Chapter 45—Terra

A few moments later, men with food circulate. They offer me a hunk of bread and cheese, and a slab of ham. I take it. I force myself to eat, because if I don't eat, I can't help. I need to help, even if I'll never recover from the price of that aid.

After lunch, I’m notified that the army has prepared a battering ram. They're lining up to bring it against the front gate. I look at Jesse. Sweat pours freely down his forehead.

“I have an idea, Jesse.”

He looks at me gratefully.

“Ask your men to step back.”

“We need them there, to brace the gate.”

“Give me a minute,” I say.

I climb up to the highest point behind the gate, the guard lookout post, and I glance over. The men are lining up to bring the ram against the gate. I don't have much time. I locate the nearest vats of tar and Lift the two closest ones. I swing them out over the battering ram and pour the tar over the top of it, coating most of the men, and the entire wooden tree trunk. Kahn orders his archers to fire flaming arrows.

Jesse waves at me when I pass. “Thanks.”

“I'm always here.” Which only reminds me that he won’t be.

Unfortunately, Devlin’s soldiers quickly figure out that any time they congregate in large groups, my little balls appear. Maybe that's okay. “We're almost out of projectiles,” Kahn says. “I've ordered the blacksmiths to shift all their efforts into making more.”

I snort. “I wouldn't have imagined my contribution to this war would be flinging tiny metal blobs, but I think we've done alright with them.”

“You certainly have.”

“You're too modest,” I say. “You've thrown at least a hundred.”

“Maybe not quite.” He smiles. “But I'm trying to do my part. If you keep going like you are now, no one will even need me. Perhaps they'll remember me as your trainer.”

I sock him in the arm. “Or they could remember you as the finest commander, after Duncan, of course.”

“Why don't you call him Dad?” he asks.

I shrug. “My mom took me and hid me a long time ago, to prevent all this, I suppose.” I gesture at the army encamped just outside the gate. “Or at least to delay it. I don't even remember having a father, so I guess it feels weird thinking of him like that.”

“He's going to need you,” Kahn says.

“When they decide to attack in full force?” I ask.

“Then too,” Kahn says, “but that's not what I mean.” He doesn't clarify, but understanding dawns.

Jesse.

Less than an hour later, Devlin inexplicably brings his entire force to bear. All at once, everyone's calling for us, and I don't know where to go.

“Maximum damage,” Kahn says. He orders the men to bring as many of the metal spheres as they can find, and then runs up the steps to the North Wall, near the gate. I follow him up, but he stops and sends me back down. “I can only handle a few dozen at a time, but so can Jesse, Duncan, and Pratt. They've all come to reinforce me along this side. You take the northwest. Think you can handle that?”

I change directions. “If there aren't enough spheres, what do we use?”

“Arrowheads. Rocks. Anything you can find,” Kahn says.

The troops clear a wide path for me as I walk up to the northwest steps alone. At first I think they're happy to see me, proud that I'm here to help, but then I notice the twist of their lips, the hunch of their shoulders, and the slant in their eyes.

They’re afraid, but not of the attack.

They’re afraid of me.

Several boxes of metal balls are waiting for me when I arrive. I Lift about two hundred and notice that I'm straining. That's odd. Yesterday I Lifted far more, and then Lifted hundreds and hundreds of weights. How can I be tiring already?

It's probably nothing. I hold the balls and focus on the ocean of men standing in front of me. I close my eyes so I can feel the men climbing the ladders, scrambling up the Bindings. Then I let them loose. Hundreds of men fall. I do the same thing three more times. Before I can start a fourth, a runner comes with a message. “They need you on the East Wall.”

I frown at him. The East Wall stands above the sheer cliff. How could they need me there? I run down the steps, leaving the archers to manage without me. Several men break away to bring the nearly empty crates with all the remaining metal balls along.

By the time I reach the East Wall, it's almost overrun. Men in the blood red livery of Rochester Castle swarm the top of the wall, a few spilling down below. Men with swords hack away at one another in a bloody melee that's so much worse than a puncture wound to the heart.

I keep my eyes open this time, focusing on small batches on men with blood red coats. Since I'm not sending the balls so far away, it’s much easier. I fling the same three or four dozen balls over and over, conserving my resources, but more men pour over the second I clear away the last. Adaniel, eyes alight, is fighting three invaders to my right. I dispatch them and call for him.

“Can you cover me? I need to reach the top of the wall to force the bulk back down.”

He nods and jogs to my side. I'm lucky he's good with a sword. Two or three other men join him, and together they manage to fight our way upward, dragging me and my crates toward the top of the wall.

