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The Living Weapons
No Matter How You Try, You Cannot Break Free

No Matter How You Try, You Cannot Break Free

Wyndham listened for a moment. Then she moved from cover, following her talent. She needed to get away from the scene before Whitehouse brought more of the Weapons to take her back.

She knew she was prolonging things as long as they had that tracking stone. On the other hand, if she could get across the bridge, she might be able to get the Masks to act as her shield.

It all depended on what kind of deal Grandview could strike with the Eldest Brother. If they couldn't come to an agreement, then she might be able to work in Mask City as a finder of lost things.

The Masks liked their citizens to do things without their interference. The people who lived in Grandview's tower were expected to serve his every need. The difference in governance had been the first hint that Wyndham could do better for herself somewhere else.

She aimed for a stand of trees, wondering how much time she had before Whitehouse came back. She doubted she could get clear of the area before Morehull and Donald Goreman were dropped in the area. Whitehouse could use them to help him triangulate where she was and pen her in.

She called on her talent to pick the likeliest line of travel for Shanahan. She needed to leave him a note of some kind before they caught up with her. He needed to know how to get home.

Once he knew that, he could turn and get the Gate Stone from the Shaper and use that to get home. He wouldn't have to see any of them any more.

She doubted he had the endurance to deal with all of the others. She could understand why he would be furious at her for stranding him in this strange place. At least a note would give him something better than what he had now.

She pulled out her knife. She carved lines in a tree facing Mask City. She stepped back. The sign had to be good enough to point him to her real message.

If he missed it, he missed it. There was nothing she could do about that.

She hunkered down and carved her real message in the ground at the base of the tree. She broke off a small limb from a nearby shrub. She made an arrow out of it and dropped it so it pointed at the message. She stepped back and looked around.

She had to make sure the others didn't find her message.

She jogged away at an angle. If they thought she was trying to get to Mask City, Whitehouse would just drop them in front of her. They might see her message. If they thought she was heading for the Shapers' hexagon, they might not come this way at all.

If they found the message, there was no telling what they would do to Shanahan. He didn't deserve problems for what she had decided to do.

On the other hand, she hadn't expected him to kill Gaunt to protect her either.

He gave her a glare any time she asked about his past, what he was doing on the street, or what he did with the money since he didn't spend it on himself other than buying a bottle of whiskey every day.

What did he need with that much alcohol?

Wyndham felt her talent ping as Morehull appeared off to her left. She veered to the right. She checked on Whitehouse and saw that he was at the tower. So was Goreman. She expected the Fist to drop close by as she moved through the forest towards the Shapers.

Whitehouse might bring in regulators to help corral her. She might have a chance against some of them. She didn't have a chance against the Blade, or Goreman's extreme strength.

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Wyndham jogged from tree to tree. At least they only had one stone from what she could feel. If they had more, she wouldn't have a chance at all. Being out at night was also a help since her talent didn't care if she could see, or not.

All she had to do was not trip and break an ankle on the underbrush.

Donald Goreman loomed up in front of her. She tried to stab him with the pocket knife in her hand. Her talent pointed to a spot in his neck that should do the job.

He caught her arm at the wrist and squeezed. The pain of bones grinding in her arm caused her to drop the knife. She tried to stop the small cry in her throat as she was forced to stand on tiptoe.

“Hello, Seera,” said Goreman. A grin rode his face. “I think we should go somewhere and do things together. I don't think the others would mind so much as long as you are still alive for Emil to talk with when he returns.”

Wyndham called on her talent for a suggestion. It told her to take out a knee if she could. She concentrated on the striking point, and tried to ignore the pain in her arm. She might have to hang from that arm to get enough power to let the move work for her.

She hoped it worked as well for her as it did for Shanahan.

She slammed the sole of her boot against the inside of his right knee, trying to force it out of alignment so he would let go at worst, crash down to the ground at best. Once she was free, she could start running again.

Goreman refused to let go as his leg shifted across the grass. He let out a sound, but he glared at her instead of cursing with words. The decision to kill her despite what Grandview wanted rode in his eyes.

Wyndham asked herself what would Shanahan do in this situation. The idea came first, then the determination to do it. She still had one arm free after all.

Her free hand came up and went for Goreman's eye. She tried to put her thumb in as hard as she could. He jerked his face away from the digit.

“How is everything going, Donald?,” asked Morehull from the darkness behind the small giant. “Is this thin woman giving you trouble?”

“No,” said Goreman. He stopped his turkey sized fist in mid-swing. He turned to look at the swordsman standing in the shadow. “How could she?”

“I understand that she isn't the woman we once knew,” said Morehull. The sound of clipping wood rattled around him. “I think it's in our best interest that she be in good condition when Emil gets back. I understand that he wants to know what happened as soon as he comes home.”

“We know what happened,” said Goreman. “She disobeyed orders and went to that other world where Gaunt got killed. What more will he need to know from her?”

“He'll want to know what kind of defenses they have for us,” said Morehull. “We didn't see anything, but that doesn't mean much. We weren't taking a tour of the place.”

“So you want me to let her live?,” said Goreman.

“I think that would be best until we hear otherwise from Emil,” said Morehull. “I'm sure if he wants to get rid of her, he'll ask you to do it. You'll be the first of us with two talents instead of one.”

“All right,” said Goreman. He looked at Wyndham. “Don't think you're going to get away clean for this.”

“You're a bully, and a coward,” said Wyndham. “Without your spirit, you're nothing but a bag of wind. I would love to stab you in the face to see how much air I could let out of you.”

“I think that's enough,” said Morehull. “We wouldn't want something tragic to happen before its time.”

Whitehouse appeared with a pop of air. He looked around at the showdown going on.

“What am I missing?,” he asked in confusion.

“Take Seera back to the tower,” said Morehull. “Put her in a room with no doors, or windows, if you please.”

“I don't think we have anything like that,” said Whitehouse. He scratched his balding head.

“Then put her in the best equivalent that you can,” said Morehull. “We don't want her escaping again, do we?”

“I know a place I can put her until Emil comes back,” said Whitehouse.

“Keep the stone just in case, Arnold,” said Morehull.

“Will do,” said Whitehouse. “Come on, Seera. We have places to be.”

Seera felt her stomach twist inside as Whitehouse touched her arm and wrenched space. She tried to push him away since they were still in the forest. Another yank pulled on her insides before she could move her arm. She staggered inside a dusty room. The Door let her fall on her butt as he popped out of existence.

She reached out with her talent. There wasn't much damage she could do without her knife, but she wanted to know where the door was. She couldn't see anything in the dark she had been stranded in.

The room didn't have a door. She paused. She couldn't feel any windows either. She hadn't expected Whitehouse to know a place to fit Morehull's criteria. How was she going to get out of this?

She felt tears coming on, but held them back. She didn't have time to cry. She needed to get out of this. Shanahan wouldn't be able to find her if she wasn't on the loose. She could cry when she was free of the tower again.