It was difficult to say which portion of the Roma army had the harder task, Neel’s or Tomik’s. Tomik’s force was small, and would have to come down a tricky slope that could break their horses’ legs. Once they reached the valley, they would make hard for the Gray Men, and try not to be taken down along the way.

Neel’s force would bear the brunt of the battle. It would divert the attention of Rodolfo’s army and clear a path for Tomik and his Marvel. Astrophil had read enough on warfare to know that the logic of this plan was sound, but he had also read enough to know that both parts of the Roma army could expect heavy losses.

Treb shouted something incoherent, and Astrophil startled. “Oh, yes,” said the spider. “A battle cry.” He sucked in his breath and screamed as loud as he could.

Treb winced. “Not in my ear, Astro.”

The cavalry charged down the slope.

* * *

FROM THE OTHER SIDE of the valley, Tomik watched the rest of the Roma army spill toward Rodolfo’s forces.

“Just wait,” said Shandor, keeping his horse still alongside Tomik’s.

Tomik touched the Marvel where it bulged inside his breast pocket, then wiped sweaty hands against his legs. “I told you. I told Neel. I can’t ride. Somebody else should throw the Marvel, somebody who could actually make it down this slope. I should be with Neel, or Zora, or Lucas.”

“Would this ‘somebody’ of yours have a magical gift for glass, too, so that his aim might be better than anybody else’s?” asked Shandor. “Would this ‘somebody’ be able to touch the Marvel’s glass and spin it into the air with a special sort of energy that will fling it farther than anyone else could manage? Because I haven’t met that ‘somebody,’ unless he is you.”

Tomik bit his lip. “All right,” he said softly.

“These are my horses. They’re good horses, and they’re trained to follow each other. The hardest thing about going down this slope will be picking out the right path. You follow me, and you’ll be fine.”

* * *

ZORA THREW OPEN the Tank’s hatch, grabbed her brother’s arms, and hauled him inside. He slumped against her, and it took her a frantic moment to realize that his blood was streaming down her. “Lucas!” He had an arrow sticking out of his shoulder, and another in his thigh.

She lowered him gently to the metal floor, slammed the hatch shut, and punched her fist against a button. The Tank slipped below the river’s surface. She kneeled by her brother’s side.

“It’s not so bad,” Lucas said weakly. His blond hair was dark with river water and plastered against his face. “These aren’t the kinds of wounds you die from.”

“Unless you bleed to death!”

“Very comforting, Zora. You are a terrible nurse.”

That made her laugh a little—until Lucas told her what she would have to do. “Get one of those dresses and tear it up. You’ll have to pull out the arrows and bind me.”

Zora went pale, but fetched a dress and shredded it. She gritted her teeth and tugged the arrow from Lucas’s shoulder.

He screamed.

“Lucas! Are you all right?”

He screwed his eyes shut and gasped. “I know all brothers say this to their sisters,” he finally said in a halting voice, “but you are a pain.”

They both laughed, slightly hysterical, and the second arrow came out more easily.

When Lucas’s wounds were bound as tightly as possible, he said, “Tell me what’s going on out there.”

Zora looked through the tube. She saw the Roma cavalry narrowing the gap between them and Rodolfo’s forces. There was her aunt, and Neel, and Treb in the front line. Zora swung the tube back toward Rodolfo’s army, and saw a man who could only be the general, sitting on his horse, shouting commands at his soldiers. Then the general went still, staring at the front line of the Roma cavalry. Zora stared as well, and realized how utterly recognizable Iris was—an old, pale woman streaming white hair, standing out like a flag against the dark Roma army. Zora realized, too, what a public figure her aunt was, and how everybody knew her—and to stay away from her, because of her acid skin that could melt stone floors.

“Oh, no,” Zora said.

* * *

“JUST GET ME CLOSE ENOUGH,” Iris shouted. The reins in her hands and the saddle beneath her were smoking. “I’ll get down off this horse and show Rodolfo who’s in charge! I’ll rain acid destruction down on him! I’ll—”

Rodolfo’s general notched an arrow, and shot it straight through Iris’s heart.

