The Gauntlet (The Cage 3)

She swallowed hard as she took in the bodies. Despite the Gatherer and Mosca and Kindred uniforms, over half were, in reality, Axion.

“So many of them,” Mali said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. Suddenly the room lurched violently to the side, and Mali grabbed Leon’s arm to keep him from being thrown to the floor. “The structure isn’t stable anymore!” she called over the din. “It could be ripped apart! We’ve got to get Cora out of there.” She pointed toward the portal door.

“We can’t.” Cassian came out of the rubble, the flickering lights making his eyes look hollow and grim. “She’s the only hope we still have. The Axion can try to impersonate us, but they can’t impersonate the stock algorithm. They can’t alter a computer program. Cora has to finish. She must win. It’s the only thing that will give us enough power now to stop them.”

“But they’re exposed!” Leon said. “Their plan’s shot to pieces. They’ll try anything to stop her, even if it means ripping the Gauntlet apart with their own hands.”

“That is why we have to hold them off,” Cassian said. “We have to give her a chance.”

Suddenly, the shrill frequency stopped.

Mali felt a swell of relief to hear herself think again, but it only lasted a moment. A growl sounded as a dusty shadow ran up behind Cassian.

“Behind you!” she yelled.

Cassian ducked as an Axion in a Gatherer’s robes tried to slam a piece of debris at his head. Cassian straightened and stepped hard on the Axion’s too-long robe and shoved the creature to the floor, then smashed his other boot in the Axion’s face.

“Hold them off!” Cassian yelled. “Don’t let them stop the Gauntlet!”

Mali needed no further encouragement. She exchanged a quick nod with Leon, who spun on an Axion delegate who was running toward one of the broken monitors. Leon grabbed a piece of broken glass and slammed it into the Axion’s face.

The room lurched again, and more storm water poured through the ceiling. Mali slipped and fell just as an Axion loomed over her. She drew back her foot to kick the Axion off-balance, but a loose piece of debris flew over her head, slamming into him.

Mali jerked around to find Serassi already picking up another piece of debris to use as a projectile. Willa was next to her, leaping into the high rafters and kicking over an Axion with the momentum.

“Where’s Ironmage?” Mali called to Serassi.

“Still unconscious,” Serassi said. Maybe for the better, Mali thought, not to know yet that his brother was dead. Anger swelled in her blood. Bonebreak had saved their lives. He’d redeemed himself, he’d stayed and fought, he’d even sacrificed himself.

She squeezed her hands into fists.

He couldn’t have died for nothing.

She tossed her head up and recognized a flash of white. Anya’s clothes. The Axion who had been impersonating her was fighting with Redrage and another Mosca near the rear wall of monitors. The anger inside her concentrated harder.

For Bonebreak.

For Anya.

For everyone who wanted to be free.

“Willa!” she cried, catching sight of the chimpanzee swinging in the rafters. “Help me!” She jerked a finger toward the impostor Anya, and Willa gave a quick nod and hurled herself from rafter to rafter toward the Axion. Mali raced along below her, dodging the worst of the fighting. Willa reached the Axion first. She threw herself from the rafters, slamming into the Axion’s back. The impact brought Redrage crashing down too.

“Go,” Mali said to Redrage. “Help Ironmage in the recess room. Leave this one to me.”

Redrage, limping hard on her right leg, gave a quick nod.

Mali turned to the Axion, who had been shoved to the ground by Willa. Mali smashed her fist into his face, as silver blood spurted down the front of Anya’s clothes.

“Where is she?” Mali demanded. “Where’s Anya?”

The Axion grinned his silver teeth, tight skin stretching over high cheekbones. “It doesn’t matter,” he hissed. “You won’t leave this planet to find her. We’ll stop the Gauntlet. We’ll soon rule again, as we were born to do.”

Willa huffed in anger and pinned the Axion’s hand back as Mali slammed another fist into his face. He only laughed again, those silver teeth sparkling. Anger swelled in her until all she could see was red. She grabbed the closest piece of wreckage, one of the chair legs from the judges’ dais. The end was torn and jagged.

