Steelheart

by Brandon Sanderson

  What had I …

  My light fell on a woman standing quietly in front of me. Beautiful hair I knew would be golden if I were seeing it under normal light. A face that seemed too perfect, tinged blue in the UV beam, as if sculpted from ice by a master artist. Curves and full lips, large eyes. Eyes I knew.

  Megan.

  37

  BEFORE I had a chance to do more than gape, the shadows around me started to writhe. I dodged to the side as several of them speared through the air where I’d been standing. Though it seemed as if Nightwielder could animate shadows, really he exuded a black mist that pooled in darkness. That was what he could manipulate.

  He could have very fine control over a few tendrils of it, but usually he opted for large numbers of them, probably because it was more intimidating. Controlling so many was more difficult, and he could basically just grab, constrict, or stab. Every patch of darkness around me started forming spears that sought my blood.

  I dodged between them, eventually having to roll to the ground to get under a group of attacks. Doing a dodging roll on a steel floor is not a comfortable experience. When I came up, my hip was smarting.

  I leaped over several of the steel crowd control stanchions, sweating and shining my flashlight at any suspicious shadows. I couldn’t turn it all directions at once, though, and I had to keep spinning to avoid the ones at my back. I paid vague attention to the chatter from the other Reckoners in my ear, though I was too busy trying to not be killed to digest much of it. It seemed that things were in chaos. Prof had revealed himself to hold Steelheart’s attention; Abraham had been located because of his shot to save me. Both he and Cody were on the run, fighting Enforcement soldiers.

  A blast rocked the stadium, the sound traveling down the hallway and washing over me like stale cola through a straw. I threw myself over the last of the steel stanchions and found myself shining the light frantically about me to stop spear after spear of blackness.

  Megan was no longer where she’d been standing. I could almost believe she’d been a trick of my mind. Almost.

  I can’t keep this up, I thought as a black spear struck my jacket and was rebuffed by the shielding. I could feel the hit through my sleeve, and the diodes on the jacket were beginning to flash. This jacket seemed a lot weaker than the one I’d worn before. Maybe it was a prototype.

  Sure enough, the next spear that caught me ripped through the jacket and sliced my skin. I cursed, shining the light on another patch of inky, oily blackness. Nightwielder was going to have me soon if I didn’t change tactics.

  I had to fight smarter. Nightwielder has to be able to see me to use his spears on me, I thought. So he was nearby—yet the hallway seemed empty.

  I stumbled, which saved me from a spear that nearly took off my head. Idiot, I thought. He could move through walls. He wouldn’t just stand in the open; he’d barely be peeking out. All I needed to do was …

  There! I thought, catching a glimpse of a forehead and eyes peering out from the far wall. He looked pretty stupid, actually, like a kid in the deep end of a pool thinking he was invisible because he was mostly submerged.

  I shined the light on him and tried to get a shot off at the same time. Unfortunately I’d switched hands so I could have the flashlight in my right hand—which meant I was firing with my left. Have I mentioned my thoughts on pistols and their accuracy?

  The shot went wild. Like, way wild. Like I came closer to hitting a bird flying above the stadium outside than I did Nightwielder. But the flashlight worked. I wasn’t sure what would happen if his powers vanished while he was phasing through an object. Unfortunately it looked like it didn’t kill him—his face was jerked back through the wall as he became corporeal again.

  I didn’t know what was on the other side of that wall. It was opposite the field. Was he outside, then? I couldn’t stop to look up the map on my phone. Instead I ran for a nearby concession stand. We’d dug a tunnel through there, wrapping down through the floor. Hopefully, if I could keep moving while Nightwielder was outside, he’d have trouble tracking me down once he peeked in again.

  I got into the concession stand and crawled inside the tunnel. “Guys,” I whispered into my mobile as I moved, “I saw Megan.”

  “You what?” Tia asked.

  “I saw Megan. She’s alive.”

  “David,” Abraham said. “She’s dead. We all know this.”