* * *

TREB YANKED ON THE REINS, hauling his horse out of the way as Iris’s careened. Her body slumped, toppled to the ground, and was lost in a maze of stampeding horses.

“Iris!” Astrophil shouted. He tugged on Treb’s earlobe. “We must help her!”

“She’s gone,” said the general. Gripping the reins with one hand, he pulled out a curved sword with his other. The front line of the Roma army was about to crash into Rodolfo’s.

“No, Treb, listen to me—” Astrophil stopped when he heard the man suck in his breath. Astrophil followed Treb’s gaze to the wagons behind Rodolfo’s infantry. They were being unpacked. In fact, several of them had already been unloaded, and it was only now that Astrophil could see what had been inside.

“Cannons,” Treb whispered. One was aimed directly at him. “Jump, Astro! Jump now!”

The cannon boomed, and a black ball sped toward them. Astrophil froze. Then the ball slammed into Treb’s horse and Astrophil was flung into the air. He spiraled, tumbling, his legs waving in every direction. He shot silvery webs randomly, hoping one of them would cling to something solid. They didn’t. He wheeled, and fell to the ground.

Astrophil jumped to his feet. “Treb!” he shouted, but then saw the ruins of the man and his horse. Astrophil ducked away from a blur of galloping hooves, and tumbled. He shot a web to a horse’s saddle, and was climbing up its side when the Roma army finally clashed with Rodolfo’s. The force of Astrophil’s horse ramming into another one sent him flying again to the ground.

He stood and looked around, then up.

A soldier’s boot came crushing down on him.

47

The Marvel

NEEL TORE HIS EYES from Iris’s falling body just in time to see the cannonball sailing through the sky. “Veer left!” he shouted at the cavalry and spurred his horse out of the cannonball’s path.

Treb and his horse exploded. Something silvery shot through the air like a tiny comet.

Neel’s heart clenched. “Astro,” he whispered. He galloped toward where he thought Astrophil had fallen, and plunged into the thick of Rodolfo’s army. A sword slashed at him. Neel’s ghost fingers shot out, wrapped around the blade, jerked it out of the man’s hands, and threw it down. Though Neel wasn’t an expert swordsman, he was good at cheating. With one ghostly hand around the man’s neck, holding him still on his bucking horse, Neel used his other hand to stab his sword into the man’s side. The soldier fell to the ground.

“Astrophil!” he shouted, then spotted the spider climbing up a horse’s flank. Astrophil fell again. Neel was chopping a path through Rodolfo’s army to reach the spider when another cannonball sailed overhead and slammed into the Roma infantry.

Neel wheeled his horse and snared the arm of the nearest Roma. It was Shaida. “Here.” He took a fireball Marvel from his pocket and shoved it at her. “Destroy those cannons. Tell anyone who’s got a Marvel to use them, and use them now. Aim for the wagons. Aim for the cannons.”

“What are you going to do?” she yelled, but he rode ahead, scanning the ground for a bright bit of tin.

A fireball Marvel arced through the air and hit the wagons. The explosion shook the ground, and several horses fell. The black mare scrambled under Neel, but found her feet. Neel steadied her, and in the glare of the fire he saw something shiny and crumpled lying on the ground near a fallen soldier wearing Rodolfo’s livery. Neel sheathed his sword to free both hands. His ghost fingers unfurled in front of him, and with one hand he batted aside a charging foot soldier, then shoved back an enemy’s horse as it stomped toward where Astrophil lay. Neel’s other ghostly hand swept down then, scooped up the spider, and brought him close.

More Marvels flew into the air. The segment of Rodolfo’s army that had been infantry, wagons, and cannons turned into a blazing hole.

Even though this was the most dangerous time to look down at the palm of his hand, Neel did. Astrophil was twitching. One of his legs was crushed, and two were simply gone. He bled brassica oil.

“Astro!” Neel shouted. “Astro, please answer me!”

Faintly, the spider said, “I appear to be missing a few legs.”

“You’ll be all right,” Neel told him, because he refused to believe anything else.

* * *

“GOOD!” SHANDOR SAID, watching the battle below.

