Britton pushed the rotors as hard as he dared. He cleared the roof sides with inches to spare and felt his bones jar as the helicopter made a textbook hard landing. The four assaulters leapt off — Goodman and Dawes covering the entrance. Young and Hertzog were already coating the roof with foam to keep the fire from spreading. The rotor wash peeled the tar paper back, sending the thick gravel beneath skittering across the rooftop.
The metal door flew open, and the boy and girl from the video raced out, coughing and beating at their smoldering hair.
“Contact front!” Young called, then screamed at the kids to get down.
Britton pulled hard on the collective, adjusting the rotor pitch to get the Kiowa airborne. The girl broke from the doorway, reaching out toward the helicopter. The dancing gravel shuddered, spun, and coalesced into a humanoid shape, the stone stretching and flowing together into a man-shaped stone creature, eight feet tall. The tar paper lowered as the gravel beneath drew up into the giant form, its huge shoulders reflecting the flickering firelight from veins of quartz. The rock elemental gripped one of the helicopter skids with a gravelly fist, yanking down hard. There was a roar, a whine of metal, and the Kiowa lurched to one side. Britton heard successive bangs as the rotors collided with the rooftop, breaking into pieces. The helo’s body grounded against the roof, shielding the team from the splintering blades, which sounded against its metal cabin with sharp reports.
Cheatham sagged in his safety harness, punching at the release. “I’m stuck, sir.”
Britton could see the girl continuing to gesture. The wind, whipped into dusty funnels by the breaking rotors, coalesced into human shapes, plunging among the assaulters, who cried out, firing as they fell back to the roof’s edge. The air elementals spun among them, their flexing tornado forms spinning shreds of tar paper, broken gravel, and spent ammunition casings. Dawes squeezed off two shots that punched through one of the creatures harmlessly before it swatted him with a gale that knocked him flat against the roof’s lip. He slammed against it hard, the thickness of his body armor protecting his spine and saving him from going over the edge.
They had landed to take on two Selfers. Within moments, they faced a small army.
Britton knew that to stop the elementals, they’d have to take out the girl.
“TOC! We’ve got sentient elemental conjuration up here! We’re pinned down!” Britton shouted into the microphone, yanking his pistol from its holster.
“Goddamn it!” Harlequin said. “I knew this would happen!” Britton heard more gunfire, then a deafening explosion from the direction of the shooting. He looked over Cheatham’s shoulder to see the boy wreathed in a tornado of flame. Bullets pocked the wall around the Selfer, tore holes in his chest and legs as he thrust his hands forward and arced the burning funnel towards Dawes with such force that bricks went flying. The blast flew wild, but the edge caught Dawes as he dove to the side. The intense heat ignited the helicopter’s side, the metal sparking white as it burned away in patches, mixing with the dripping remnants of the windscreen. The fuel tank kicked outward with a bang, the blast catching Dawes as he sprawled on the roof. Cheatham’s flight suit smoldered, but the Kiowa’s shell shielded him from the blast. The tar paper vaporized, the gravel beneath heated white-hot, the stones exploding like gunshots.
One of the SOC assaulters had rappelled to the roof and leveled his carbine at the girl. She glanced at him, and the lingering flames erupted, spawning three man-shaped figures. They launched themselves at him, pounding with flickering fists. He screamed as his helmet melted, the covering of his armor burning away, ceramic plates beneath turning white-hot. Young and Hertzog turned the fire suppressors on them, drowning the elementals in foam. The creatures stayed on the assaulter, burning him even as they diminished under the flame-retardant chemicals.
Britton finally punched out of the restraints and fell out of the helicopter, his shoulder striking the roof hard enough to jar his teeth. He aimed his pistol at the girl, squeezing the trigger as a rock elemental stepped between them, the bullet whining off the shifting stone.
The misshapen head drove forward. Britton dodged, but it only moved him into the elemental’s arms, which pinned his own, squeezing hard. Britton dropped the pistol and gasped for breath, his ribs flexing. His vision began to gray.
Harlequin’s boots landed on the roof with a thud.
The Aeromancer lifted his arms, and dark clouds spun around his hands, pulsing with angry electricity. Lightning burst forth in a dazzling arc, tearing off the elemental’s head and missing Britton by inches. Electricity pulsed through the thing’s shoulders, grounding through the gravel so that Britton only felt a slight twinge of electric current. Rock flowed up to form a new head as the elemental turned to face the new threat, releasing Britton, who sucked down air, cradling his battered ribs.
One of the air elementals, its vaguely human outline marked by swirling dust, leapt over the helo toward them. Harlequin extended a hand, and a gale swept into it, its shape blurring as it was blown apart, scattering dozens of bullet casings swept up in its funneling form.
“That’s one you owe me, Lieutenant,” Harlequin said, as Britton scrambled to his feet and retrieved his gun. “I told you you’d just get in the damn way.” He leapt into the sky, turning toward the girl, only to be caught by another air elemental that had formed itself into a spinning funnel. Harlequin spun into its recesses, cursing, battered by gravel caught in the funnel’s center. The air elemental contracted on itself, spinning the Aeromancer dizzy, and both swept over the side of the roof.
The rock elemental, its head restored, stormed toward the rest of the assault team, who battled the small army of elementals. Goodman turned the machine gun on the creature, funneling the heavy-caliber rounds until they ripped a sizeable hole in its torso, almost tearing it in half. The elemental stumbled, then paused, head inclined as the rock flowed to seal the gap. Goodman cursed and fell back.
The SOC bird descended toward them. The Pyromancer, a blazing human torch, balanced on one skid. The other SOC assaulter stood on the opposite side of the helicopter, sheltering from the magical flames in the cool night air. Britton could see him trying to sight the girl, but the running fight between assaulter and elemental obscured his target.
But when Britton rolled out around the helicopter’s nose, leading with his pistol, all he could see was a teenager, tears tracking through her makeup. Even as she concentrated on sustaining her magic, she looked terrified.
The SOC assaulter lay dead in his melted armor. The boy sat against the metal door, he thrashed, spouting random gouts of flame. His chest and gut were a ragged collection of entry wounds. The girl stood beside him, sobbing.
Britton knelt, sighting down his pistol, blowing out his breath and taking his time.
He fired by the book, easing the trigger backward, not anticipating the recoil, letting the gun go off.
But he couldn’t. He pulled his shot at the last minute. The bullet broke low and left, clipping the girl’s side, sending her spinning in a circle.
He felt a hammerblow to his shoulder and pitched forward, skinning his nose. He rolled over onto his back, firing two more shots into another rock elemental that had one fist raised. The bullets sparked as they ricocheted off the thing’s chest. Britton tried to roll to one side, knowing it wouldn’t matter, waiting for the crushing impact of the blow that would smash his skull.
But the blow never came. When Britton opened his eyes, the elemental had collapsed into a pile of gravel, cascading over his boots. He kicked out from under it and got to his feet in time to see the remaining assaulters blinking in amazement as the elemental onslaught suddenly broke off.
Then the screaming reached them.
Dawes, burning brightly, clawed the air. His carbine was a melted mass. Young doused him with foam, cursed, and dragged him by one boot toward a puddle of rainwater. Britton ran to his Kiowa for the medkit. He was intercepted by Cheatham, who had freed himself from his restraints and carried it. In a moment, the fire was out, and Britton and Cheatham were kneeling beside Dawes, spreading burn gel over his wounds.
Harlequin, recovered from his battle with the air elemental, returned to the roof and landed beside them. He