  “I’m telling you I saw her.”

  “Firefight,” Tia said. “He’s trying to get to you.”

  As I crawled I felt a sharp sinking feeling. Of course—an illusion. But … something felt wrong about that.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The eyes were right. I don’t think an illusion could be that detailed—that lifelike.”

  “Illusionists wouldn’t be worth much if they weren’t able to create realistic puppets,” Tia said. “They need to— Abraham, not left! The other way. In fact, throw a grenade down there if you can.”

  “Thanks,” he said, puffing slightly. I could hear an explosion twice—once through his microphone. A distant portion of the stadium shook. “Phase three is a failure, by the way. I got a shot off on Steelheart right after I revealed myself. It didn’t do anything.”

  Phase three was Prof’s theory—that one of the Faithful could hurt Steelheart. If Abraham’s bullets had bounced off, then it wasn’t viable. We only had two other ideas. The first was my theory of crossfire; the other was the theory that my father’s gun or bullets were in some way special.

  “How’s Prof holding up?” Abraham asked.

  “He’s holding up,” Tia said.

  “He’s fighting Steelheart,” Cody said. “I’ve only been able to see a little, but— Sparks! I’m going offline for a moment. They’re almost on me.”

  I crouched in the narrow tunnel, trying to sort through what was happening. I could still hear a lot of gunfire and the occasional blast.

  “Prof’s keeping Steelheart distracted,” Tia said. “We still don’t have any confirmed crossfire hits, though.”

  “We’re trying,” Abraham said. “I’ll get this next group of soldiers to follow me around the corridor, and then let Cody goad them into firing across the field at him. That might work. David, where are you? I might need to set off a distraction blast or two to flush out the soldiers behind cover on your side.”

  “I’m taking the second concessions tunnel,” I said. “I’ll be coming out on the ground floor, near the bear. I’ll head westward after that.” The bear meant a giant stuffed bear that had been part of some promotion during the football season, but which was now frozen in place like everything else.

  “Got it,” Abraham said.

  “David,” Tia said. “If you saw an illusion, it means you’ve got both Firefight and Nightwielder on you. On one hand that’s good—we were wondering where Firefight ran off to. It’s bad for you, though—you’ve got two powerful Epics to deal with.”

  “I’m telling you, that wasn’t an illusion,” I said, cursing as I tried to juggle the gun and the flashlight. I searched in my cargo pocket, fishing out my industrial tape. My father had told me to always keep that industrial tape handy; I’d been surprised, as I grew older, how good that advice had been. “She was real, Tia.”

  “David, think about that for a moment. How would Megan have gotten here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe they … did something to revive her.…”

  “We flash-burned everything in the hideout. She’d have been cremated.”

  “There would have been DNA, maybe,” I said. “Maybe they have an Epic who can bring someone back or something like that.”

  “Durkon’s Paradox, David. You’re searching too hard.”

  I finished taping the flashlight to the side of the barrel of my rifle—not on the top, as I wanted to be able to use the sights. That left the weapon off balance and clunky, but I felt I’d still be better with it than the handgun. I stuffed that into its holster under my arm.

  Dur
kon’s Paradox referred to a scientist who had studied and pondered the Epics during the early days. He’d pointed out that, with Epics breaking known laws of physics, literally anything was possible—but he warned against the practice of theorizing that every little irregularity was caused by an Epic’s powers. Often that kind of thinking led to no actual answers.

  “Have you ever heard of an Epic who could restore another person to life?” Tia said.

  “No,” I admitted. Some could heal, but none could reanimate someone else.

  “And weren’t you the one who said we were probably facing an illusionist?”

  “Yes. But how would they know what Megan looked like? Why wouldn’t they use Cody or Abraham to distract me, someone they know is here?”

  “They would have her on video from the Conflux hit,” Tia said. “They’re using her to confuse you, unhinge you.”

  Nightwielder had nearly killed me while I was staring at the phantom Megan.

