just don’t see it yet. I need you to trust me, Ben.”

  “I do trust you. You always see things so clearly.” Ben moved toward her wearily. “It’s one reason … why I love you, Mira.”

  Mira froze at the words. In all their time together, after all they had been through, he had never said those words to her.

  She didn’t know what to say. “Ben…”

  He moved closer. His hands gently pulled the necklaces from her shirt. His fingers divided them, one after the other, until they found the one he was looking for. The small pair of brass dice.

  “Do you remember the night I gave you this?” he asked her.

  Mira nodded.

  “Do you remember what I told you when I did?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes looked up from the necklace into hers. “I know this is going to seem like a betrayal, and like a contradiction to everything I told you then—but it isn’t. I promise.”

  She studied him in confusion. What did he mean by—

  Mira flinched as Ben snapped another necklace off her neck. The Gravity Void combination she always wore for emergencies. Before she could react, he took a step back—and threw it onto the platform at her feet.

  The glass vial on the combination shattered. There was a flash and a hum—and then Mira gasped as she was yanked up into the air in a blur of ascending light particles, spinning helplessly in a sphere of zero gravity.

  “Ben!” she yelled, trying to reach something, but there was nothing she could grab, she just floated helplessly. The Anvil and its shelves were out of reach. She was trapped. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, but a part of her already knew.