When I finally reach the overlook, I see hundreds of painted Bindings the men below are climbing up. My hands tremble. Sweat rolls down my brow, but I know what I need to do. They’d have figured out by now that I’m killing people in batches—with the balls. They’d be sheltering the men who made the Bindings—but not far away. The farther from the Bindings, the more power it draws.

I squint and search, spreading my senses out until I find it. A tent on the edge of the city, full of a dozen men, sitting in a circle. I line up the projectiles, and I fling them right through the tent walls—killing the men all at once. The Bindings disappear, and so many soldiers fall, each man screaming. The same thing that horrified me just this morning now brings me a sense of profound relief. Once I've eliminated the Bindings the soldiers of Amun painstakingly created, I Lift fifty or so balls at a time, flinging them as hard as I can at the soldiers who have climbed up.

Until I run out.

With the help of my troops, and a dozen or so metal projectiles, we go after the two hundred or so men who broke through before my arrival, preparing to clear the breach of the East Wall. Now that their reinforcements and way of retreat have been cut off, the soldiers yield their weapons quickly—great, prisoners. Now we’ll have even more mouths to feed. Won't Duncan be pleased. . .

Kahn calls me back to the North Wall next, and I want to sit down and cry. “I don't know if I can Lift any more,” I say.

“I hope you can,” he says. “We're almost overrun.”

Again. When will it stop?

I drag in a ragged breath and follow him, climbing the stairs so slowly that Kahn takes pity on me. I’m not sure I quite believed that Lifting was the same as physical activity in terms of its physical drain on the body until today. Kahn slings me over his shoulder and carries me to the top. When I see the ocean of men before me, despair overwhelms me. I turn on my heel, but that action shows me the circle of brave Unit Leaders, standing in front of column after column of Isis men congregated here.

I have to try something, anything, or they’ll all be at risk.

“Looks like his reinforcements have arrived,” Duncan says.

“Ours haven't?” I ask, as if I don't already know the answer.

Kahn shakes his head.

I sigh. “I need every arrowhead, every rock, and every piece of rubble you can find.”

Men scramble away and within a few moments, begin to reappear with crates, loaded with rocks, pebbles and misshapen lumps of metal in every shape and size. I’m pleased to see rings, pendants, and earrings scattered into the pile. At least the men understand the importance of what we’re doing here.

“Clear some room,” I say.

Duncan, Jesse, and Kahn's eyes bore into me. Everyone is counting on me. Everyone needs me.

I close my eyes and feel for the men, thousands upon thousands, stretching down to the bottom of the city and beyond for almost a mile. I bring my focus in closer and feel for the rocks and metal bits in the bins. I'm so tired. The idea of Lifting it all makes me want to lie down and sob. But it’s my exhaustion. . .versus the lives of all our men. It’s not even a contest.

I open my eyes and look at the faces of the people I care about. I haven't known them long, but Duncan, Kahn, and my brother matter to me, more than anything. I inhale and exhale, and then I Lift as much as I can. It's only a few dozen rocks. I release them. Even exhausted, I can do more.

I have to do more.

I focus on the contents of every single crate, all eleven that have been brought. I think of my fear, my sorrow, and the injustice of the world we’ve all been placed into. I channel my rage at the fact that Jesse’s Wasting and my inability to help. I focus on the fact that this is something I can do. I can Lift, I can rend, and I can save all these other soldiers, the men of Isis, the men who may be afraid of me but are still standing behind me.

I reach down deep, deep inside, and I pull.

The world around me begins to shake. The walls vibrate, the gate, and the soil below it. It feels exactly like it did during the Ascension, before I blacked out. Only this time, I don’t have that luxury. I can’t check out, I can’t give in, it’s not only my success on the line.

It’s so much more.

That's when Jesse places his hand on my arm and the world shakes a little less. Duncan places his hand on my other arm. Only the contents of the boxes are shaking now. Finally, heat from Kahn stepping in close behind me warms my back. He reaches out his hand and places it on my shoulder and a surge of strength pulses through me, almost as if their presence grounds me.

I take a deep breath and Lift the contents of all eleven boxes. Thousands of projectiles ranging in size from a tiny pebble to my fist.

“Perhaps one crate at a time,” Jesse says.

“This is the end for me. This will wipe me out,” I say. “It needs to count.”

I don't have the strength to identify individual targets, not this time. Matching up my assaults with specific targets may be what has left me this drained. So for now, I Lift the mass of improvised weapons higher and then launch toward the men nearest to the front gate. Although a few, a small few, block the attack, the rest of my projectiles find marks.

Once I've released the last one, I collapse and darkness swallows me whole.