Chapter 22 – Reunion

“Are you sure they’ll be safe?” Cat asked. “I doubt we’ll be this lucky a second time.”

“Trust me, I’m not taking any chances,” Linton assured her. “I contacted someone I hoped I’d never have to see again.” He hesitated, and breathed in deeply to steel himself for what was to come. “My mom.”

Cat blinked. “Quintilla? Really? I thought you…”

“The situation called for it. They’ll be way out of the Concord’s influence with my mom, and she’s powerful enough to protect them.” He added, under his breath: “If she can be asked.”

Linton checked his pocket watch. 8:55. Still no sign of Quintilla.

She had better show up on time, Linton thought bitterly. Although, after a lifetime of disappointments, what’s one more?

Cat, Aeva, and Doc were also present. Aeva patrolled the dock, and Doc watched over the Shipbreaker Sea, which lay shrouded under cover of night.

Skyship Dock 41, one of many in the Seaside district, had been built atop a cliff, with one side open facing the ocean. It had enough room for any ship of moderate size to dock and receive refuel and repair.

Linton had surveyed the dock closely before settling on it as their meeting place. It was privately owned, which was vital. Tess had bribed its owner so that Quintilla could land without the MOW knowing. It was remote, far from any of the other docks. Lastly, it had only one entrance, a narrow road winding up the side of the cliff.

Linton hoped for the best, but he had prepared for the worst. He would have felt better with Hunter and Frost at their side, the former especially, to bolster their fighting capabilities. As things stood, he would simply have to make do.

He thumbed the pistol strapped to his leg, nervous. This hurdle had never been part of his plan. There were many things that could go wrong—the dubious aid of his mother not least among them.

He heard a rumbler engine outside. After a quick look, Aeva reported that someone was coming—not truthers.

A minute later, all four of the captured Granhorns entered the dock. Cat ran up to them with a delighted shriek and gathered both Mavin and Liza in a strangling hug.

“It’s so good to see you again,” Liza said. She showered Cat’s forehead with kisses. “We heard so many rumors while we were in Linvala. We were worried sick.”

“I see you’ve not been eating enough,” Mavin remarked with a disappointed shake of her head.

“You’re not going to be mad about the fact that I’m fighting a rebellion against the government?” Cat asked.

Mavin shrugged. “I was never very invested in politics. I trust you have the right of it, my dear. Although, if not, I shall be very cross with you.”

Linton slowly approached the gathering. Aeva and Doc stayed at a distance, not wanting to interfere.

Sed gave Linton a terse handshake. “Well,” he said. “Here we are. What a mess you’ve made.”

“Nice to see you too, grandpa,” Linton said.

Sed grumbled a string of unintelligible nonsense. After a few seconds of silence, his weathered features softened a little. “You are clever, I grant you. Could have been a military man, gone far, if you hadn’t turned to terrorism.”

Tesman gently steered Sed aside so he could give Linton a hug. He looked awful, cuts and bruises all over. While he wore a clean set of clothes, blood had soaked through the fabric in places. He wore a gun on one hip and a knife on the other. Prepared, as always.

“Feels like it’s been ages, Lin,” Tesman said, smiling. “Although, in reality, it’s hardly been a week, hasn’t it?”

“If we’re lucky, this will all be over soon,” Linton said. “Until then, you’ll be protected.”

“Where will we be going?” Tesman asked. “Your message didn’t explain much.”

“Tumba.”

“The Pirate Capital?” Tesman frowned. “Why…?” He paused. “Oh.”

Linton nodded. “I spoke with Quintilla over transceiver. She should be arriving any moment to pick you up. You’ll be safe in Tumba. I promise.”

“I suppose that might be for the best. I admit, I’ve wondered how Quintilla is getting on.”

He paused. His frown deepened, almost as though he was in pain. Linton reached out to steady him, but Tesman waved him aside.

“I…” Tesman said. “There was something I was supposed to tell you… something important… but it’s all foggy.”

“Slowly, Dad,” Linton said. “You’ve been through a lot.”

