39. The Battle of Mount Saint Helens (II)

There was only one thing to try. The last thing Avery told him—"Get out of here." But where? He was stuck in a valley, and everywhere he looked there were soldiers.

He was trapped.

"Smile, you're on camera!" said Clay. He bared a nasty, gap-toothed grin. "Any last words?"

The strong ones—the Lieutenants, the General—were mostly to the front and to his left. Behind him the lines were thinner. And a good thing too.

Behind him was the only place he could hide. The second floor.

There, maybe there were corridors where he could hold them. Choke points. At least he could hide Avery somewhere safe. If they swamped him here, he was done.

Even if he ignored the rest of the grunts, just fighting those Lieutenants and the General all at once… Even just fighting them one by one was dicey. But if they worked like any semblance of a team…

He was fucked.

There was no other way. The only question was, could he make it back to the cave before they crushed him? He wished he had a defensive skill. No time for regrets. He had a shitty second-best option. It would have to do.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind in a second.

Clay let out a drawn-out sigh. "How disappointing. Well then, let's get on with it!"

The archer drew his bow. The swordsman unslung his greatsword, and the barbarian hefted his cudgel. Clay pointed a quivering finger at Zane, and his lips curved up in a cruel grin.

"Kill him!"

At the same moment, Zane summoned his Chains. He switched them back, Chain form instantly—easier to wrap—turned and lunged for Avery's fallen body. He felt a hail of essence coming at him. He didn't bother dodging. The only thing that mattered to him right now was making sure she was safe. He picked her up and shielded her.

At the same time, he threw up his Chains. It didn't matter where—just over him, to take what shots they could.

Still, the wave that got through drove him to his knees. He wheezed. It felt like he had been struck by a massive scalding hammer.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟟𝟝%!

He stood and started wrapping his Chains around him. They coiled over him like twin snakes, covering as much as they could—he wanted as little skin exposed as possible. He felt them shaking as more Skills crashed against them. His Chains wrapped his neck, his head. A barrage of shots still sneaked through, stinging all over, but it would have to do.

He turned and ran for it.

Avery whispered something. He couldn't hear her over the din. "You're safe," he told her. "I've got you."

He ran for all he was worth.

He lunged up the side of the valley and bowled straight through the thick of the enemy lines. They tried to hold, tried to stop him, but wrapped as he was in Chains, he was monstrously heavy. His momentum was incredible, undeniable. The ones who tried to get in the way were sent flying at a touch. Some he trampled underfoot.

He put in a dozen solid strides. He could see the cave mouth looming in the distance—

He hissed, felt something rip through the back of his knee, felt the ligaments there tear. An electricity spasm of his body, almost made him fall over.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟝𝟘%!

"Fuck," he hissed. It was that archer.

He kept running, limping a little on the leg now. He tried shifting his Chains to cover it, but he'd hardly gotten 10 more strides before another shot ripped him through the knee.

Fuck! The others were splashing shots at him, but that man found the holes where they couldn't.

Zane felt his leg slowly start to give out. He was limping heavily now. Any shot that snuck through, battering his back, tearing at his arms, his legs, was a little extra weight dragging him to the ground.

The second floor cavern was so close—just a few dozen strides away…

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟝%!

He couldn't fail here. He wouldn't consider it. It pissed him off in a lot of ways. First—Avery would die, and that was not acceptable. And second—it was pathetic. Running with his tail between his legs? He refused to go out like this.

But first, he had to make it to the cave. And he did, stumbling, breathing heavy. By the time he got to the stairs, he was falling more than running—he fell through the cave mouth and just started tumbling down the stairs, faster and faster like a boulder picking up speed. He bounced; he ricocheted; there was no controlling it.

Eventually, he landed in a sordid halt, splattering against the cavern wall. When he yanked himself out, there was a new crater where he'd been.

Avery staggered out from him.

"You alright?" he breathed.

She nodded. They heard shouts pouring in from high above. The enemy would be here soon. Very soon.

"We can't go on like this," said Avery, shivering.

"We will."

"No, I mean—we can't just keep running. They'll trap us! We need to fight back. We need to get your Cyclone going, it's the only way we stand a chance!"

He couldn't agree more. But even at max power, he wasn't sure his Cyclone could handle an army that big, that strong. If only he'd gotten that Major Law… but there was no time for regret now.

They saw faces pop up through the murk, red and eager and twisted, frighteningly close. An electric arrow whizzed by. He chucked up a Chain and deflected it by pure chance. They picked a random tunnel and dashed through.

"There's no time," he said. "I need time to set up my Cyclone, but they'll be here in seconds."

"I'll give you time!" she insisted. "I'll hold them."

"How?"

"Here—this tunnel! It'll be a bottleneck. See that cavern?" She pointed to the tunnels' end, a jagged bright opening rushing at them fast. "There's space there for you to set up. I'll hold them here."

She had the same idea he had earlier. Only… could she hold them? She was Level 55—her, against the whole army? And she'd just gotten shot down, too… she was stilly wobbly on her feet. She must've seen the doubt in his face.

