Toppinir put himself between them. “Hey, this isn’t the time,” he said. “They have a man down, Roy. Lock it down.”
Roy bowed, his face sincerely contrite, and said, “I am sorry.”
Alex didn’t want to let it go, but the sky was full of monsters, and Brath was hurt very badly. “Is there anything we can do for him?” Alex asked as she knelt next to Brath.
Roy paced, scratching the stubble on his face. “Our medic died in the first wave.”
“Don’t you have wizards or someone with healing magic or something?”
“Not in the mech or dragonriders. We’re strictly an artillery squad. Most of the mech riders are human, and the dragonriders aren’t wizards. We riders ain’t known for our magic.”
Toppinir was staring at the sky, his eyes nearly as dark as the clouds. “I can help him,” he said softly. “My ties to magic are stronger than most here. Healing a few burns shouldn’t be a problem.”
With grace and solemnity, Toppinir knelt beside Brath and ran his palm over the gnome’s face while murmuring softly under his breath. The air around Brath changed—grew cold and then warm. The burns on Brath’s body faded like carvings on stone, weathered by wind over the years.
Brath sat up, his eyes opening sleepily as he scratched his face where the burns had been. “What the hell happened?” he asked.
Alex punched Brath in the shoulder. “You flew off like an idiot without thinking of what could happen!” she shouted, pointing at the horde of monsters in the sky. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”
Brath laughed bitterly as he got to his feet. “Isn’t this a suicide mission?” he asked. “Since when are we worrying if we’re going to die?”
Alex didn’t have an answer for Brath’s snide comment. He did have a point. Arguing over who died on a suicide mission was like arguing over who was going to get the first bowl of hot soup; it didn’t matter what order you were in, there was enough to go around, and it was going to get cold soon enough.
Roy and Toppinir were both transfixed by what was going on above. In a morbid way, it was beautiful. Alex had hardly seen the sky in her brief life, but she could never have imagined one looking like this.
The sky reminded her of death. She had never visualized what death looked like, but now she knew it was like this sky. Not the good kind of death, falling asleep in old age and never waking up. This death would be violent and heart-wrenching.
The rest of Alex’s team came over and watched the sky with Alex, Roy, and Toppinir while the dragons gathered in the background, examining Furi’s superficial wounds. All of the mech riders and dragonriders were fascinated with what was going on above. They knew it would have to be dealt with.
A creeping dread started in the back of Alex’s mind, and the hairs on her neck bristled. How are we going to kill all of them? she wondered. It finally dawned on her that there had been no way to save Toppinir and Roy. The two hadn’t been in any immediate danger, they were just up against unbeatable odds.
Roy let out a heavy sigh as he walked over to his mech and climbed in. “Okay, boys and girls, who’s ready for round two?” he asked.
Alex couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The man didn’t sound like he had a problem with the odds they were facing. “Wait, are you serious?” she exclaimed. “Are you really thinking about going up there? Didn’t you see what just happened to Brath?”
Roy lit a cigar. “No offense, but me and my squad aren’t nearly as green as you and your friends,” he wheezed. “We’re not going to go down in a couple of minutes. Maybe a couple of hours, a dozen if we get lucky. We’ll put a dent in them no matter what.”
There was a determined flavor to Roy’s words. Alex had never heard anything like it. Even though she had said earlier she was ready to die, listening to Roy showed her she had been mistaken.
Alex would have fought tooth and nail to stay alive. She would have schemed and plotted and struggled to the bitter end to hold on to her life. Roy didn’t have to say he was willing to give his life for the cause. It was evident in his voice, in his face. The man was all in.
Toppinir would be the voice of reason. He had to be. That must be why he and Roy always teamed up. Roy was the crazy son-of-a-gun, and Toppinir was the cool, calm, collected strategist. The elf must have a plan up his sleeve.
Much to Alex’s dismay, Toppinir went to his dragon and leaped aboard, taking his seat on a saddle–the oldest tech Alex had seen since she’d gotten to Middang3ard. “More than a few hours,” Toppinir said. “I’d say at least twelve unless there are more of those creatures inside of the meteor.”
Alex rushed to Roy and Toppinir, waving her hands like they were capable of grounding the mech and the dragon. “Wait, aren’t you even a little curious to know what that thing is?” she shouted. “It’s obviously not a meteor. Meteors aren’t full of monsters.”
Roy ashed his cigar and leaned over the side of his mech. “Don’t matter, since you kindly pointed out what it’s doing,” he said calmly. “It’s dumping hundreds of vicious creatures into Middang3ard to destroy everything this realm knows. Can’t see how figuring what it is will stop it from doing that.”
Alex turned to Toppinir, hoping to get something other than insanity from the elf. “Are you serious? You don’t even know what that thing is,” she argued. “What if we destroyed it? You saw how all those bats dropped once we killed Holmorth.”
Toppinir