He already had some idea of the treatment his family had suffered in that facility. Under Tess’s direction, the newly formed Northmark Rebel had sent agents into the facility to obtain insider footage of the treatment of the detainees. Not only his family had been kept there, but others as well, any who didn’t conform to the MOW.

Tesman suddenly lit up. “Ah! I remember now!”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“You thought you were clever, didn’t you?” he said in a smooth tone that sounded uncharacteristically like someone else. “Allow me to correct you.”

Tesman drew his knife. He grabbed Linton by the back of the neck and slipped the blade into his gut, parting flesh like butter with a soft, wet sensation. He withdrew it and plunged it in again, scraping against his ribs and robbing him of air.

Linton gasped, breath shallow and wheezy, and fell backward onto the floor. His father was on top of him, a blank, almost vacant expression on his face, like a sleepwalker.

Linton grasped for Tesman’s knife hand with both of his to ward off the next blow, but his hands were already weak and shaky. His torso bloomed with pain, sharpened to ragged points at his stomach and chest.

“Skolda!” Linton cried, mouth bubbling with blood.

A patchy hardlight shield appeared around him. The next stab broke through it, shattering the spell, but was slowed enough that that knife only scratched his skin.

Sed tackled Tesman off Linton, and the two grappled on the ground.

Linton’s consciousness was fading. He raged against his weakness.

No. Can’t go out. This was a trap. This…

The fabric of space ripped open into three holes at the other end of the dock, leading to places unknown.

Metallic humanoids stepped out of the whirling portals. Heavy constructs, armed and armored, numbering surely a dozen.

They opened fire.

***

Aeva was the first to leap into action.

The machines brandished automatic rifles, quickly unloading hundreds of bullets. Aeva beseeched her patron deity for protection as she ran towards the line of enemies. Her whole body became wreathed in coiled flames which stuck to her like a second skin. Every bullet that hit her was caught by the shell, added to a growing layer of molten metal across her chest and arms which acted as additional protection.

She reached the first of the machines and slammed into it with all her weight. They were both carried to the floor, and she began to pound the unholy creation’s lifeless face, unblinking eyes staring up at her.

None of this made sense. But it didn’t have to. She would fight, and that was all that mattered.

Aeva pulled back for another punch. The machine snaked out and grabbed her clothing with both hands. It threw her like a ragdoll, and she hurtled several meters before hitting a wall, the force momentarily disrupting her shield. She sank to the floor, gasping for breath.

Meanwhile, Cat leapt into the fray and drew much of the machines’ attention.

“Baku!” she shouted, and three of the machines were knocked back in a fiery explosion. Their plated armor was singed, but they did not fall. Cat raised barrier after barrier to block their gunfire. She slid around the dock with incredible speed, but the machines kept their weapons trained on her.

She wouldn’t withstand that kind of aggression for long.

Aeva rose as soon as she had caught her breath. She beseeched Gisa for a weapon, and when she reached out her hand, a whip of solid flame shot out of her palm and coiled itself around the head of one of the machines. She yanked hard, and the machine stumbled close. She crushed its head between her hands, the metal weakened from the superheated fire.

The machine, however, did not cease. It grasped sightlessly for Aeva with one hand and fired its weapon with the other, spraying bullets all over. No matter how Aeva punished it with her whip, it rose back up.

The core, Linton’s voice echoed in her mind. Go for the chest.

With a flick of her wrist, the fiery whip wrapped itself around Aeva’s hand, forming an improvised gauntlet. She kicked the machine’s weapon away, wound back, and struck the thing in the center of its heavily armored chest. Her fist sank through the metal, and a wave of blue energy sprayed out of the hole.

It fell backward, hit the floor with a heavy thud, and moved no more.

Aeva stepped over its cold remains.

***

Linton couldn’t breathe. Blood in his lungs.

Doc wasn’t close enough, couldn’t run through the gunfire, and Linton was too weak to drag himself over there.

His vision tunneled, and even the pain was fading into numbness. He would only have a few seconds of consciousness.

