The City of Mirrors (The Passage #3)

The horde rumbled toward them. Its speed was tremendous. Random shots split the air—men adrenalized with terror who could not restrain the urge to fire their weapons.

Peter pressed the radio to his mouth. “Hold your fire! Wait till they’re in range!”

The stars were disappearing, blotted out by the great dust cloud that ascended in the virals’ wake. The pod had taken the form of an arrowlike wedge.

“Looks like the negotiation phase is over,” Apgar said.

More panicked shots; the pod kept coming. They would drive straight through the gate, splitting it like a bull’s-eye.

“Hang on a second,” Apgar said. He was watching through binoculars. “Something’s off.”

“What are you seeing?”

“They’re moving differently. Short leaps, long strides in between, like the older ones do.” He pulled the lenses away. “I think these are dopeys.”

Something was happening. The pod was decelerating.

From the spotting platform, a cry went up: “Riders! Two hundred yards!”

Prepare yourselves.

Amy slowed Soldier to a canter, then a trot.

We will defend this city. We will hold this gate, my brothers and sisters of blood.

Flowing like a liquid, her forces spread. Amy moved among them. She dared not show fear; her courage would be theirs. She rode with her back erect, Soldier’s reins held lightly in one hand, the other extended in a gesture of blessing, like a priest.

They were people once, like you. But they follow another, the Zero.

A thousand long, three hundred deep, Amy’s forces formed a protective barrier along the northern wall and turned to face the field. To the east, the first edge of moon was peeking above the hills.

Do not hesitate, for they will not. Kill them, my brothers and sisters, but always with a blessing of mercy in your heart.

She felt the eyes of the soldiers upon her, the posts and crosshairs of their guns. The great dust cloud was settling. A taste of grit was in her mouth.

Stand tall. Have courage. Show him who and what you are.

They brought their horses to a halt at the front of the line. Amy removed the pistol from her belt, passed it to Alicia, and drew the sword from over her back. The grip possessed a satisfying thickness, comfortable in the hand. She rocked her wrist to turn its blade in the air.

“This is a fine weapon, sister.”

“I was sort of guessing when I made it.”

Her mind was composed, her thoughts ordered and calm. There was fear, but also relief and, on top of this, curiosity about what would come.

“I’ve never gone into battle,” she said. “What is it like?”

“It’s very … busy.”

Amy considered this.

“Things happen fast. You won’t even be aware of them until later. Most will seem like they happened to somebody else.”

“I suppose that makes a lot of sense.” Then: “Alicia, if I don’t survive—”

“One other thing.”

“What’s that?”

Alicia met her eye. “You’re not allowed to say things like that.”

On the rampart, chaos reigned. Runners were dashing, fingers were twitching on triggers, nobody knew what to do. Hold fire? They’re virals! And why are they facing the wrong direction?

“I mean it,” Peter barked into the radio, “all stations, stand down now!” He tossed Apgar the radio and turned to the closest runner. “Private, get me a harness.”

“Peter, you are not going out there,” Apgar said.

“Amy can protect me. You can see it for yourself. They’re here to defend us.”

“I don’t care if they’re here to fix the plumbing—you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Do not make me tackle you, because I will absolutely do that.”

The soldier darted his eyes to Peter, then the general, then back again. “Sir, should I get the harness or not?”

“Private, you take one step and I’m going to pitch you over that wall,” Apgar said.

Another cry from the spotter: “We have movement! The riders are moving away!”

Peter looked up. “What do you mean away?”

A face floated over the rail. A quick conferral with someone behind him, then the man pointed due north. “Across the field, sir!”

Peter stepped back to the edge of the rampart and raised his binoculars. “Gunnar, are you seeing this?”

“What they doing?” Apgar said. “Are they surrendering?”

With a puff of dust, Amy and Alicia brought their horses to a halt. Amy drew and raised the sword. It was not a gesture of capitulation but defiance.

They were setting themselves as bait.

“Fanning, do you hear me?!”

Amy’s words dwindled into the gloom.

“If you want me, come and get me!”

“Should we go further out?” Alicia asked.

“If we do, we might not make it back.” Then, raising her voice again: “Are you listening? I’m right here, you bastard!”

Alicia waited. Still nothing. Then:

You have done well, Alicia.

She pressed her hands over her ears, a pointless reflex; Fanning’s voice was inside her.

Everything I could have wished for, you have accomplished. Her army is nothing, I can whisk it away. You have given me that, and so much more.

“Shut up! Leave me alone!”

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