Vy knew that she ought to hide in the nearest bomb shelter.

Each neighborhood shelter was mirror-paneled so that not even Ariock could find them easily, although he had built them. Their trap doors were camouflaged. They were reinforced with the same near-indestructible ionic tungsten used for spaceship hulls. It would take more than a few grenades to wrench them open. And inside? The shelters were loaded with rations, survival gear, and weapons.

So Vy knew that she ought to join the hidden throngs. Ariock would want her to use common sense and stay out of danger.

But Ariock was missing in action.

There were rumors on news channels, but Vy refused to believe the speculations that he was defeated or captured. Ariock was the Strength. There was no way a mere army could knock him out. That didn’t make any kind of sense.

Thomas would likely know the truth.

Vy just wasn’t sure whether Thomas was safe. No one seemed particularly concerned about him. All the concern was for Ariock, and Kessa, and Jinishta and Weptolyso and various war heroes. Those were the people everyone talked about. But rekvehs? No one cared.

How ironic that Cherise never even asked about Thomas. Vy wished her well, and then ended the call.

She hurriedly grabbed a hooded overcoat and a scarf that could double as a warrior’s veil. She would never pass as an Alashani up close; not with her undignified height. She just didn’t want to be immediately obvious.

She rode a hoverbike past intense-looking soldiers. If anyone recognized her, they did not shout out. But she had to stop at Recruitment Plaza, where soldiers formed a blockade at the Academy archway entrance.

Vy jumped off her bike. “Where can I find Thomas?” she asked the nearest soldier.

The soldier, a tan-furred govki, stared at her.

“The Teacher?” Vy hoped that would clarify whom she meant.

“Lady of Paradise.” A warrior addressed Vy with reverence. “Please go to the nearest shelter. This is a battle zone.”

“Is Thomas okay?” Vy wanted to believe that he was busy defending the Academy. That might be why he wasn’t answering calls.

The warrior seemed to be inwardly debating what to tell her.

Vy tried to banish imagined scenarios where Thomas was cornered, helpless, or worse: captured by Torth. “Where is he?”

“This is a dangerous place.” The warrior sounded stressed out. “We cannot protect you. Please, go somewhere safe?”

The Lady of Paradise might be on their list of priorities to protect, but what about Thomas? Did they even know if he was alive?

Vy leaped onto her hoverbike and zigzagged past startled soldiers. No one dared to threaten her. They shouted warnings, and a few dared to curse her. They went running towards their own parked hoverbikes. Maybe they would follow Vy onto Academy grounds?

She sped past decorative shrubs. The plaza she traversed was empty, but as she approached the main classroom buildings, she heard distant sounds of violence.

Wet blasts.

Cries of pain.

Vy parked her borrowed vehicle in the shade of a class building. She was not entirely useless in combat, having practiced with Thomas’s recent gift. She pressed two fingers to a specific spot on her leg prosthetic. The spring-loaded compartment door popped open.

For now, Vy ignored her collection of hand grenades and inhibitor gas emitters. She donned her custom-tailored blaster glove.

Armed, she sneaked around the granite flank of the building. She intended to peek in on the battle, just to ascertain that Thomas was elsewhere. Then she would sneak towards the research annex.

She paused when she heard footsteps behind her. There were a lot of swift-moving feet, all running towards her.

Vy turned, expecting to see friendly soldiers.

Instead, she saw a mob of scabby, filthy Torth.

They could have been mistaken for zombies. The difference was the burning sapience in their gazes. That, and glowing collars around their necks.

Vy’s skirt had a slit that went up to her hip. All of her clothes were tailored for combat. She threw off her hooded robe and exposed her upgraded leg prosthetic.

She could have released inhibitor gas, but these penitents would have attacked her already if they’d had any powers. Instead, they wielded rocks and other items which they must have raided on their way through the city. Pitchforks. Scrap metal. Mallets.

Many had eerie red irises, denoting their former status as Red Ranks. They resembled demons from a nightmare. And they were coordinated, the way telepaths could get.

Vy tapped her prosthetic to ready the blaster charges. She finalized the auto-fire activation sequence by drawing her knee up, balancing on her natural leg.

The first wave of overeager ghouls tried to mob her.

Vy sprayed blasts, and penitents went down in bloody lumps. Not fast enough. There seemed to be about a hundred enemy mind readers hurling themselves at Vy, their alien eyes narrowed with collective determination. They really wanted to get her.

Well, they had to prove their valor to the Majority, didn’t they? Having broken Kessa’s edicts, they could not expect mercy from Kessa’s side of the war. Nor could they expect mercy from the Majority if they failed here and now. They had to win. Otherwise they were dead.

No wonder they attacked as frantically as cornered animals.