"Trust me!" she said, so fiercely he was taken aback. "We have to do this, or we're both dead."

He hesitated. Then nodded, despite it all. She was right. There was no other way. "I trust you."

"How long do you need?"

"Fifteen seconds." Fifteen was cutting it close, but he couldn't ask for more.

The cavern loomed up ahead, and Avery nodded to him. "Go!"

She was frail, unsteady, trembling. She was pale; she looked even smaller than she usually did. But there was a fierce resolve in her bright green eyes.

He ran through the tunnel and instantly started his Cyclone. His axes spun. A gale whipped to life.

She stayed behind at the tunnel's mouth. She breathed out. The air shimmered before her. On the other end, the army burst through.

"Bring it!" she cried.

***

His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. 1… 2… It all slowed to a crawl. Zane could only watch, urging his axes on, as a torrent of essence poured through the tunnel and struck her. There was so much light it was a struggle not to look away. Avery screamed.

But she held it there. She covered it with her palms, and somehow, with a huge effort, managed to turn it, swerve it back on the enemy. All that light went bouncing back as though off a mirror. He heard screams echo down the tunnel.

She stood there, panting. Her small hands were charred black.

3… 4...

A flash of lightning shot down the tunnel.

But this time she was ready for it. It bounced off her, went careening into the wall. "Nice try," she spat.

The shots poured in faster, brighter. She caught a stream of essence-light on the tip of her finger, balanced it there, turned, spun, and sent it shunting back through. Fire raged at her, and she met it head-on, scattering it into the tunnel walls. She sent a blast of air scattering down the other way. A raging whitewater river flooded her, and she reversed its flow.

She was wobbling so hard he was worried she'd black out any moment, but somehow she held her ground. Where was she getting the strength?

5… 6… 7…

His Cyclone was picking up steam, starting to rage.

The Legion was catching on. The ranks broke open, and the Lieutenants came crashing through. The swordsman and the barbarian dashed for her, side by side, the archer close behind.

Shit.

They were all in the 60s. He nearly went to help. Then she caught his eye.

"You stay there, Zane Walker, I swear to God—!" she screamed.

9… 10…

Then they were upon her.

The greatsword flashed icy blue. An avatar of light sprung out of it, blowing up to twice its size. Roaring, the swordsman slashed.

Avery caught the blade.

She cried out when she did. Her hands bled. But she'd still caught it. She turned it, shunted it away, sent the swordsman stumbling after it.

Then the cudgel almost brained her, but she caught that too, somehow, flowed with it, spun it around, and all that force jerked back up the cudgel. The barbarian was blasted back—like he was the one who'd gotten hit.

An electric arrow whistled for her throat. Avery batted it out of the air.

How was she doing that?

She was bleeding, clearly beyond exhausted, but her jaw was clenched tight.

11… 12… 13…

They came at her again. She slipped the sword in a dance-step, laid a hand on the swordsman, and all his momentum went backwards. He went flying, bellowing. The cudgel came at her from the other side, steaming with metal Laws, and she caught it—on the tip of her fingers.

Zane was as shocked as the barbarian was. All around Avery, the ground burst with cracks—it was like she'd made herself a perfect conduit for force. That blow was grounded.

"Fuck off!" she growled. And she sent him hurtling away.

It hit him then how she was doing this. The answer was simple.

She was doing this—throwing herself beyond her limits—because she promised him she would.

He needed her. So she answered the call.

She kept herself upright, kept herself moving, by sheer force of will. Because she had to. Because he was counting on her.

Some folk shrank when all the odds were stacked against them. But a rare few, a special few, rose to meet the challenge.

Zane realized with a shock she was a kindred spirit.

She was jokey and fun-loving and said silly, dumb things. That was all a façade. Avery Lively was a Signed, and that was no accident. Under the surface… this happy-go-lucky girl was a monster in her own right.

They kept hitting her. And she just would not go down.

She saw everything coming. And so long as she did, it was like nothing could touch her. Her eyes were wide, glowed eerie bright.

Just a little more…! Zane's Cyclone had gone so loud the room was starting to shake. But all eyes were on Avery. She was stumbling drunkenly all over herself; her hands were mangled. Every time the cudgel struck her, every time the blade cleaved at her, he thought they'd squish her to nothing. She was so small in the face of them, but they couldn't put her down. Zane realized then he was watching something extraordinary, a shocking feat of will—a single underLeveled girl staring down an army, and somehow, impossibly, winning—

Avery froze.

She blinked, looked down.

There was a knife sticking out of her chest. A huge black knife, smoking with shadows. Zane's heart stopped.

"Oh," she whispered. Her eyes rolled back. And she crumpled.

The knife owner stepped out of the shadows at her feet. A grinning, rat-faced man.

"Oops!" said Clay. He licked his lips. "How sad. She was doing so well, too, the poor thing. Ah, well—"

He saw the look on Zane's face, and he froze. "Err—"

Zane howled.

His Cyclone lit up brighter than it ever had, brighter than he would've thought possible. Just as the Legion hordes poured through the open tunnel.

He felt something crack. In him, and out. A crack in the face of the world.

And the air began to bend.