“You aren’t stopping the Gauntlet,” she said. “Cora will win.” She pressed the chair leg against his neck.

“She still has one break left,” he said, coughing. “The moment she steps outside that door, she’ll never step back in to finish round three. We’ll stop her.”

Worry made Mali hesitate—she glanced over at the Gauntlet door. He was right. Any moment Cora would finish round two. She’d be spit out straight into this chaos.

“Willa,” she said, “find Cassian. Tell him he has to watch that portal door. Tell him when Cora comes out, he has to protect her.”

Willa gave a nod and leaped onto the nearest bench. Mali searched the room for Cassian, and her stomach curled when she saw him. He and the Axion impostor who’d posed as Fian were facing off against each other, a chasm in the floor between them. Water filled the pit, crackling now with life, electrified by rogue wires.

The Axion who’d been disguised as Anya snickered beneath Mali’s hands. “You see? You can’t stop us.”

“Like hell we can’t.” It was Leon. Mali’s heart lifted. He crouched beside them. “And when we do, we’re going to rescue Anya and everyone else you’ve kidnapped and replaced. And we’re going to enjoy torturing their locations out of you.”

He smiled at Mali and nodded toward the broken piece of metal in her hand. “Would you like to do the honor of torturing him, or should I?”

35

Cora

THE THRILL OF HAVING defeated puzzle eight still hummed through Cora like the lingering notes of a song. The paragon burst had made her feel light-headed at first, but now, as she made her way across the stage toward the doorway that would take her back to her friends, she felt focused. Strong. Complete—or as complete as she could be without her memories. Humanity pulsed beneath her skin, making her realize that being human wasn’t just about memories, but about feeling what all people felt—fear and desire, hope and anguish. About finding one’s own way to belong.

But as she approached the open doorway, the acrid smell of smoke reached her. An electrical fire? A piercing, high-pitched squeal made her clamp her hands over her ears. Her footsteps sped. Something had happened. That jolt she’d felt in the cornfield—had it been an explosion after all?

She raced across the stage toward the door. How long had she taken to complete round two? An hour? A lot could happen in an hour. And the stock algorithm had a way of making time move strangely. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours.

She reached the doorway and gasped. Beyond, the central vestibule was in pieces. Broken beams hung from the ceiling, wires sparking dangerously as water poured off them. The judges’ dais was shattered in two, as if a fireball had swept through the room. And the bodies. Dozens of them, prostrate and unmoving. The delegates and aides who had survived were fighting among themselves. She pressed a hand to her mouth. Gatherer fighting against Mosca. Human against Axion. Kindred against Kindred.

It made no sense.

She cried out as she recognized the two figures fighting where the dais had once been. It was Cassian, his uniform ripped across one arm, and Fian. Or rather, someone in Fian’s clothes. A woman. She was more than two feet shorter than Fian. Wiry and thin, with pronounced bones. Fian’s clothes sagged off her small frame. Her stature didn’t make her any less dangerous, though. She slammed her elbow into Cassian’s ribs. He doubled over.

“Cassian!”

But he didn’t hear her in the commotion. She stumbled forward, a hand still pressed against her mouth. Dozens of Axion impostors were now unmasked. Tw

o Gatherers. A Mosca in a rust-red jumpsuit and shielding. Even, in the corner struggling with Mali, Anya. Cora stopped in shock.

Anya had been an impostor the whole time?

The false Fian grabbed one of the live wires while Cassian was still doubled over. She pulled down the wire, then crouched down, ready to spring toward Cassian. The woman was going to knock him into the water, then electrify it with the wire. . . .

“Cassian, look out!”

He still didn’t hear her. Panic pulsing in her veins, Cora threw her hands out, aimed at the impostor.

Drop the wire, she commanded with her mind.

But her fingers didn’t crackle with the sparking sense of telekinesis. There was nothing. She threw her thoughts out harder, panicking. Still nothing. She tried once more.