Vy couldn’t spare any sympathy for the plight they had made for themselves. She had more important concerns, such as surviving long enough to find out what had happened to Thomas and Ariock.

The bodies were piling up. But she could not balance on one leg forever.

(!!!)

 Take her.

  Pretty girl is vulnerable.

Vy had a crazy sensation, like she was overhearing silent comradeship and seeing herself from various (superior) points of view. Penitents clawed their way past others, trying to take (one-legged girlfriend) her as a hostage (for the glory of the Torth Majority).

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Vy yanked two hand grenades out of her leg compartment. She triggered the grenades, and as their countdown strips morphed from blue to green towards yellow, she hurled them at her attackers.

!!! * !!! * !!! * !!! * !!!

Vy felt as if she was torn apart, herself. As the explosions went off in the mob, she reeled backwards, enveloped by (!!!) phantom agony. Maybe fear was causing her to hallucinate? Were friendly soldiers rushing to rescue her?

That’s Vy!

 …Going to save her.

Friendly voices resounded inside of Vy as though she was imagining conversations. They were vibes rather than sounds.

She struggled to regain her balance.

…Protect her.

That silent “voice” was dark and rough, armored yet eroded, like a barren rock scorched by a lifetime of seasons full of wind and rain and ice. Vy was unsurprised to see Garrett. He wore a blaster glove on each arm, and he ruthlessly shot unarmed penitents in the back.

Yet Vy was seeing Garrett in a way that she had never seen him before.

Veins of black fury radiated off him. Gleaming sparks showed valor. And his age! She could actually see a mantle of knowledge and practical experience swirling around him, like a cape, as multilayered and complex as a tree’s growth rings. Garrett was thoroughly armored with scaly bark that implied years of experience. Compared with these penitents, he was a tank.

And his power.

Vy saw it.

Garrett extended a hand, and energy gathered into electricity around his fist. Vy was used to being around Yeresunsa powers, but she had never felt the throbbing strength of Yeresunsa focus before. Garrett looked invincible. Despite his badly dented armor, he looked like a god.

He whacked the mob of penitents with a shock wave.

Attackers went flying like splinters of wood split by an axe. They had no chance against that power.

Vy began a joyous smile. She was saved!

But then a foreign force slammed into Garrett.

!!!

She absorbed Garrett’s shocked pain as if it was her own. The feeling crippled her.

She felt Garrett shield himself, so that he survived a brutal crash against a stone wall. The stone cratered. Garrett crumpled to the ground. Vy felt his unspoken vulnerability. He felt…

Scared?

Resigned?

Depleted?

Fireballs arced across the courtyard. Three blank-eyed Torth approached, baring their teeth in a parody of human grins. Although they wore the armor of Red Ranks, waves of power blurred their outlines into massive hulks. These (Rosy Ranks) Torth were (stronger than the Imposter) titans. They were like Ariock.

Well, no, they were not as colossal as Ariock. But in this battle zone? They had no peers. They were going to crush Vy and Garrett with ease.

“RUN!” Garrett yelled. His voice was only a crust on top of urgency, aimed at Vy.

He struggled to regain his feet, radiating desperation. In normal times, he would have outclassed any of these Torth, but a short respite (hiding with Thomas) wasn’t enough time for him to fully recover from depletion. The best he could manage was to shield himself while the Rosies whacked him with roaring fireballs.

“I m m m p o s s s s t e r r r,” penitents whispered as they crept out of bushes and shadows.

“Y o u r r r e n d d d i s n i i i i g h.”

Vy felt an undertone to their whispers; a certainty of victory. The Imposter could barely shield himself. He was cornered. He should have stayed hidden, because out here, he was dead meat.

Get her.

Vy sensed Torth coming up from behind. They wielded shovels and hammers, but their makeshift weapons were a last resort. The Torth Majority wanted to use Vy as bait. These penitents yearned to (get her) (get her!) please their telepathic overlords.

Vy whirled away from grasping hands. She reactivated her prosthetic, having given it enough time to recharge.

Uh oh, a penitent thought.

Vy aimed her prosthetic knee and blasted his lower body in an explosion of gore.

* ! *

Vy whirled this way and that way, destroying sneaky penitents. Chests ruptured and body parts went flying. The heaps of corpses grew.

But there were so many.

Every rebellious penitent in the city seemed to run at Vy. She was a helpless target facing an endless attack. Her prosthetic’s blaster gun needed time to recharge again. Perhaps this was why she was overhearing thoughts and seeing emotional auras? She was a dead woman.

Get her now!

The mob surged.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *** * * …

Enormous bony jaws stabbed down from the sky and crushed penitents between needle-thin teeth.

