Free Shade's Children by Garth Nix

currents dragged at him, trying to take him down to deeper tunnels. But he held on to the walkway.
    Ninde threw herself forward, and the falling mesh took her around the feet, its strands melting together instantly to form a solid mass of sticky plastic.
    She rolled onto her back and tried to draw her sword to cut the catch rope that would drag her up…up to the higher crosswalk she’d forgotten about.
    Gold-Eye looked up too, trying to locate the enemy as he dragged himself hand over hand along the walkway. Myrmidon battle sound boomed everywhere, echoing, multiplying, and confusing him. A harsh, discordant mixture of shouts and growls, of deep and terrifying noise.
    Then he saw them—a full maniple, stretched out along the crosswalk above him like shooters on a range. The three net throwers were already winding in—and Gold-Eye realized that one of them was winding in Ninde.
    The other four Myrmidons carried broad-bladed axes. All seven wore black, banded armor, unadorned save for the fluttering squares of black metalcloth on their mighty shoulders, declaring that they belonged to the Overlord known simply as Black Banner.
    “Help!” screamed Ninde as the catch rope went taut. Effortlessly the Myrmidon at the other end began to pull her up, while the other net throwers reloaded their tubes to have another shot at Gold-Eye.
    “Gold-Eye!” screamed Ninde again. She had her sword out but couldn’t flip up enough to get a good swing above her rapidly ascending ankles.
    “Gold-Eye!”
    Gold-Eye looked at the other net throwers. They would be reloaded in a few moments…but Ninde…the Meat Factory…
    With a shout, he flung himself onto the walkway and rushed toward Ninde, the narrowness of the way forgotten, sword in his hand…and then he was jumping up, hacking at the rope, screaming at the Myrmidons….
    Ninde was screaming too, the Myrmidons boomed louder…and still the rope wouldn’t cut….
    Then another sword whistled over his, cutting through the catch rope with a crack! that seemed to stop all other noise…and Ella was there, and Drum, picking up Ninde like a small kitten under his arm…and…
    “Run like hell!” shouted Ella, her sword blade glittering gold in the witchlight from above. “That way!”

ARCHIVE—SELF-EXAMINATION SESSION #256,328,974
    If I were merely a computer, I could not think as a man. If I were still only a man, I could not exist. But I am only an electronic reality—or am I? No physicality. No glands. No hormones. No sudden pleasure from the sun warming my face…or a woman smiling for me alone…
    But these memories are part of me. Is this the same? Does the memory of stimulus act in the artificial persona as a real stimulus?
    I have sent many children to their deaths.
    When I was a man as other men…inhabiting a body…I could not have done so. But I did not live then in the times I do now. War changes the breathing man. How could it not change me?
    Have I lost compassion? Or is there no use for it in these times?
    I cannot feel pain as the children do. And the memory of pain is not the sharp, senses-blotting focus….
    But that is not important. There is only one goal. The Overlords must be defeated and the world returned to normality. My normality. The wind cool and fresh, stinging eyes; the shock of the surf on skin; a soft kiss, lips just touching soft skin below the ear, her long hair held back…
    Irrelevance. Whatever the cost, we will regain humanity’s kingdom. Children’s lives…a soul tarnished beyond redemption, washed in blood…this is not too high a cost.
    Any means must be employed. Victory is the only permissible end.
     

    

CHAPTER NINE

    They didn’t stop running until they were a hundred yards down South Drain Twelve. Ella had picked it unerringly, despite their mad, splashing rush almost halfway around the entire Main Junction, pursued by the shouts of the Myrmidons on the crosswalk and the soft popping