He cast a minor spell, creating a wedge out of hardlight, and bound the spell so that it wouldn’t dissipate when his direct control ceased. He drove it into the wound in his stomach to staunch his bleeding. The pain made him grind his teeth almost to the point of cracking them, but the pain also brought him back to the present for a few vital moments.

He created a second, smaller wedge, this one for his chest, and drove it in. He cried out, spluttered blood, and the pain made his whole body shake in cramps. His forehead beaded with cold sweat, and his entire body screamed with the lack of oxygen.

He had done all he could. He had tried to help Aeva. The last of his strength was spent.

He couldn’t…

Hold on…

***

Cat was not in control.

It was all she could do to keep herself alive. She had been pressured into a defensive stance, blocking and dodging with no room to counter.

The constructs were sturdier than expected, more so than Hunter, even. A Baku spell had done almost nothing to that heavy armor of theirs.

What should I do? she thought. I’m running out of anima. If I don’t act fast, I…

She slid out of the way of another barrage of gunfire, dipping a little deeper into her already dwindling stores of anima.

What if…?

Linton told me not to use that spell.

She spared a glance behind her. Linton lay bleeding on the floor. Doc, Liza, and Mavin hid behind cover. Tesman was nowhere to be seen, and Sed was firing back at the constructs whenever he had an opening.

Pretty sure this overrides any reservations he might have had.

Cat began gathering red anima, funneling all the power she had left into a single spell.

This was going to be risky.

***

Aeva killed her second machine by pulling out its beating, blue core, a glassy orb the size of a fist. She smashed it on the ground, and the machine fell away dead.

Another living machine stepped through one of the gaping wounds in reality, larger and more brutish than the others, all bulky angles and dull plating. A product of savage ingenuity.

It surveyed the scene with dead eyes. Its gaze settled on Aeva, and while its face did not move, its jaw twitched as if it wished to smile.

“Ah,” the machine spoke. “It’s you. We meet again, at last.”

Aeva recognized the voice, though garbled and metallic.

Storm.

The man who had killed her mother and her tribesmen.

She thought she’d never have her revenge, but here he was, right in front of her.

“I’m so glad you survived,” Aeva whispered, eyes welling with tears. “Thank you, Gjurin, for giving me another chance.”

A scream escaped her throat as she threw herself at what once had been human, now a tormented spirit anchored to a metal shell. Gisa’s power fueled a terrible fire that burned about Aeva’s body, leaving blackened footprints in her wake.

Storm went low to sweep her legs. She jumped, came down swinging. He blocked her blow with a bulky forearm, and the other snaked out with surprising speed, open-palmed, fingers held tightly together. The fingers bit through Gisa’s protection, deep into her flesh. She jerked to the side, roaring with pain.

Storm came after her. Aeva shot a molten slug from her palm which struck the side of his metallic skull, searing away several layers of hardy plating and leaving his face a drooping mask of bitter torment, one glowing eye sparking sporadically.

He barely slowed.

“I, too, have been given a second chance,” Storm said. “You see, I was weak. I deserved to die.”

He went in for a straight. Aeva blocked by catching his arm with both her hands. His fist shot out on a chain, struck her in the face so hard that she felt her bones crack, and retracted back into his wrist.

Aeva stumbled, caught herself against the wall. Her nose gushed blood, lips slick and tasting of bitter iron.

“But I’ve been reborn,” Storm continued. “Reforged. The perfect weapon. You will all know this, you jabbering, tweeting, maddening little birds, before I kill you.”

Storm kicked. Aeva intended to dodge, but she moved too slow. His foot caught her in the stomach, and she flew back into the wall. She doubled over with a gasp. The fire faded from her skin, and Gisa’s warmth was lost, fading someplace out of reach.

Aeva tried to get up, but her body wouldn’t respond. Her limbs shook as she held back vomit.

This is it, she thought. I can’t fight back. I’m done.

I’m sorry, mother.

“Aeva, hit the deck!” Cat shouted over the din.

With her last bit of strength, Aeva let her arms and legs slide out from under her and fell onto her stomach.