  “You were right about Firefight,” Tia continued. “As soon as that fire Epic was out of sight of the Enforcement officers, it vanished from my video feeds. That was just an illusion, meant to distract. The real Firefight is someone else. David, they’re trying to play you so that Nightwielder can kill you. You have to accept this. You’re letting your hopes cloud your judgment.”

  She was right. Sparks, but she was right. I halted in the tunnel, breathing in and out deliberately, forcing myself to confront it. Megan was dead. Now Steelheart’s minions were playing with me. It made me angry. No, it made me furious.

  It also brought up another problem. Why would they risk revealing Firefight like that? Letting him vanish after getting out of sight when it was likely we had the place under surveillance? Using an illusion of Megan? These things exposed Firefight for what he was.

  That gave me a chill. They knew. They knew we were on to them, so they didn’t need to pretend. They also knew where we’d placed the UV floodlights, I thought, and where some of us were hiding.

  Something strange was going on. “Tia, I think—”

  “Will you fools stop blathering,” Prof said, his voice rough, harsh. “I need to concentrate.”

  “It’s all right, Jon,” Tia said comfortingly. “You’re doing all right.”

  “Bah! Idiots. All of you.”

  He’s using the tensors, I thought. It’s almost like they turn him into another person.

  There wasn’t time to think about that. I simply hoped we all lived long enough for Prof to apologize. I climbed out of the tunnel behind some tall steel equipment cases and panned my rifle with mounted flashlight around the corridor.

  I was saved from the strike by a fluke. I thought I saw something in the distance, and I lunged toward it, trying to get more light on it. As I did, three spears of darkness struck at me. One sliced clean through the back of my jacket and cut a line through my flesh. Just another fraction of an inch and it would have severed my spine.

  I gasped, spinning around. Nightwielder stood nearby in the cavernous room. I fired a shot at him, but nothing happened. I cursed, getting closer, rifle to my shoulder and the UV light streaming before me.

  Nightwielder smiled a devilish grin as I put a bullet through his face. Nothing. The UV wasn’t working. I froze in place, panicked. Was I wrong about his weakness? But it had worked before. Why—

  I spun about, barely stopping a group of spears. The light dispersed them as soon as it touched them, so it was still working. So what was happening?

  Illusion, I thought, feeling stupid. Slontze. How many times am I going to fall for that? I scanned the walls. Sure enough, I caught a glimpse of Nightwielder staring out from one of them toward me. He pulled back before I could fire, and the darkness fell motionless again.

  I waited, sweating, focused on that point. Maybe he’d peer out again. The fake Nightwielder was just to my right, looking impassive. Firefight was in the room somewhere. Invisible. He could gun me down. Why didn’t he?

  Nightwielder peeked out again, and I fired, but he was gone in an eyeblink and the shot ricocheted off the wall. He’d probably come at me from another direction, I decided, so I took off running. As I ran I swiped the butt of my gun through the fake Nightwielder. As I expected, it passed right through, the apparition wavering faintly like a projected image.

  Explosions sounded. Abraham cursed in my ear.

  “What?” Tia asked.

  “Crossfire doesn’t work,” Cody said. “We got a big group of soldiers to fire on each other through the smoke, without their realizing that Steelheart was in the middle.”

  “At least a dozen shots hit him,” Abraham said. “That theory is dead. I repeat, accidental fire does not hurt him.”

  Calamity! I thought. And I’d been so sure about that theory. I ground my teeth, still running. We’re not going to be able to kill him, I thought. This is all going to be meaningless.

  “I’m afraid that I can confirm,” Cody said. “I saw the bullets hit too, and he didn’t even notice.” He paused. “Prof, you’re a machine. Just thought I’d say that.”

  Prof’s only response was a grunt.

  “David, how are you handling Nightwielder?” Tia asked. “We need you to activate phase four. Shoot Steelheart with your father’s gun. It’s all we have left.”

  “How am I handling Nightwielder?” I asked. “Poorly. I’ll get out there when I can.” I continued jogging down the large, open concourse beneath the seating. Maybe if I could get outside I’d have a better time of it. There were too many hiding places in here.

