Reckoners 01 - Steelheart

shoved Prof, throwing him backward. What seemed like a tiny bit of effort from Steelheart tossed Prof a good ten feet. He hit and grunted.
    The winds picked up, and Steelheart floated up to a standing position. Then he leaped, soaring into the air. He came down on one knee, slamming a fist into Prof’s face.
    Red blood splashed out around him.
    I screamed, scrambling to my feet and running for Prof. My ankle wasn’t working properly though, and I fell hard, hitting the ground. Through tears of pain, I saw Steelheart punch down again.
    Red. So much red.
    The High Epic stood up, shaking his bloodied hand. “You have a distinction, little Epic,” he said to the fallen Prof. “I believe you agitated me more than any before you.”
    I crawled forward, reaching Prof’s side. His skull was crushed in on the left, his eyes bulging out the front, staring sightlessly. Dead.
    “David!” Tia said in my ear. There was gunfire on her side of the line. Enforcement had found the copter.
    “Go,” I whispered.
    “But—”
    “Prof is dead,” I said. “I am too. Go.”
    Silence.
    From my pocket, I took the detonator pen. We were in the middle of the field. Cody had placed my blasting cap on the dump of explosives, and it was just beneath us. Well, I’d blow Steelheart into the sky, for what good it would do.
    Several Enforcement soldiers rushed up to Steelheart, reporting on the perimeter. I heard the copter thumping as it ascended to leave. I also heard Tia weeping on the line.
    I pulled myself up to a kneeling position beside Prof’s corpse.
    My father dying before me. Kneeling at his side. Go … run …
    At least this time I hadn’t been a coward. I raised the pen, fingering the button on the top. The blast would kill me, but it wouldn’t harm Steelheart. He’d survived explosions before. I might take a few soldiers with me, though. That was worth it.
    “No,” Steelheart said to his troops. “I’ll deal with him. This one is … special.”
    I looked over at him, blinking dazed eyes. He’d raised his arm to ward away the Enforcement officers.
    There was something strange in the distance behind him, over the stadium rim, above the luxury suites. I frowned. Light? But … that wasn’t the right direction. I wasn’t facing the city. Besides, the city had never produced a light that grand. Reds, oranges, yellows. The very sky seemed on fire.
    I blinked through the haze of smoke. Sunlight. Nightwielder was dead. The
sun
was rising.
    Steelheart spun about. Then he stumbled back, raising an arm against the light. His mouth opened in awe; then he shut it, grinding his teeth.
    He turned back on me, eyes wide with anger. “Nightwielder will be difficult to replace,” he growled.
    Kneeling in the middle of the field, I stared at the light. That beautiful glow, that powerful
something
beyond.
    There
are
things greater than the Epics
, I thought.
There is life, and love, and nature herself
.
    Steelheart strode toward me.
    Where there are villains, there will be heroes
. My father’s voice.
Just wait. They
will
come
.
    Steelheart raised a glowing hand.
    Sometimes, son, you have to help the heroes along.…
    And suddenly, I knew.
    An awareness opened my mind, like the burning radiance of the sun itself. I knew. I understood.
    Not looking down, I gathered up my father’s gun. I fiddled with it a moment, then raised it directly at Steelheart.
    Steelheart sniffed and stared it down. “Well?”
    My hand quivered, wavering, my arm trembling. The sun backlit Steelheart.
    “Idiot,” Steelheart said, and reached forward, grabbing my hand and crushing the bones. I barely felt the pain. The gun dropped to the ground with a clank. Steelheart held out a hand and the air spunaround on the ground, forming a little whirlwind underneath the gun that raised it into his fingers. He turned it on me.
    I looked up at him. A murderer outlined in brilliant light. Seen like that, he was just a shadow. Darkness. A nothingness before
real
power.
    The men in this world, Epics included, would pass from time. I might be a worm to him, but he was a worm himself in the grand scheme of the universe.
    His cheek bore a tiny sliver of a scar. The only imperfection on his body. A gift from a man who had believed in him. A gift from a better man than Steelheart would ever be, or ever understand.
    “I should have been more careful that day,” Steelheart said.
    “My father didn’t fear you,” I whispered.
    Steelheart stiffened, gun pointed to my