Ōbhin seized the other window with black-gloved hands. He gripped hard as he suddenly dangled from it. The crystalman lifted it over the carriage head, prepared to hurtle it. A burst of cold energy exploded through his veins, pumping frigid necessity through his body.
He hauled himself upward. The carriage was almost touching the ceiling. He pushed himself out of another window as the thing tossed the vehicle. He fell down the back of the crystalman. The concrete floor rushed up. He raised his left arm to brace himself.
Pain burst through his wrist. He rolled to his side as the vehicle hurtled through the carriage house. He seized his discarded sword, blade half-sunk into the floor, and scrabbled to his feet. Metal crashed behind him as he formed a new plan.
*
To Avena’s relief, Ōbhin spilled out of the back of the carriage before it hurtled out from the crystalman. Then she realized it soared in her direction. Perhaps the automaton had sensed her and wanted to kill them both. Perhaps it was bad luck. Her body struggled to move, but the numbing interference gripped her.
She couldn’t even scream.
Bran darted around Fingers in a blur of inhuman speed. He slammed into her and threw her back. She hurtled to the ground, landed hard. The topaz spilled out of her hand, rolling behind her, flashing orange light. Her vision swam, darkness pulling at her.
The carriage slammed into the vehicle she’d stood behind, bounced and struck Bran’s head. His neck snapped as he was thrown to the ground. The carriage tumbled past, crashing into the side of a third and pushing it into a fourth. Bran hit the floor, his flesh bleeding white.
Fingers let out a strangled cry as he witnessed Bran’s head snap back into place.
Avena fought to hold onto her body, but the interference won. The last thing she saw before being ripped from her body and thrust into her dreams was Bran standing up, his face white clay molding back into shape.
*
Ōbhin ignored his sprained wrist and slashed through the column the crystalman had punched. He sprinted past it, expecting the ceiling to crash down on it. He threw a look over his shoulder to see the automaton turning around and focusing diamond eyes on him.
The column remained standing.
“There’s too much weight for that to work!” Dualayn shouted. “You need to do more than cut through it. You have to do it in such a way that the weight causes it to buckle.”
The solution flashed through Ōbhin’s mind. “Like felling trees!”
He’d seen it enough growing up in the mountain valley. Lumberjacks didn’t cut through a tree, they cut a wedge into the trunk. That caused it to topple over in the direction they wanted. He pictured it in his mind. If he made two diagonal cuts, one slashing downward and the other upward, the force of the ceiling would shove the piece out to the side.
The crystalman advanced on him as he rushed towards the next column, closer to the ramp where Dualayn had dragged Dajouth. The older man pressed a healer onto the younger man’s broken arm. Miguil stood warily nearby, tracking the crystalman, looking for an opening.
This had to work. Ōbhin could see no other way of getting out of this alive. The crystalman thudded after him. Not as fast, but relentless. It knocked a carriage out of the way, metal screeching. Ōbhin reached the column.
He made his first slash high on the column and cut at a downward angle, leaving a thin line just visible in the gray. Then he attacked low. The crystalman closed the distance. He sliced upward, creating a wedge that would pop out of the column and, hopefully, bring down the ceiling.
The column groaned. Stone ground together. The wedge barely shifted before its slide stopped. It was still held in place by the fast weight above. Ōbhin stared in shock at it, almost forgetting death bearing down at him for a moment. Why hadn’t it worked?
“You have to overcome the coefficient of friction!” Dualayn shouted. “You need to hit the column with sufficient force!”
The crystalman swung at Ōbhin.
He threw himself onto his belly out of desperation. The fist roared over his head and struck the column. The blow knocked the wedge a hand’s width to the side. Stone cracked overhead. A pipe burst as more of the wedge shifted out of the way. The ceiling sagged.
Ōbhin scrambled to his feet as the wedge popped out of the column. The weight of not just the ceiling, but the building above and the forest on top lost its support. It all came crashing down in a roar of hungry chaos.
Chunks of the ceiling broke free and hurtled down. The failure spread in a wave over him. A large piece crashed into the crystalman. He threw a look over his shoulder. Jagged slabs crushed carriages. Dust billowed. Fingers scooped up Avena and ran away from the devastation before they were lost to Ōbhin’s sight, obscured by the collapsing debris.
It rained around him and the crystalman. Pieces crashed on the floor beside him. Sharp fragments peppered his legs, knifing through his leather pants. Chimes rang as large chunks hit the automaton. The ground shook. The earth groaned. A cloud of chalk burst around him.
Ōbhin ran.
He took two steps when something slammed into his lower left leg. Pain exploded as he fell face first. The ceiling roared over him. The wave of destruction rushed at him. His ankle throbbed, twisted in the wrong direction.
Broken.
“Niszeh’s Black Tone!” he groaned as he struggled to stand.
“Ōbhin!” Miguil burst out of the dust and seized his arm. He pulled him upright. Ōbhin gripped the groom, leaning on him as he hopped on his good foot. They staggered for the ramp, death crashing down behind them.
A great
