I twisted in midair and my feet hit concrete with a jarring thud. “Ow!” Starbreeze said. “That hurt!” She fled, disappearing.
I stood. Unlike Heron Tower, the top of this skyscraper was a construction site. A tower crane rose from the roof centre like a gigantic tree, its blue-triangle column stretching up into the sky. Pipes, steel beams, and building materials were scattered around, and a high fence prevented anyone from jumping or falling. There were some buildings at the far end that I knew had roof access. I also knew I wasn’t going to get the time to reach them.
A figure jumped from the roof of Heron Tower, crossing the sixty feet in one impossibly long leap and landing on the roof with a boom. It was one of the mercenaries, the black guy. A second later, mercenaries two and three blinked into existence forty feet away, the Japanese guy holding the shoulder of the woman. All three looked at me, sizing me up.
“Can we talk about this?” I asked.
The black guy charged.
I stood still for a second as the adept pounded towards me, studying him in present and future. The adept—Crash—was big and fast; he moved with more-than-natural strength and came in for an attack strong enough to break bones. I ducked at the last second and tripped him, sending him flying, then sprinted towards the other two.
The woman, Stickleback, watched me coolly as I closed the distance. Her hands glowed with a faint violet light as a disc of translucent force appeared between them, growing, rotating, and starting to spin all in a fraction of a second before it flashed out at me at knee-height like a giant flying saw blade. I jumped over it, but she was already making a second, followed by a third. I dodged each one, closing the distance. Thirty feet, twenty feet, ten—
The Japanese man hadn’t taken his hand off the woman’s shoulder. Space magic pulsed, and the two of them vanished, reappearing sixty feet behind me.
I turned to look at them. That is really annoying.
Pounding feet announced Crash’s arrival. I stepped away from a reverse spin kick that would have shattered my skull, then gave ground against the punches that followed. Crash responded to my lack of aggression by pressing in; I took the opening and hit him with a palm strike to the face. It should have broken his nose, but instead my hand stung as if I’d hit wood, and Crash rocked back, catching himself and watching me with calculating eyes.
Protective force magic, evasive teleportation. I didn’t have time to get through that many defences. I broke contact, running left.
Stickleback responded, throwing discs of force. I weaved, letting the discs pass ahead and behind. Stickleback and Jumper were near the roof’s edge and I cut across the middle. The futures I was looking for lined up and I sent a surge of energy through the fateweaver.
Stickleback threw another force disc and I dropped flat. The disc sailed over my head with a hiss and struck the base of the tower crane, the force magic shearing through steel. With a shriek and a groan of twisting metal, the crane fell, toppling straight towards Stickleback and Jumper.
Stickleback looked up at the monstrous thing falling towards her, and her eyes went wide. Jumper teleported just in time, and both of them vanished as the crane came down with a horrific crash, splintering the fence as the cross-beam of the crane smashed down onto the top of Heron Tower.
Dust and particles swept up into the air. The crane, which had once risen vertically into the air, now formed a crooked bridge between Heron Tower and the skyscraper I was on. The three mercenaries were all staring at the destruction, and before they could decide what to do next, I dashed along the side of the fallen crane, and jumped through the gap in the fence and out into space.
Wind roared around my ears as I plummeted. Er, November said as the cars below me grew larger and larger, along with the pale spots of faces looking upwards. I’m detecting some odd signals. Is everything going according to plan?
Fine! I pulled a life ring from my pocket and broke it, leaving it as late as possible. Blood rushed through my body as I decelerated, the magic slowing me down just in time to drop the last few feet safely to the tarmac.
Scattered screams sounded, trailing off: several people had seen me fall and were now staring in confusion. Two police cars were blocking off the street at the intersection, and a uniformed officer was looking at me openmouthed. I sprinted past him and turned north up Bishopsgate.
Oh. Well, that’s a relief.
There were more police outside Heron Tower and a couple turned to look as I ran, but most were shading their eyes as they looked up towards the broken crane above. On an unrelated note, I told November, I could use the exact departure times of mainline trains from Liverpool Street Station in the next, say, three to five minutes.
Of course. Er, I don’t mean to worry you, but there’s an alert going out on police frequencies for someone that matches your description rather closely. Apparently you’re considered a suspect for a terrorist attack on Heron Tower and to be apprehended on sight.
Just get me those trains.
The plaza outside Liverpool Street Station was busy, commuters hurrying back and forth. Police lights were flashing farther up the road. I saw the black of police uniforms moving towards me and I turned quickly aside and down the escalators into Liverpool Street Station.
The station was huge, filled with noise and people. Departure boards blinked along the right-hand side, above the ticket gates. I wound my way through the crowds, searching the futures for signs of pursuit. Nothing yet, but through the crowds, I saw a pair of police officers at the centre of the station floor, and the futures in which I got too close to them turned violent fast.
The next train departing Liverpool Street will be the Greater Anglia service to Norwich from platform eleven, leaving in—
What are the police saying?
There was an unconfirmed sighting of you descending onto the main floor of Liverpool Street Station. They’re asking for additional units to seal the exits.
I briefly considered knocking the two police out, but it would draw too much attention. Besides, it would be really bad if I was in the middle of dealing with them and—
The futures shifted.
—and something like that happened. I turned right, bumping past someone dragging a heavy suitcase, and strode through the ticket gates. As I did, I reached out through the dreamstone. Cinder.
Cinder replied straightaway, sounding bad-tempered. Where are you?
Liverpool Street Station. You still engaged?
No, they’re all chasing you. Where’s Del?
Chasing me, where do you think? The massive iron-and-glass roof of the train sheds arched overhead. Liverpool Street’s platform area is huge enough that I could count on the police taking some time to track me down. My magical pursuers were another story.
The Greater Anglia train was white-painted with red doors, humming. A whistle shrilled from down the platform as I stepped aboard. Only a few seconds later, the beep-beep-beep sounded, and the doors hissed shut.