He had to reach Saito. Sullivan could die here, and probably would, but he needed to take that son of a bitch down first.
A Spiker nailed him with extra gravities. Sullivan laughed, gathered it up, and flung it right back tenfold. That Spiker exploded into a pink mist. A Shard came up on the side, magically hardened claws spread wide, and remarkably enough, they managed to shear through a chunk of armor. Sullivan swiveled, jammed the muzzle of the BAR against the Shard’s ribs and blew him away.
A big rifle bullet hit him in the forehead. It didn’t penetrate the steel plate, but it rocked Sullivan’s head back so hard his neck popped. He kept moving, changing magazines, pulling a new one from his chest while he scanned for where that came from. The sniper fired again, and had to be shooting an elephant gun because it hit so damned hard. One of Sullivan’s legs went out from under him and he fell on his chest and slid, but he’d seen the flash and the smoke from the top of the palace. He worked the BAR back and forth, shredding those windows and whoever was behind them.
Before he could get up, there was a Brute on his back. Sullivan slammed a steel elbow into teeth, but the Brute wouldn’t shake loose. He hardened his body for the impact, and the Brute kidney-punched rock. Even then, the Brute managed to dent the suit. Sullivan made himself weigh four thousand pounds and then simply rolled over, smashing the Brute flat beneath.
He tore gravity apart and flung it out, throwing the attacking Iron Guard off and buying himself some time. He was breathing hard. Every magical scar on his body was burning hot. Even his augmented Power couldn’t keep up with this kind of draw. Come on! Sullivan returned to his normal weight and struggled back up. Regular soldiers were rushing in, trying to put their bodies between him and Saito.
There was a flash of light and a ring of steel on steel. Sparks flew from his chest and he was stumbling back. An Iron Guard had seemingly come out of nowhere and cleaved him in the chest with a sword. That ain’t gonna pierce this—oh hell… And then Sullivan realized he felt far heavier. The swordsman hadn’t been trying to pierce the armor, he’d been trying to disrupt the runes carved on it.
He must have seen a vulnerability. The Swordsman blocked the rising BAR, stepped inside, carefully aiming his sword point at Sullivan’s eye, and then his skull opened up in a spray of red.
Faye was standing there, holding a dripping Iron Guard sword. She’d just clumsily hacked the swordsman’s face like she was chopping wood. The swordsman started to sit up, so Faye casually leaned over, jabbed her blade between his ribs, and twisted. “Hey, Mr. Sullivan. Are you ready for me yet?”
“Don’t let the Chairman get away,” he shouted. “Nothing else matters!”
She nodded once and then disappeared.
Sullivan looked around, realized Saito was retreating for the mansion with Toru right behind him, what seemed like half the Japanese army was heading Sullivan’s way, and he was standing in the middle of a field with absolutely no cover. He turned and ran for it.
Chapter 22
Do you wish me to give them my word? It is said that a warrior does not make promises, for everything we speak is a promise. If a warrior says he will do something, then it will be done. If a warrior speaks, it is a vow. I have already said why I am here. We will fulfill the duty of the Dark Ocean. Tell your men the entirety of the Imperium would not stand in the way of fulfilling the final command of Okubo Tokugawa. The Imperium will come to understand the coming danger or they will perish. I will make them understand the truth of this.
Free City of Shanghai
Ian Wright was incoherent with pain. His leg had been destroyed by the Iron Guard. Everything below his knee was flopping uselessly at an odd angle, a bone was sticking through the skin, and there was blood everywhere. He couldn’t even put his hands on it to stop the bleeding because they were shackled, and those same chains were being used by the others to drag the lot of them back toward the tunnel and the torture chambers beneath the mansion. It wasn’t a safe place, but it sure as hell had to be a safer place than out in the open.
He was in so much agony that he had a hard time wrapping his brain around what was going on. It was like the Iron Guard were throwing a civil war. He’d never imagined Iron Guard slaughtering each other before, but then he realized what was happening.
Some of the Iron Guard weren’t Iron Guard at all. They weren’t even human… Everything Sullivan had said was true. Absolutely true. These were soldiers of the Pathfinder, and now they were eating people. He’d been a fool to doubt, and now it was too late.
“They’re consuming magic!” Doctor Wells shouted from the far end of the chain. “Now that they’ve been found out, they will go on the offensive. They must consume as much Power as possible so they can summon their master!” And there were five powerful Actives here chained together, wounded and nearly defenseless. “Summon a demon. Hurry!”
That was a good idea, but they’d been marked with some sort of spell to keep them from using their Powers. Ian reached for his forehead and started scrubbing hard. It had been put on with some sort of thick demon grease, so he’d probably have to rub all his skin off to cancel it out…
An Iron Guard was coming their way. His skin had been burned off, and beneath it was a mass of bulging purple muscles. He looked hungry.
Ian started scratching wildly at the mark.
Suddenly the skinless man turned grey like a fade, sank into the ground, flailing, and disappeared. A moment later, another grey figure crawled out of the grass and became solid. Heinrich Koenig gasped for breath as he rushed over. “Hello, my friends. Busy day, no?”
“You’re a master of fucking understatement!”
Heinrich grabbed Ian, and suddenly he felt insubstantial. When he reformed, his shackles were lying on the ground. Heinrich repeated that with the next knight in line. “You must flee while they are paying attention to Sullivan. Carry those who cannot walk. Cross the south wall. Zhao is by the river waiting for you in a patrol boat.”
An Imperium soldier rushed them, long rifle and bayonet aimed at Heinrich’s back, but he was knocked aside at the last instant by Wells. The alienist was still shackled, but he threw the chains over the soldier’s head and twisted until his neck snapped. Wells didn’t have access to his magic, either, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. “Just like a Rockville prison riot,” he explained after Heinrich freed him.
“Herr Doctor, get these men out. Schnell! Hurry!” Once the last of the knights had lost their shackles, Heinrich turned toward the mansion.
“What’re you doing?”
Heinrich bent over, picked up the dropped Arisaka rifle, and kept walking. “Making a difference, I hope.” He worked the bolt action. “Go!”
The Chairman, or the guy that looked exactly like the Chairman but really wasn’t, tried to escape by Traveling.
Faye didn’t find that very sportsmanlike at all.
The real Chairman could Travel too, but what Faye had learned was that there was Traveling, and then there was really Traveling. Any Active could pick a nice safe spot in clear view and hop on over there, but it took an artistic touch and a whole lot of practice to do better than that. The Chairman could do darned near everything, but he wasn’t a specialist like Faye, and he’d paid for that sloppiness with his hands.