Vy gaped. She kept seeing and hearing and even smelling and feeling things that weren’t there. Was this scaly black sky croc part of some hellishly complex hallucination?

But it could only be Azhdarchidae. He wore a harness with a lot of straps.

Azhdarchidae flapped his gigantic wings, steadying himself over the flat plaza. All of the razor wires overhead had long since been removed. There were no gigantic predators gliding through the urban skies these days, other than Thomas’s pet.

Azhdarchidae sized up the mob with his orange eyes.

Then he went into shred mode.

! *

 ! *

  ! *

   ! *

    !! *

     ! *

Azhdarchidae chomped on penitents, ignoring the rocks and metal scraps their comrades threw at his scaly hide. His jaws, as long as a semi truck, scissored open and shut, and his many, many teeth caught flesh and cloth.

The penitents scattered.

Vy’s grenades had hardly fazed the mind readers, but this beast was a different matter. Maybe they didn’t like his predatory thoughts? Or maybe it was the fact that his carnage made the piles of corpses around Vy look like nothing?

!!!

Garrett stared at a neon arrow that hung in front of him. It pointed straight upward.

The three Rosies has backed off, apparently intimidated by the beast. Or maybe they were depleted? Vy sensed (teleportation takes a lot) (The Imposter is more wily than he seems) their exhaustion.

Azhdarchidae had landed, yet he still blotted out a lot of sky. He towered. And that neon arrow? It seemed to point at the straps which encircled the animal’s silver underbelly.

“Wonderful.” Garrett sounded sarcastic. “That boy and his brilliant ideas.” He held out his hand towards Vy. “Ugh, come on.”

Vy understood, without needing to ask, who had projected the holographic arrow (Thomas), and what it implied (safety) (escape). It was just, well, incredibly hard to believe.

She wanted to know where Ariock was. That was all.

Nevertheless, she jogged towards Garrett and the straps which dangled from Azhdarchidae’s underbelly. She would never get answers if she got killed. She just didn’t want any more surprises today.

One of the Rosies hurled a fireball at Vy.

She threw up her arms as a reflex, but her human limbs could not stop fire, and she was about to die—

Until a wall of air solidified. The fireball smashed against it in a ring of flames.

Vy’s eyes burned and watered, but the heat was tolerable. Garrett had shielded her.

He staggered. Vy sensed his weakness. He didn’t even have his staff to steady himself.

“I’ve got you.” Vy hefted Garrett into the harness. Her ultra-strong leg prosthetic gave her enough leverage to lift him. She held that position long enough for the old man to fumble straps and buckles into working order.

“I’m going to have words with the boy about this,” Garrett grumbled as he secured himself in the harness. Ariock’s alive. His thoughts overlapped his spoken words. But he’s going to have psychological damage.

Vy gasped as Garrett replayed a tornado. She caught vague impressions of Ariock.

It was enough.

It was staggering.

“Climb into the harness,” Garrett urged her. “Hurry! Ariock will need you.”

Vy was pretty sure she must be insane to trust her life to a sky croc. Then again, if Thomas was directing his pet to make pickups … and if telepathy gas was an actual thing … and if Ariock had accidentally killed one hundred of his own warriors… who was she to judge what was normal and what was insane?

The harness had just enough room for two passengers. Vy hoisted herself next to Garrett and strapped herself in. She wasn’t the bravest of pilots, but—

Azhdarchidae launched himself into the smoky air.

Vy screamed. Garrett screamed. The sky croc banked to one side, and Vy kept a death grip on harness, feet dangling. She cinched straps until she felt somewhat secure.

Torth glared at them from the ground, eyes burning with frustration. Those Rosy Ranks must be as depleted as Garrett. Otherwise they would—

One of the Rosies suddenly vanished and reappeared in midair. Her blaster glove tracked them as she fell.

Vy could not overhear the Rosy’s thoughts, not anymore, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious. This Rosy had depleted herself by teleporting up here, and the effort ensured her own death, but she believed that she would be immortalized in the Megacosm for accomplishing what no one else could: assassinating the Imposter. She would serve the Majority or die trying.

So many Torth were shortsighted glory hounds. Like the Swift Killer.

The Rosy triggered her weapon.

With a flap of his wings, Azhdarchidae veered away. He angled towards the fiery flare of Thomas’s training signal.

The Rosy screamed as she plummeted towards the patio garden roof of a school building. Her blast missed Garrett by inches.

The remaining two Rosies hurled fireballs, but they were too depleted to put their full strength into the projectiles. They were too far away. Their fireballs died as harmless embers in the wind.

Azhdarchidae circled above the Academy. Soon he lifted Vy and Garrett even higher, into low hanging clouds.