Paul heard the shouts and cheers first. Then he noticed that most of the machines had stopped in the middle of whatever havoc they’d been inflicting. His soldiers turned to look at something in the distance.
Haggard, beat, exhausted. That was Paul. His arms and legs felt like rubber, and he hurt in roughly seventy-five places. He’d run and jumped and dodged and dove and shot both of his Shurrics almost to their limit. He’d been hit and swept aside by machines. A spinning Ranter had almost taken his head clean off, but Sofia had saved him with a quick burst from her Shurric. It had been her last charge, because she then tossed the weapon aside and started throwing the few Ragers she had left.
It was a miracle, but both of them were still alive. And now something new was happening. Something was going on.
He ran up to her, grabbed her by the hand. She was filthy and bloody and bruised. But she didn’t protest and went with him as they zigzagged their way through the crowd of tall soldiers from the Fifth Reality. It was as if the very air had changed—gotten brighter. The mood had visibly lifted.
He saw why, when they finally made it to a break in the people and machines. Hundreds and hundreds of people—dressed in oranges and reds and browns and blacks and turbans and robes and jeans and sandals and every color and type of clothing he’d ever imagined, and many that he hadn’t—were charging the enemies on both sides. Somewhere in the middle of all that, he thought he saw Rutger.
Rutger.
He and Sofia exchanged a glance, then turned to look at the churning hurricane of fog and mist and lightning. It was still growling and angry. Getting bigger.
Then Paul spotted Master George, lying on his stomach.
Not moving.
Sato had been on the verge of giving up. He hated to admit it to himself, but the truth was the truth. Cold, hard Reality. They were outnumbered, outmanned, and almost out of weaponry. The creatures from the Void kept coming, shooting their beams of flame. The world rocked with thunder and screams.
But now they had help.
A sea of people, dressed in all kinds of clothes, surged forward. They carried all kinds of weapons, some of which Sato had never seen before: red tubes looped around shoulders, connecting a backpack to nozzles held in both hands; long poles with electricity sparking on the end; cubes of blue metal that glowed with a brilliant light. The people came down the slope to join the battle, most of them roaring, eyes aflame. Sato saw Rutger in their midst, cheering them on.
The tide had turned.
Jane limped up to Tick as he stared down at the lifeless face of Reginald Chu. She slipped through the protective bubble of his Chi’karda and put a scarred hand on his shoulder. He turned to face her and saw the mask, which was half-melted. There was only one eye now, half a mouth. Everything else was a smeared ruin of metal. He probably would’ve gasped from shock if he hadn’t felt so numb inside.
“He never had a chance,” she said.
Tick looked over at the silver cube, a third of it buried in a pile of rock and dirt. Something had taken ahold of him inside. A presence. An unmistakable feeling in his heart and unexpected thoughts in his mind that he knew weren’t his own. It was pure power—a lot like Chi’karda in how he could sense it. Where it had come from, he had no idea. But a clear path had suddenly opened before him. It hurt him—hurt him deeply—but he knew he couldn’t stray from it.
Karma. Sofia had called it Karma. He touched a finger to the bag she and Paul had tied to his wrist. Everything in the world was now crystal clear in his mind. He knew his destiny and how to find it.
He walked over and picked up the cube. He turned to Jane.
“I need your help!” he shouted.
She nodded, and he wondered if she felt the power’s presence as well. It was like electricity in the air, and warmth in his veins. Unmistakably there.
Jane pointed to her right. “The heart of the Void is that way. We’re close now.”
Tick and Mistress Jane headed for their destiny—and their doom.
Chapter 69
Becoming One
The ground trembled and shook as they walked across it. Tick’s mind was more focused than ever now, as if some miracle drug had been pumped through his veins. His hold on Chi’karda was absolute.
He was ready for anything.
The winds swept past in torrential gusts, but they did nothing to even stir his clothes. Without hardly thinking about it, his bubble of protection stayed true, as did Jane’s. They’d even learned to control the earthquakes beneath them, squashing their force before they could lift their feet off the ground. The Void noticed, and quit trying. Fists of fog continued to form in the mist, pounding at their shields, thumping and bumping. Nothing broke through.