not sure how long I keep going like that, dodging and swinging, acting instead of thinking. Eventually I’m dripping with sweat, my shirt completely soaked through. It’s then that the Lecture Hall’s patterns change; the attacks become less predictable, more coordinated than the auto-program could pull off.
I realize that Sandor has returned and climbed into the Lectern’s seat, his fingers dancing across the control panel.
Our eyes meet as I leap over a metal-plated battering ram. His look is one of sadness and disappointment.
“You didn’t pack,” he says.
I square my shoulders and glare at him in defiance. Go ahead, I want to tell him, throw everything you can at me. I can take it.
I’m going to prove to Sandor that I’m not his young ward anymore.
“I suppose one last training session before we leave won’t hurt,” Sandor says.
A glimmering tennis ball – sized object floats up from the floor, emitting a disorienting strobe light. It makes the next round of projectiles harder to see, but I manage to catch them in the air, using my mind to hold them inches from my bruised chest.
“That hasn’t been decided yet,” I say evenly as I launch one of the projectiles at the flashing ball, exploding it. It clatters to the floor, blinking out.
“What hasn’t been decided?” he asks.
“That we’re leaving.”
“No?”
A pair of heavy bags careen toward me, quickly followed by another volley of ball bearings. I swing the pipe-staff as hard as I can at one of them, my muscles screaming in protest. The pipe-staff shreds through the bag, sending sand spilling onto the floor.
One of the ball bearings strikes me in the hip, but I catch the others and hurl them back the way they came. The turrets in the wall hiss and pop when the ball bearings reenter their barrels the wrong way. There’s a short puff of smoke and then they hang dormant.
“I get a vote,” I tell him. “And I vote we stay.”
“That’s impossible,” Sandor replies. “You don’t understand what’s at stake. You’re not thinking clearly.”
Three drones deploy from the floor. I’ve never fought that many at once before. One is the propeller-powered toaster that just days ago we were trying out on the roof. The others I haven’t seen before. They’re the size of soccer balls, metal plated, with scopes attached to the front.
The toaster bobs in front of me, distracting me as the other two flank me. When they’re in position, the soccer balls emit two bursts of electricity, jolting me.
I retreat toward the back of the room, the drones zapping at me. My ears are ringing from the last shock. The drones close in, pursuing me. I’m running out of room.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I run up the wall. My aim was to flip off the wall, to land behind the drones, but something is different. I don’t feel gravity pulling at me. I plant my feet.
I’m standing on the wall. Except for a sudden feeling of vertigo, it feels no different than standing on the ground.
My Legacy. I’ve developed one of my Legacies.
Staring at me, Sandor is too stunned to adjust the course of the drones. The toaster crashes into the wall. From above, I swing my pipe-staff down on the two floating soccer balls, destroying them both.
Sandor lets out a cry of triumph.
“Do you see?” he shouts. “Do you see what you’re capable of? My young ward gets an upgrade!”
“Upgrade?” I growl.
I run up the rest of the wall and onto the ceiling. The room turns upside down. I sprint across the ceiling that’s now the floor to me, gathering up a head of steam. When I’m right above Sandor and the Lectern I jump, twist in midair, and bring my pipe-staff shearing down on the Lectern.
The control panel explodes in a waterfall of sparks. Sandor dives aside, grunting as he lands hard on his shoulder. My pipe-staff has carved deep into the front of the Lectern, practically cutting it in two. It lets out a series of ear-splitting mechanical squawks, and
I realize that Sandor has returned and climbed into the Lectern’s seat, his fingers dancing across the control panel.
Our eyes meet as I leap over a metal-plated battering ram. His look is one of sadness and disappointment.
“You didn’t pack,” he says.
I square my shoulders and glare at him in defiance. Go ahead, I want to tell him, throw everything you can at me. I can take it.
I’m going to prove to Sandor that I’m not his young ward anymore.
“I suppose one last training session before we leave won’t hurt,” Sandor says.
A glimmering tennis ball – sized object floats up from the floor, emitting a disorienting strobe light. It makes the next round of projectiles harder to see, but I manage to catch them in the air, using my mind to hold them inches from my bruised chest.
“That hasn’t been decided yet,” I say evenly as I launch one of the projectiles at the flashing ball, exploding it. It clatters to the floor, blinking out.
“What hasn’t been decided?” he asks.
“That we’re leaving.”
“No?”
A pair of heavy bags careen toward me, quickly followed by another volley of ball bearings. I swing the pipe-staff as hard as I can at one of them, my muscles screaming in protest. The pipe-staff shreds through the bag, sending sand spilling onto the floor.
One of the ball bearings strikes me in the hip, but I catch the others and hurl them back the way they came. The turrets in the wall hiss and pop when the ball bearings reenter their barrels the wrong way. There’s a short puff of smoke and then they hang dormant.
“I get a vote,” I tell him. “And I vote we stay.”
“That’s impossible,” Sandor replies. “You don’t understand what’s at stake. You’re not thinking clearly.”
Three drones deploy from the floor. I’ve never fought that many at once before. One is the propeller-powered toaster that just days ago we were trying out on the roof. The others I haven’t seen before. They’re the size of soccer balls, metal plated, with scopes attached to the front.
The toaster bobs in front of me, distracting me as the other two flank me. When they’re in position, the soccer balls emit two bursts of electricity, jolting me.
I retreat toward the back of the room, the drones zapping at me. My ears are ringing from the last shock. The drones close in, pursuing me. I’m running out of room.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I run up the wall. My aim was to flip off the wall, to land behind the drones, but something is different. I don’t feel gravity pulling at me. I plant my feet.
I’m standing on the wall. Except for a sudden feeling of vertigo, it feels no different than standing on the ground.
My Legacy. I’ve developed one of my Legacies.
Staring at me, Sandor is too stunned to adjust the course of the drones. The toaster crashes into the wall. From above, I swing my pipe-staff down on the two floating soccer balls, destroying them both.
Sandor lets out a cry of triumph.
“Do you see?” he shouts. “Do you see what you’re capable of? My young ward gets an upgrade!”
“Upgrade?” I growl.
I run up the rest of the wall and onto the ceiling. The room turns upside down. I sprint across the ceiling that’s now the floor to me, gathering up a head of steam. When I’m right above Sandor and the Lectern I jump, twist in midair, and bring my pipe-staff shearing down on the Lectern.
The control panel explodes in a waterfall of sparks. Sandor dives aside, grunting as he lands hard on his shoulder. My pipe-staff has carved deep into the front of the Lectern, practically cutting it in two. It lets out a series of ear-splitting mechanical squawks, and
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