***

Cat’s spell was ready. Her fingers arced with barely suppressed anima.

Her last barrier broke, sending shards of hardlight flying everywhere. The constructs had their guns trained on her, ready to kill.

Cat smiled. She put her hands together, palms forward.

“Ila Baku Baku!” she shouted.

A black marble, about the size of an eyeball, shot out of her hands. It flew in a wide arc and landed between the feet of two constructs.

The marble lit up in a dazzling explosion that knocked Cat flat on her back. She was showered with debris that tore up her clothes and cut into her skin.

From the explosion, ten identical marbles were released, shooting off in all directions.

Cat grinned to herself.

It worked.

As the marbles hit the ground, they detonated in a similar fashion, blanketing the entire back half of the dock in a chain of staggered explosions. Half of the roof was torn clean off, its pieces thrown high. Much of the smoke was funneled into the three portals still churning at the far end, leaving the debris to settle.

Cat’s body ached with the strain. She had no anima left to spend, and she had likely overtaxed her body, but it was of no consequence. She had won.

Half a dozen constructs rose out of the rubble, most with their plating blown off to expose the intricate enchantment-work beneath, some with entire limbs missing.

And yet, they stood. One of them towered above all the rest. His laughter rang out over the dock.

“Not quite strong enough, I’m afraid,” Storm spoke. Sed landed two shots, center mass, but he seemed little bothered. “Now, for the—”

A sound cut him off. Low, rumbling.

Growing louder.

Storm turned his gaze to the gaping mouth of the dock.

A long, tapered blade of a skyship hurtled into the dock. It threw up sparks as it skidded over the stone floor, silvery and sleek. One of its elegant wings sheared two of the damaged constructs in half.

The tail end passed just over Cat’s head, thrusters still firing. The ship swerved as it slowed. It came to a complete stop, and the high-pitched whirr of the engines quieted, leaving the dock in anticipatory silence.

Cat struggled to sit, leaned back on her elbows, and came face to face with a name, Quickdraw, written in black, snaking letters on the side of the shining hull.

The remaining four constructs opened fire on the ship. Bullets ricocheted off the hull, leaving barely a scratch.

A slot opened on the underside of the ship, folding into a ramp that extended to the floor.

“I show up a couple minutes late and the whole thing goes to shit,” came a smooth, feminine voice from inside the ship. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed you got started without me.”

A woman stepped off the ramp. She was dark-skinned, long hair worked into a multitude of complex braids, woven with gold and silver and gemstones, and tied at the back of her head in a knot. She wore a set of tight-fitting, well-worn clothing, and a beat-up revolver rested in a holster on her hip.

It could only be one person.

Quintilla Wenezian, Governor of Tumba and the Free Cities.

The Pirate Queen.

Linton’s mother.

Just as the constructs trained their guns on Quintilla, she vanished without a trace. The gunfire hit empty air.

She appeared behind one of the beat-up constructs. She drew her revolver and fired twice into its back. The construct spun to face her, seemingly unscathed.

“Huh,” Quintilla said, looking down at her pistol. “You guys are tougher than you look.” She raised her free hand. “Sena Tano.”

The construct’s torso was shredded by a growing mass of empty black space, swallowing up the metal chassis from within. Quintilla let the spell fade, and what was left of the construct fell to the floor as twisted bits of scrap.

The constructs overcame their confusion and spun around to fire on her, but she vanished once more. She appeared before another construct, staring it dead in its blank face. She touched its forehead with one index finger.

“Lyka,” she said.

The construct disappeared.

Storm let out a garbled growl, turned, and limped into one of the portals. The two remaining fighters dragged several of their comrades through the gaping hole after them. Quintilla let them.

Once they were all dead or gone, Quintilla gave a flick of her wrist, and the portals closed. She breathed a heavy sigh and her shoulders slumped.

“Damn, if those spells aren’t pricey,” she muttered. Then she grinned and reset her revolver in its holster with a grand flourish. “Looks like I pretty much saved the day.”