  He was waiting for me when I came out of that tunnel, I thought. They’ve got to be listening in on our conversations. That’s how they knew so much about our initial setup.

  That, of course, was impossible. Mobile signals were unhackable. The Knighthawk Foundry made sure of that. And beyond that, the Reckoners were on their own network.

  Except …

  Megan’s mobile. It was still connected to our network. Had I ever mentioned to Prof and the others that she’d lost it in the fall? I’d assumed it was broken, but if it hadn’t been …

  They listened in on our preparations, I thought. Did we mention over the lines that Limelight wasn’t real? I thought hard, trying to remember our conversations over the last three days. I came up blank. Maybe we’d talked about it, but maybe not. The Reckoners tended to be circumspect about their conversations over the network, just to be extra careful.

  Further speculation was cut off as I spotted a figure in the hallway in front of me. I slowed, rifle to shoulder, drawing a bead on it. What would Firefight try this time?

  Another image of Megan, just standing there. She wore jeans and a tight red button-up shirt—but no Reckoner jacket—her golden hair pulled back in a shoulder-length ponytail. Wary, in case Nightwielder attacked me from behind, I moved past the illusion. It watched me with a blank expression but didn’t move otherwise.

  How could I find Firefight? He’d be invisible, probably. I wasn’t certain he had that power, but it made sense.

  Ways of revealing an invisible Epic ran through my mind. Either I had to listen for him or I had to fog the air with something. Flour, dirt, dust … maybe I could use the tensor somehow? Sweat trickled down my brow. I hated knowing that someone was watching me, someone I couldn’t see.

  What to do? My initial plan to deal with Firefight had been to reveal I knew his secret, to scare him off as I had Nightwielder during the Conflux hit. That wouldn’t work now. He knew we were on to him. He needed to see the Reckoners dead to hide his secret. Calamity, Calamity, Calamity!

  The illusion of Megan turned its head, following me as I tried to watch all corners of the room and listen for movement.

  The illusion frowned. “I know you,” she said.

  It was her voice. I shivered. A powerful Epic illusionist would be able to create sounds with their images, I told myself. I know that’s true. No need to be surprised.

  But it was her voice. How did Firefight know her voice?

&n
bsp; “Yes …,” she said, walking toward me. “I do know you. Something about … about knees.” Her eyes narrowed at me. “I should kill you now.”

  Knees. Firefight couldn’t know about that, could he? Had Megan called me that name over the mobile? They couldn’t have been listening back then, could they?

  I wavered, my gun’s sights on her. The illusion. Or was it Megan? Nightwielder would be coming. I couldn’t just stand there, but I couldn’t run either.

  She was walking toward me. Her arrogant expression made her look like she owned the world. Megan had acted like that before, but there was something more here. Her bearing was more confident, even though she had pursed her lips, perplexed.

  I had to know. I had to.

  I lowered the gun and leaped forward. She reacted, but too slowly, and I grabbed her arm.

  It was real.

  A second later, the hallway exploded.

  38

  I coughed, rolling over. I was on the ground, my ears ringing. Bits of trash burned nearby. I blinked away the afterimages in my eyes, shaking my head.

  “What was that?” I croaked.

  “David?” Abraham said in my ear.

  “An explosion,” I said, groaning and pulling myself up to my feet. I looked around the hallway. Megan. Where was she? I couldn’t see her anywhere.

  She’d been real. I had felt her. That meant it wasn’t an illusion, right? Was I losing my mind?

  “Calamity!” Abraham said. “I thought you were down the other end of the concourse. You said you’d go westward!”

  “I ran to get away from Nightwielder,” I said. “I ran the wrong way. I’m a slontze, Abraham. Sorry.”

  My rifle. I saw the stock sticking out of a nearby pile of trash. I pulled it out. The rest of the gun wasn’t attached. Sparks! I thought. I’m having a devil of a time holding on to these lately.