The Gauntlet

by Megan Shepherd

  They weren’t firing.

  Not yet.

  Only making that strange crisscross mark out of exhaust.

  He started running toward the sheriff’s office, hobbling on his hurt leg. He threw open the door and grabbed the map he’d made of the town, unrolling it in a hurry on his desk. He traced a finger over the approximate pattern of those crisscrossing exhaust lines, muttering the coordinates under his breath.

  His eyes went wide. “Oh, no.”

  He grabbed the map and hobbled outside as fast as he could. His pulse pounded in his ears as he made his way toward the truck Nok and Loren had been loading with weapons. Nok was in the town square now, yelling orders for the citizens to uncover the hidden weapons and start firing.

  “Get those pilots safely to the ships!” she yelled. “Cover them!”

  “Nok!” Rolf’s hurt leg buckled beneath him and he crashed to the ground. “Nok!”

  She saw him and gasped. She started running toward him. She didn’t see the Axion ship lining up directly behind her. Time seemed to slow as she ran. Rolf took in every terrifying half second. A light turned on beneath the Axion ship. A laser weapon was powering up. They were going to fire. Nok was running as fast as she could, but not fast enough. The past few months flashed just as fast in his head: The first time he’d met her. Their first kiss. The moment she told him she was pregnant. Learning he was going to be a father of a little girl.

  “Nok!” Rolf cried.

  She wasn’t going to make it.

  At the same time, someone shot out from the awning of the general store, slamming into her, knocking her out of the way of the laser pulses. Time sped up again as sand blasted into the air. Rolf shoved to his one good leg, hobbling and coughing as he made his way to her. “Nok!”

  She coughed out his name weakly. “Rolf?”

  Thank god.

  He hobbled through the scorched sand to where she crouched on hands and knees, dirt streaking her face, turning her dark hair sandy.

  Dane sat up next to her, coughing. Rolf’s surprise that Dane had been the one to save her was eclipsed by his worry. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she breathed. “Sparrow—I think she’s okay too.”

  Rolf grabbed her, pulling her to him. He breathed in the smell of her hair, somehow sweet and strawberry even now.

  He’d come so close to losing her.

  “Come on.” Dane grabbed at their jackets. “Up. Now. Take cover.”

  A shriek tore through the sky. Rolf pitched his head up to see the Axion ships circling back around for another attack. Dane helped both of them to their feet and threw one of Rolf’s arms around his shoulders to help him hobble to the general store. Overhead, the whine of ships grew deafening.

  The Axion ships fired again, hot blasts of laser pulses shattering the remnants of the dance hall. Someone screamed. An explosion ripped through the town as they flung themselves into the shade of the general store.

  “They’re targeting the town!” Dane said.

  Rolf shook his head. “It isn’t the town they’re targeting.”

  “What?” Both Nok and Dane stared at him in confusion. The Axion ships had doubled back, firing again. Bodies littered the town square. Billows of black smoke rose from the smoldering wreckage.

  “Firing on the town is just a distraction,” Rolf explained through heaving breaths, “just like we tried to distract them into thinking the town was the place to hit.” He pointed up at the white lines of exhaust that crisscrossed overhead. “That’s their real strategy. They’re making a bull’s-eye.” He dragged the map out of his pocket and unfolded it on the ground, crossing lines over it to match the white clouds of exhaust. “See?” he asked. “The target points to one place.”

  He slid his forefinger to the transport hub.

  “We were so stupid,” he continued. “Of course they knew about the reactor core. The impostor Fian was here, on the ground. He was even in that transport hub! Brother Paddal didn’t know that, but we should have remembered. The Axion know they can take us out with just one blast, if it’s perfectly targeted. That’s what they’re doing.”

  Nok gaped.

  “We have to stop them,” Dane said.

  Anger suddenly flooded Rolf. “You wanted to join them, you bastard!”

  Dane’s face twisted in anger too. “I wanted to save us! I still do!”

  Rolf paused, breathing hard. Was there a chance Dane really wasn’t as bad as he seemed? He’d saved Nok’s life a moment ago. Even at risk to himself . . .

