The gun went flying over the heads of Barrayar and the other mage, and as it did I sorted through the futures, pushing away hundreds, choosing one. The weapon hit the floor and went off, chattering flame. Bullets tore into the shield’s weaker side, some breaking through. The other mage staggered, his shield flickering.
Anne struck instantly. Green-and-black death flashed down the hallway, and the other mage died.
My precognition shouted a warning. I looked across to see Caldera in the doorway to the swimming pool, dripping wet and furious. Ignoring Anne, she raised a hand towards me. The gallery cracked and broke under my feet, the metal railing twisting as the stone came rumbling down.
I jumped clear of the avalanche, hitting the floor and rolling as the gallery fell in a cloud of dust and a roar. The mantis golem was lining up another shot, and I sprinted through another doorway and out of sight.
I’d come through into a canteen. White tables dotted the room, with orange-upholstered benches along the walls. Trays and half-eaten food were still laid out. A cloud of dust hung in the air around the doorway, obscuring sight.
I could still hear shouts from the entrance hall, combined with flashes of magic and the sounds of running feet. Caldera had broken off her pursuit—even she wasn’t going to run right past Anne in battle mode—but the mantis golem hadn’t. It would be on me in another ten seconds. I unclipped the wand from my belt and waited.
Heavy footfalls sent a tremble through the floor, and the mantis golem loomed out of the dust, striding forward before planting its feet and coming to a halt. I studied the construct, watching the solid line of its future shift in response to my actions. The golem was seven feet tall and looked like an enormous insect sculpted in silver and gold, with faceted eyes and triple-jointed legs. The upper two arms held a sword and some sort of stunning weapon; the lower two held the metal energy projector. Mantis golems are enormously strong, and invulnerable to all but the most powerful attack spells. But this wasn’t the first time I’d fought one, and I knew their weaknesses. They’re slow moving, they’re stupid, and those energy projectors they carry are deadly but unstable.
The mantis golem aimed its projector at my chest.
I’d been waiting with the wand aimed. I sent a surge of energy into the focus; its tip glowed red and a beam of scorching red light went down the energy projector’s barrel, piercing its inner workings just as it tried to fire.
The projector exploded in a burst of golden light, shards of white-hot metal flying in all directions. I’d closed my eyes against the flash; as I opened them I saw that the middle section of the golem was melted and shredded. Both lower hands had been destroyed; the armour on the abdomen had been burned away to reveal glowing silver veins with deep gouges from the shrapnel.
The golem ignored the horrific damage. It stood still for a moment, momentarily blocked in fulfilling its command, then the futures shifted and it began striding forward, its footsteps sending tremors through the floor, the sword and stun weapon lifted. I studied the golem as it closed in. I could make out the spell powering the golem, chains binding the spirit at the construct’s heart. It was enormously complex, energies working in weave and counterbalance. The sword whistled out and I stepped back, still calculating. There were holes in the construct’s armour, and a shot would hurt it, but if I wanted a kill . . .
There. A tiny node where several lines of energy met. I didn’t understand how it worked or why that spot was the one that mattered, but that’s how it is when you’re a diviner. I used the fateweaver, sifting through the lines of the construct’s future.
The construct attacked again and I dodged, my movements neat and precise. A table came between me and the construct and was crushed to splinters. The sword made a whistling noise as it passed my head; that blade was heavier than any normal sword and one hit would explode my skull like a water balloon. The future I needed drew closer and I set my foot back, getting into position. Duck the sword, step aside from the stun . . . and for an instant, the golem’s movements caused the rents in its armour to line up, exposing its core.
I fired the wand, and the scent of ozone filled the air. The golem didn’t react, reversing the sword for another strike. I ducked the backswing and fired again, the beam spearing the construct, burning into its heart.
The energy node snapped. Strands of magic lashed as the spell went wild, restraints breaking. The golem shuddered and came to a halt, the light going out of its eyes. Something huge and formless seemed to flow out of the construct’s legs and down into the earth: I had a fleeting sense of some ancient presence, cold and massive, then it was gone. The golem was a lifeless statue, arms extended and still.
Weakness rippled through me, the wand suddenly feeling like it weighed twenty pounds. There’s a reason I don’t like these kinds of combat focuses: those three shots had used up too much of my own energy. I clipped it to my belt and strode out of the canteen.
The entrance hall was empty. Bodies of humans and constructs littered the floor, and a haze of dust hung in the air, but there were no traces of the survivors or the other golem. Skirmish battles are fast: my fight with the golem had taken only a minute or two, but that had been more than enough time for the battle to move on. I could hear running footsteps in the distance, but there was no sign of Barrayar or Anne.
At the end of the hall was a pair of closed double doors that looked like they led somewhere important. I started walking, and as I did reached out through the dreamstone. November.
Oh! Oh good, you’re still—I mean, I’m glad you’re well.
What’s the status at the War Rooms?
They’re restricting official communications to synchronous focuses, November answered, but I’ve managed to gather some data. Apparently they’re quite agitated. Orders are still to stay on high alert in preparation for an anticipated attack on the War Rooms.
Levistus getting any reinforcements?
No. Actually, one call I intercepted gave the impression that he’s been calling personally. No one seems very keen to help.
I was nearly at the double doors: I looked to see what would happen if I opened them and walked through. Send the money and notices we discussed to that adept team now.
. . . Done. I have receipt of transfer.
Good.
The double doors were thick wood, heavy and unlocked. I pushed them open and stepped to one side.
A violet disc of force blurred past, cutting through the space I’d been occupying a second ago. “Hi, guys,” I called from around the wall.
The room beyond the doors was a gate room, designed for entry and exit. The floor was dull metal with a polished sheen. Columns of rough, unworked stone ran from floor to ceiling, illuminated with an eerie green light, and flanking the columns were plain metal walls spaced to allow for gating. At the back, a raised observation gallery ran from wall to wall; the gallery was fronted with one-way glass that made it impossible to see in. At the centre of the room, three mobile barricades had been set up, heavy steel shields reinforced with magic and standing five feet tall.
There were four people in the room: Caldera, and the three adept mercenaries I’d run into at Heron Tower. Caldera and Crash were behind the left and right barricades, while Stickleback and Jumper were behind the back one. I could sense defensive spells designed to deflect ranged attacks coming in from outside. On top of that, the wards that prevented gate and teleportation magic over the mansion were limited within this specific area, meaning that Jumper would be able to use his teleportation abilities just fine.