“Good?” said Tomik. “How can that be good?” He couldn’t see any details from so far away and didn’t know enough about war to judge what was taking place before him. He saw a bewildering, disastrous mess.

“Didn’t you notice what your Marvels did? The Roma are eating up the front lines, and Rodolfo’s artillery has been destroyed. We’re in as good shape as we’ll ever be. Time to go.”

Tomik closed his eyes. “Straight for the Gray Men?”

“That’s right. Rodolfo’s army has turned to face Neel’s, so we can come at the Gray Men from the side. Ready?”

No, Tomik thought. “Yes,” he said.

The force of about a thousand horses started down the steep slope.

“Stay right behind me,” Shandor said, and Tomik did just that, his stomach plunging every time his horse slipped. Behind him, he heard a yell of fear, and a horse came tumbling down. Its legs buckled beneath it, and the rider spun over its shoulders. The woman’s neck broke.

“Right behind me,” Shandor said again.

Tomik followed.

His nerves were frayed and his legs were shaking by the time the horses reached more even ground. I’ll be no good when it really matters, Tomik thought. He could barely see straight through his fear. But Shandor kicked his horse into a gallop, and Tomik’s horse followed. The cavalry was streaming around him now, heading straight for the knot of gray. The Roma drew closer, and Tomik had just enough time to spot a cage and narrow his eyes at it when a monster lifted its head and stared at the Roma cavalry. It opened its mouth in a toothless grin. It broke from the pack and ran toward them.

“Shandor!” Tomik shouted, but the creature had already leaped through the air to wrap its arms around the Roma. Shandor kept his seat, but the Gray Man clawed at his face, ripping away skin.

“Now, Tom!” the man yelled. “Do it now!”

Tomik pulled the smoky Marvel with the Gristleki cure from his pocket. He cocked his arm back and prepared to throw.

* * *

“LOSING? We are not losing,” Petra heard Rodolfo shout at his general. “Where is the rest of my army?”

“They went south, to cross the Dalo Bridge. They’ll be here to reinforce us, but it will take time—”

“Time?” Rodolfo slapped the soldier with his metal glove. The man reeled, his face distorted. His jaw had been broken. Several Gristleki glanced at Rodolfo as he listened to the general groan. The monsters’ hollow faces were eager.

“Isss he oursss?” one of the monsters asked. “Can we have him? Pleassse?”

“Oh, fine,” said Rodolfo, and a cluster of Gristleki fell on the man and dragged him down.

Petra saw yet another fireball Marvel sail through the air and smash into the infantry. The earth shook with the explosion.

“You!” Rodolfo had turned his horse toward Petra’s cage. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. This was supposed to be easy!” He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the cage. Then he climbed off his horse and through the cage door to grab Petra by the neck. He dragged her out and threw her to the ground.

“Isss she oursss?” a Gray Man asked.

Rodolfo jumped back on his horse and grinned. “Ye—” he started to say, when an invisible force grabbed the reins of his horse and hauled him away from Petra. She looked up from the dirt. Beyond the twisting bodies of the Gristleki surrounding her, she could see Neel, a hand stretched out in front of him, his ghostly fingers dragging Rodolfo and his horse toward him.

A Gray Man hissed, “I think that was a yesss. Did our massster not sssay yesss?”

“Yesss,” the Gristleki answered, and closed around Petra.

She could see nothing now but gray skin and leering faces. Her heart shuddering, Petra searched for the silver eyes of her father. Then a thought struck her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see him, not like this. She didn’t want her last memory to be this.

She heard a howl—not of pleasure, but pain. Her eyes flew open, and saw a sword slicing through the neck of a Gray Man. The head rolled onto the earth, spitting black blood. The headless body crumpled, and in the space it left stood John Dee.

He sliced the throat of another Gristleki, reached into the circle of monsters to grab Petra’s arm, and dragged her to him. “Come with me,” he said. “There’s a Loophole right behind me. Come!”

But Petra had frozen, astonished that he was here, that he would do this, and that she wanted, suddenly, to embrace him.

A Gristleki leaped at them, and Dee raised his sword.

“No!” she shouted. “Don’t kill them! One of them could be my father! They’re people!”