  “Shut up, both of you,” Nok snapped. She pointed to the reactor core on the map. “We need to figure out how to keep them from blowing it up.”

  Rolf looked at her. God, she was beautiful. The badge glistening around her neck, her face streaked with dirt, her belly round.

  He had once wondered what it meant to be a good father. Now, feeling such certainty in his chest, he knew. It meant love. Pure, radiant, encompassing love.

  A love he would do anything for.

  Overhead, the Axion ships let out another volley of pulses. Nok shrieked, and everyone ducked.

  Rolf grabbed up the map. “There’s only one way to make sure they don’t hit the reactor core. You heard Brother Paddal. A manual shutoff.”

  Dane and Nok both stared at him. “The radiation’s too high,” Nok said. “If someone climbed in there, they’d be—”

  “They’d be a hero,” Rolf said quietly.

  The look on Nok’s face turned to one of dawning horror, which quickly turned to anger. He could see her brain working. See her put together that the only person who had studied the maps and knew enough about reactors to be able to shut it down was him.

  She lunged for him. “Don’t you dare!”

  Dane grabbed her, holding her back.

  Rolf had already snatched up a wrench from the pile of abandoned construction tools. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He felt dizzy, as though this were a dream. As though it weren’t really he who was going to climb into that reactor core, but a dream-Rolf, a second self. The real Rolf wasn’t brave. The real Rolf wasn’t a hero.

  And yet, for Nok and Sparrow, he’d be anything.

  “Rolf!” Nok strained against Dane. “Don’t do this!”

  “Dane.” Rolf met the boy’s eyes. He was far from trusting him, and yet in this instant, he believed that Dane really did want to keep them all alive. Dane was a scared boy with something to prove, but not cruel. Just determined. And right now, Rolf could use him. “Keep her here. Don’t let her come after me.”

  Dane paused, a flicker of doubt in his eyes, as though he too wanted to talk Rolf out of it. “You don’t have to do this,” Dane said.

  “Yes,” Rolf said. He pushed at phantom glasses he no longer wore. “I do.”

  He headed across the town square, his steps feeling too light, as though all the blood were rushing to his head.

  “No!” Nok cried. “Rolf, you jerk, you bastard, you get back here, I love you, I need you!”

  His breath came fast.

  He wouldn’t look back.

  He wouldn’t.

  “I love you too, Nok,” he whispered very quietly. “More than anything.”

  The general store door slammed behind him, and then he was in the thick of battle. Armed citizens were firing on the Axion ships, trying to take cover in the wreckage. A laser pulse caught one in the head, and she screamed as she crumpled to the ground.

  Rolf froze as the dead body fell at his feet.

  He was really doing this crazy thing? He was going to shut down the reactor core?

  He stumbled forward on his good leg, wincing through the pain. Yes. He was going to save the town, dammit. He was going to save Nok, and Sparrow, and do this so that they would have a place to call theirs. So that Nok would have a chance for happiness. So that Sparrow would grow into a little girl. So that many years from now, Nok would cradle their daughter in her arms and tell her bedtime stories about how their father had saved their
lives. Another pulse of lasers exploded just a few paces away and he collapsed to the ground, breathing hard.

  Ahead of him was the vent that led to the reactor core.

  With shaking limbs, he crawled forward and tore off the vent grate. The sound of cries came from behind him: the pilots making a run for the ships.

  He plunged into the darkness of the vent. Steam burned his skin, but he knew it was nothing compared with the burn of core radiation ahead. He crawled beyond the red warning labels. He could hear the battle raging outside. Laser pulses against laser pulses.

  He kept crawling. He reached the inner core, and an alarm started droning.

  Evacuate, the voice said. Evacuate. Radiation levels high.

  Was it just in his head, or could he already feel his eyes burning? His vision went blurry, but there. Ahead. A small panel held together with screws. He crawled forward, slower now, his breathing strained. His stomach was heavy with sudden nausea, but he fought through it.

  He used his last ounce of strength to open the panel with the wrench.

  The manual shutdown.

  He twisted the lever.

