“Because the city has fallen,” Commander Ironfist said grimly. He walked over to the spotter, who moved aside for him.

“What?!” Hezik shouted to a Blackguard reporting to him. Not asking about the city.

“We didn’t see it before. It was at the bottom of the pile.” The Blackguard turned one of the shells over. The side was stove in, spilling all its powder out, and making it as effective in flight as a one-winged bird.

“Commander,” Hezik said. “We’ve only got two shots left. One shell, and one ball. Which do you want us to load?”

They’d been shooting the shells, and Hezik had honed his accuracy through practice. He was now hitting within forty paces of where he aimed, and he had done much better than that twice. But Gavin and the others were almost to the top of the tower. An exploding shell, that close? It would kill all of them.

On the other hand, the balls weighed more and flew differently. They’d shot a few of those earlier to get range before they started shooting the shells into the wights, but they hadn’t had as much practice.

Commander Ironfist said, “Use the ball.”

Hezik hesitated. “Sir, I’m only accurate within maybe twenty paces with the ball. It’s not a matter of skill at this distance, sir. We’d have to get very lucky.”

Teia had seen him shoot. He was being wildly optimistic.

Commander Ironfist’s face didn’t shift. “I trust you. Use the ball. Kill that god.”

By the time Kip reached the top of the tower, wheezing and so exhausted he thought he was going to vomit, the others were already fighting. The top of the green spire was something between a tower and a tree. Twelve smaller towers ringed it, like merlons on a crenellated wall. From each of those merlons, a giant was emerging. Four of them were already out, fighting Gavin, Karris, and the last Blackguard, Baya Niel.

The others were waking. Kip felt a shiver in the merlon next to him. The giants within the merlons were still men, but men who’d descended so deep into green that they’d rebuilt themselves, and the blasting green light from Ru seemed to be helping. Even as Kip looked, he saw green skin covered with tiny scales shimmer over the giant’s naked muscle on his arms. His chest was thickening, legs elongating.

In a paroxysm of revulsion, Kip stabbed his dagger into the creature. The dagger punched through the cocoon like it was wet paper. The giant’s green, green eyes shot open, its mouth opened on the other side of the glass, and then it slumped and its eyes dimmed.

Six of the giants were now out, fighting Gavin and Karris. One died as Kip watched, its head wrapped in flames by Gavin and then taken off by Baya Niel. But the others were still emerging. It seemed that those who were full in the green light from Ru had already awakened, but those who were shaded from it by their merlons were slower.

For one second, Kip considered joining the fight in the middle. Gavin and Karris were doing their best to get to the middle of the tower, where the green light was focused and reflecting so brightly it hurt Kip’s eyes. The other giants were blocking Gavin and Karris from getting there. Gavin and Karris had their hands full. Kip would barely be a help to them—but he could keep them from facing even worse odds.

So he ran around the edge of the tower instead, circling to the great cocoons. He rammed his dagger into another giant’s chest. As before, its eyes opened, bulged, dimmed. Kip ran on. He stabbed a third. This one punched its fist through the cocoon and groped for Kip, but Kip pulled the dagger out and ducked. The giant crumpled, tearing through the cocoon and falling on the ground in a splash of goo.

The next three cocoons were already empty, and as Kip ran toward the next, his eyes lifted to the fort on Ruic Head, where he saw a flash of light and a gout of smoke. One thousand one. One thousand two…

Kip didn’t have time to worry about it. As he ran toward one of the awakening giants, another came from the side to intercept him. More than eight feet tall, this one had drafted a sword for his right arm. Green luxin shouldn’t hold an edge, but either different rules applied to the giants or it wouldn’t matter because getting hit with all the force in the giant’s massive arm would tear Kip to pieces regardless, edge or no edge.

Fumbling with his lenses at his hip, Kip put the red spectacles on his face, intending to wreathe the big bastard in flames—but he’d put the wrong glasses on his face. Orange splattered harmlessly across the giant’s chest and it drew back its huge sword arm and roared, charging at full speed.

Kip threw orange at the ground and leapt hard to the side. He felt something whistle past his ear. The giant stomped right next to him, his foot splattering in the slick orange luxin as he tried to change direction. His nonsword arm wheeled crazily and, slipping, he shot right off the edge of the tower.

Kip watched him spin into space with grim satisfaction. Fat kids know how hard it is to stop once you get up to a sprint.

The nearest merlon was empty.

Without warning, the empty merlon exploded in scraps and shrapnel of green luxin that hit the side of Kip’s face and his left arm like a swarm of hornets as the cannonball struck it.

One thousand six, I guess.

Still standing, stunned, bewildered, and bleeding, Kip heard the delayed, distant roar of the cannon. Those bastards up there really were trying to kill them. If he had been two steps closer, he’d be dead.

But there was no time. Gavin was bleeding from a slash down his chest, and Karris was literally smoking as if she’d recently been on fire. Baya Niel’s nose was streaming blood. Several giants were dead on the ground behind them, and the light at the center of the tower was dimming, revealing a figure. That should be a good thing. Kip didn’t think it was. He ran to the next merlon, stabbed the fully formed giant there, and ran on to the last one.

This giant was awake, pulling herself out of the merlon, getting her bearings.

Kip leapt at her, slashing.

The giantess brought up her forearm and blocked the slash, her arm catching Kip’s forearm. Kip’s momentum carried him forward into his own hands, his doubled fists smacking into his face.

He dropped at her feet, stunned, blood pouring into his eyes. He saw death in the giantess’s twisted visage.

“A miss!” the spotter cried. “Fifteen paces long, twenty paces left. Tore off a tower on the southeast. Nearly killed Breaker.”

Curses went up, but there were no recriminations. Everyone knew that merely hitting the top of the tower from five thousand paces was an incredible feat. There was skill, and there was art, and there was simple luck. They were operating at the uttermost of the first two. The last couldn’t be counted on.

But the crews didn’t slow. Men were already swabbing out the culverin. The powder was already measured.

“We’re certain that there’s no more shot?” Commander Ironfist asked.

“Triple-checked, sir,” Hezik said. “Just the one explosive shell. If by some miracle I hit the tower, it’ll kill all our people, too.”

Commander Ironfist’s face was grim. A second passed. Everyone looked at him.

“Load it.”

A cannonball right about now would be nice, Kip thought, looking up at Death.

But there was no shot. No rescue. Even if they fired a ball right now, it would be six seconds before it saved Kip—and in six seconds, he’d be dead.