I saluted them as I ran past. They’d acted foolishly, but they’d fought back. That was better than most in this city. As I ran, merchants looked up from stalls where they packed away wares. Some people knelt praying to Dawnslight, and they called to me, inviting me to join. I ignored everyone, making my way straight to the edge of the rooftop, then leaped. A moment later I shot into the air on jets of water.
I leaned forward, the buildings blurring past as the spyril powered me down the street. I had to cut the jets to quarter power to drop below a swinging bridge, but I popped back up on the other side, smiling as I caught sight of a dozen or so children lined up, pointing toward me.
My hand radio crackled. “This thing working?” Mizzy asked.
“Yup,” I said back.
No reply.
Right. Stupid thing. I pointedly pushed down the broadcast button. “It’s working, Mizzy,” I said, raising the walkie-talkie to my lips.
“Great.” Her voice was staticky. Sparks! These things were only about one step up from two cans with a string between them.
“I might not always be able to reply,” I said back to her. “When I’m using the spyril, I need both hands to turn.”
“Just try to keep the radio from getting too wet,” Mizzy said. “Old technology doesn’t mix well with water.”
“Understood,” I said back. “I’ll treat it like a giant, angry, man-eating dragon.”
“And … what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, would you throw water on a giant, angry, man-eating dragon?” Buildings full of neon light whooshed past me on either side. At this rate, I’d reach Prof’s location in minutes.
“No sign of the submarine or the others up here, David,” Mizzy said. I had to hold the thing right up to my ear to hear over the sound of the wind. “They should have sent someone to investigate why I went silent. Something must have stopped them.”
“Continue on to Obliteration,” I said. “We don’t have time to waste. Tell me what he’s doing.”
“Gotcha,” Mizzy said.
I just had to—
A spurt of water rose up beside me from below and formed into Regalia. She hung in the air next to me, moving at my same speed, a small line of water connecting her to the ocean’s surface.
“You have upset my plans,” she noted. “I’m not fond of people who do that. Calamity won’t respond to my questions of why you didn’t gain powers.”
I continued jetting along. Maybe she’d keep talking and give me a chance to get closer to Prof.
“What did you do?” she asked. “To reject the boon? I hadn’t thought it possible.”
I gave no reply.
“Very well then,” Regalia said with a sigh. “You realize I can’t let you reach Jonathan. Good night, David Charleston, Steelslayer.”
The water spraying from my jets below suddenly split, blowing out to the sides instead of striking the ocean surface. But I didn’t fall, at least not by much, as the water wasn’t holding me aloft—the force of it jetting out did that. Regalia, it appeared, didn’t quite understand the physics of the spyril. I wasn’t surprised. Epics rarely have to pay attention to physics.
I jetted to the side and ignored her interference, dodging around a building by using the handjet to maneuver. Regalia appeared beside me a moment later, and large columns of water rose from the street below to grab me.
I took a deep breath, tucked my radio in the baggie in my pocket, then threw myself to the side, dodging down another street. Dozens of tendrils from the deep below snaked upward, reaching for me. I had to turn my jets downward and shoot straight up in order to avoid being snared. Unfortunately, Regalia’s tendrils followed, twisting and writhing just beneath me. My jets started to lose power as I got too high—the streambeam could only reach so far.
I had no choice but to twist in the air and jet back downward. I crashed through the side of a tendril, a wash of crisp coldness enveloping me, but exited the other side in a spray. The tendril tried to wrap around me, but it was a hair too slow. They relied on Regalia’s direction to work, and seemed to only be as fast as she could give them orders.
Feeling a boost of confidence, I wove between the other tendrils of water as I fell, wind buffeting my face, before finally twisting and slowing my fall when I was near to the surface. I shot down another street, weaving from side to side as enormous waves of water formed beneath, seeking to crash down upon me. I managed to get out of the way of each one.
“You,” Regalia said, appearing beside me, “are as annoying a rat as Jonathan himself.”
I grinned, spraying downward with the handjet and bobbing myself upward over another growing tendril. I twisted to the side and slashed between two others. I was now thoroughly soaked—hopefully that radio’s baggie would hold.