  I love you, Nok.

  He slumped in the warmth of the darkened tunnel. The hum of the reactor core slowly shut down and then stopped.

  Silence.

  I love you, Sparrow. I’ll be looking down on you. I’ll be your proud father, always.

  The tunnel was growing warmer.

  He could hear the distant sounds of the battle raging outside. Ships against ships. The Kindred and Mosca and Gatherers fighting off the Axion. The crash of lasers in the air.

  Was it only in his head, or did he hear the town cheering too?

  Arm-strong! Arm-strong!

  His eyelids sank closed.

  He smiled.

  The cheers changed in his head. Ro-lf! Ro-lf!

  Such a beautiful sound, them cheering his name. He pictured Nok, with their daughter in her arms, both of them pumping their fists toward the sky, smiles radiant on their beautiful faces, his name on their lips.

  Ro-lf! Ro-lf!

  His eyes did not open again.

  38

  Cora

  “CASSIAN, STOP! IT’S ME!”

  Cora scrambled away from Cassian’s raised fist. The metal grates on the floor were painful on her bare palms, but all she could focus on was the awful realization that Cassian thought she was his enemy. In the puzzle chamber mirrors, Fian’s angry face looked back instead of her own reflection. Her hand grazed the painted red circle near the edge of the room and an alarm blared. She jerked her hand back, and it stopped.

  She noticed drawings of sparring pairs on the walls above the mirrors. Puzzle ten, she realized, was a wrestling ring.

  A physical challenge.

  Though she’d lost all specific memories of attending wrestling matches back home or watching them on television, she still vaguely remembered the rules. The first wrestler to push their opponent outside the red circle won. Though it was a physical puzzle, its true challenge was clear: Cassian didn’t recognize her.

  “Listen,” she said, eyeing the red circle to make sure she stayed within it, “I know I don’t look like me, but it’s Cora.” Her voice came out unnaturally deep. She gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. Different words had come out.

  “It’s too late,” her voice had said. “The Gauntlet’s broken. We’ve caught the girl. There’s no reason for you to live.”

  She gaped. The Gauntlet’s illusions hadn’t changed just her appearance—it had changed the very words she’d said. She searched her mind, calling on the paragon burst for a solution, but there was no answer. Humanity was as stumped as she was.

  “Then try to stop me,” Cassian replied. “Try to keep her from me.”

  He started forward. Cora let out a shriek. Her heart was raging as hard as the storm outside. But Cassian was moving slowly, not yet recovered from his near drowning. He blinked as though his vision was blurry. She scrambled away as he lunged for her, moving with sharper reflexes than she’d ever had before. Though she should have been exhausted, her muscles felt strangely powerful.

  Leon, she realized. Thank god for the paragon burst. Without Leon’s DNA to boost her physical strength, she wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  “You can’t . . . get away . . . ,” Cassian said, his movements labored. He doubled over and coughed up more water. A pang of both fear and sympathy hit her. She was, in a terrible way, grateful that he’d almost died. On any other day he’d be able to defeat her easily, but he was unnaturally weakened, and she was unnaturally strengthened. For the first time, they were well matched physically.

  “Cassian . . . ,” she started, but let her words fall. It was useless. The Gauntlet would just create an illusion around whatever she said. There was no reasoning with him. No convincing him of the truth. This was a physical puzzle, and the only way to win was to defeat it—to defeat him.

  She nearly blacked out at the impossibility of getting him outside the red line through sheer strength. Cassian was exceptionally well built, even for a Kindred. He towered nearly a foot and a half above her, and he had to weigh three times her weight.

  But she was desperate.

  She took a deep breath, trying to focus. Blood still trickled from his left arm. He was trying to hide how much it hurt him, but she hadn’t seen him lift it, not even ball his left hand into a fist. So he wouldn’t be swinging any punches from that side, at least.

  He wiped water from his face, then lurched forward.

  She held her ground, breathing hard. He was slower than usual. His steps were sluggish and heavy, almost as though he were drunk. He grabbed for her as she darted to the left, and his right hand only grazed her bare arm. With both of them still soaking wet, their skin was slippery. She filed that information away as she ducked toward his left side again, knowing that arm was useless.

  Use it, Leon’s voice grunted. Hurt him. You have to.

  Before she could stop herself, she shoved her elbow straight into the gaping wound on Cassian’s left shoulder.

  He screamed. She cried out too, wishing she didn’t have to hurt him, but she didn’t have a choice. She slammed her elbow into his arm again, shocked by her own enhanced strength. Was this how Leon felt all the time, so powerful? Cassian crumpled to the floor, catching himself with his right arm at the last moment.

  Keep going, Leon’s voice hummed. Don’t stop.

  She shoved her shoulder into his side, trying to throw him off-balance so she could push him out of the red ring. But she only managed to shove him a few inches before she tripped on the grate. Just that second of hesitation was all Cassian needed to grab her with his right hand, catching her by surprise, and swing her to the floor. Her head connected painfully with the grates as the wind rushed out of her.

  “That’s for Cora,” Cassian hissed.

  “I’m not an Axion,” she said, though she knew it was useless. “I’m—”

  “You’re dead,” Cassian said. “But I’m going to make you suffer first.” He grabbed her wrists, twisting them over her head, and then straddled her middle, digging her back against the grates. She tried to pull her hands from his, but even with Leon’s DNA, she was no match for a Kindred. With her arms pinned, she couldn’t punch him in his wounded arm. She couldn’t throw him off-balance like this, not while trapped underneath him. . . .

  Wait.

  A moment of déjà vu hit her, and her heart started to thump. This was the wrestling position Lucky had taught her in the cage’s desert maze. He had explained how when an opponent was much bigger, she couldn’t rely on any feats of strength. She had to use her own weight against him through momentum. The paragon burst projected visions into her head. Her own sparring match with Lucky. Ancient tribes fighting in a desert. High schoolers in a gymnasium wrestling match. Leon beating up some poor kid in a movie theater parking lot.

  Now, she told herself.

  She shoved her hips upward, catching Cassian by surprise. She
shifted herself to the left, throwing him off-balance. Then it was simply a matter of using his own heavy weight to tip him forward, as she scrambled out from under him. He landed hard on his left arm, giving a ragged cry.

  Cora winced at the sound of blood from his wounded arm dripping down to the floor below.

  He tossed his head up, pure rage in his eyes.

  Use his momentum against him. She heard the echo of Leon’s voice in her head.

  As Cassian stood, Cora balled her fists. She spared a quick glance at the floor—the red line was directly behind her. If she stepped back just one inch, the alarm would go off again. Two inches, and she’d lose. But now she realized the nature of the game worked in her favor. Cassian didn’t care about winning a puzzle or wrestling matches. He cared only about killing her—the Axion he thought she was—and that meant he didn’t care about stepping outside any lines.

  “Come on,” she goaded. The room was cold, and her soaked, clammy clothes made her shiver. “Come and get me.”

  For once, the Gauntlet didn’t change her words.

  “Gladly,” Cassian replied.

  He rushed at her.

  She stood her ground. She waited as he barreled toward her, closer . . . closer . . . his right hand pulled back . . .

  And then she ducked with quickened reflexes at the last minute, rolling away from the red line.

  “Coward!” Cassian yelled, wheeling to a stop.

  Cora landed on her back and kicked out her legs as hard as she could, connecting with his knees. He staggered backward a single step.

  It was enough.

  He crossed the red line.

  The alarm started blaring. It droned steadily as all the lights overhead turned red, tinting the room the color of blood. Cassian spun around as if this were some new danger. His eyes settled on Cora.

  He froze.

  She lay on her back in the middle of the room, panting. She tensed her muscles, ready in case he attacked again.

  His voice was tentative, confused. “Cora?”

  She turned to the mirror. The red light was cast down not over the reflection of an Axion impostor, but over a girl in black clothes, hair wild, eyes even wilder.

  “Cora?” he said again. This time panic filled his voice. The alarm stopped blaring, but neither of them seemed to notice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a door open in the right-hand wall.