“Leave her alone!”
I tried to swing with the spear again—
The club sailed down, pinning it against the wall between the barbs, the shaft of the spear anchoring me against the wall. My eyes widened.
The orc lifted himself fully ahead of me now, face to face. Hot, acrid breath blew against me.
“Your journey has concluded, thief.”
He opened his hand, reaching for me, my face, to take me by the head—to crush it, exterminate me as I was trapped here—
“I said to get off of her!”
So very far over the orc’s shoulder, Carson gripped something in his hand. Balancing on two handholds underfoot, he held up a hand in a manner I was so familiar with, having done it so many times before—
And I realized now, suddenly: in his fracas with Borrick. One moment Borrick had worn a ring; the next it was gone.
That was Borrick’s talisman.
And Carson had it.
He swiped.
The wall between us ripped open.
Where my gateway looked like a more imprecise version of Heidi’s, Carson’s was something else. Dim at the edges, the hole it opened in the chamber wall looked torn. And it was gargantuan. It did not open from a tear, but instead ballooned in spasmodic, jerky moments, edges contorting as it grew. A burst of dull color erupted in it, forking in lazy stop-start jags, dimming—
And then it split apart.
My eyes bulged.
“What the—?!”
Instead of every gateway I had ever known, which dumped you into a kind of ethereal middle-ground filled with fireworks before spewing you out, this one had gone into full-on wormhole territory. There was no space between, no barrier. On one side was the temple—and on the other, visible as the great gateway only shuddered and kept growing, was a busy intersection. I didn’t know if it was London, New York, or snatched from another other city in our world. But it was there, with us, all lights and streaking traffic and horns and the belch of fumes.
The orcs caught sight of it.
The terror that took hold of them was absolute. They screamed, a cacophony of high-pitched wails that were completely unlike what you would ever think orcs were capable of. They released their handholds, their weapons—and although not drawn earthward by gravity, they swam for the floor.
Heidi gripped the cutlass tight, poised to strike, but frozen in shock.
The orcs swam past.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Borrick cried. “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
A taxi sailed by the tear, narrowly missing entering the gateway. Its horn blared as it passed, as though the driver were simply angry at another car rather than the sudden appearance of an inter-dimensional gate in his path. The sound was amplified to a near-deafening level—
The orcs scurried faster. Half of them were at the floor now, and they dragged themselves along by the handholds for the exit.
“Come back!” Borrick shrieked at their disappearing backs.
Another horn blared from the tear—and then it collapsed, like a sheet of paper wadded up, then simply blinked out of existence.
“Get back here!”
But it was too late. The army had dissipated almost entirely. Aside from Borrick himself, the only orc remaining was—
I gritted my teeth.
Scarface.
He’d been jostled down the wall by the flood of orcs making their way past. But his eyes were on me.
I got to meet them for just a second before the Order of Apdau arced back into view.
I raised the spear—
But Carson had me covered.
“And you can leave her alone, too!” he cried.
He gripped Borrick’s ring. Holding himself steady with his feet only, he released his handhold, swiping his hand—
Another gateway opened, on the opposite side now. Like the other, it was more like a tear—and instead of the dancing show of lights that should have been there, the other side faded through instead.
A windswept beach. And just out to sea—
“HURRICANE!”
A gale howled. The air was sucked out of the room—
And I was being pulled with it.
The Order of Apdau flailed. Closer to the tear than I was, they were drawn to it first. Their cloaks whipped. Arms jerked, and legs kicked, as though swimming against a tide intent on dragging them out—
The tear’s edges widened jerkily.
The vacuuming power of the hurricane roaring through the waters grew.
The Order of Apdau were whipped through the gap—
I was flying for it too—
Carson’s cry was almost lost to the sheer force of the gale. “Mira!”
I tumbled, yelling—
My only hope was—
I grabbed the spear, bringing it around, angling as best I could in the fraction of an instant I had before—
Then I was out. My legs hung in the air, horizontal. Water was coming at me, traveling almost sideways as I clung to Decidian’s Spear. It had lodged at the edge of Carson’s tear, an anchor, ends resting on either side of the chamber wall where the gateway’s shuddering edge had not yet reached. It, and my grip, was the only thing keeping me from being sucked out into oblivion.
Carson shouted from beyond the tear. Braced on the opposite wall, his manbag was dragged horizontally too.
I could not hear his words, but I could read them on his lips.
“I don’t know how long it’ll hold!”
This was it. All I had to do was drag myself back through.
I tensed.
A pull-up. That’s what this was. Just one pull-up.
I could do that, hurricane bearing down on me or not.
Teeth gritted, I bent my forearms. The gateway came closer and closer, inch by inch, as wind howled in my ear … as my jeans whipped around my ankles …
Just as my face was an inch away, Decidian’s Spear shifted. I gasped, bracing—
The tear had shuddered again. But it held.
Come on! I could do this. I could do this!
I pulled, with every fiber of my being, every muscle, every last bit of energy I had left. I called on the last surges of adrenaline that had kept me going on this manic forty-eight-hour journey, willing them to just give me the strength to pull—myself—through!
I was back on the other side. Somehow, the wind was worse here; the chamber amplified the deafening uproar as air was whipped about, sucked out around us.
I scrabbled up the spear, using it almost as a plank, positioning my body over the top and fighting to balance against the roar, one hand on the nearest handhold—
Then it shifted as the tear’s edge shuddered again. Inward, this time.
I panicked, jolting as the spear’s tip was pressed close to the tear’s edge, almost close enough to go in and send me down with it—
Then, with a last violent roaring spasm, the tear collapsed.
My ears rung.
I gripped the wall’s handholds, eyes closed. Desperate gasps for breath filled my chest over and over.
Then, through the ringing noise: “Mira!”
I spun just in time to see two things: first, Alain Borrick was making his way up the handholds on the wall between me and Carson, jaw set and determined eyes on the central platform up by the ceiling. Second—and way more important—the scarred orc was bearing down on me, sailing through the air in a great leap, bony club raised overhead.
I threw myself sideways with a yelp. The club slammed down behind me, smashing my handhold—
“You cut off my fingers, spineless thief!” he roared, swinging for me again. I swam backward to dodge; the club sailed between my legs.
“Actually, that was me!” Heidi called. She was leaping from the ground, handhold to handhold, after Borrick.
And she was never going to make it in time.
“The Chalice!” Carson cried.
“I know, thanks!”
I flung myself back from Scarface, bri
nging the spear up to meet him. He batted it out of the way, and in the antigravity field I was sent spinning.
My foot found a handhold as I stuck it out. I lurched to a sickening stop—
“Shame!” the orc roared. The club sailed for my head—I yelped, ducked—it crashed into the wall, sending fragments of stone into the air, spraying the back of my head—
“Borrick’s going for the Chalice!” Carson yelled.
“So do something!” Heidi cried.
“I’m—I’m stuck!” Carson cried back. He was tugging at his manbag frantically where he’d looped it around an adjacent handhold. Try as he might, it would not come loose.
“It is mine!” Borrick shouted back. His cry was desperate, the yell of a man who was making his last ditch attempt—but there was a touch of victory in it too. Because Carson was frozen, Heidi was far too low to ever catch up—and in just a couple of seconds, I would be no more.
Borrick couldn’t take it. Not after all this.
I had just one shot at this.
Scarface swung his club again, and I dodged, pirouetting in the air. A barb sailed so close to my face I felt the kiss of air as it soared past, a mere half-inch from tearing me open.
“Pathetic creature,” he growled, drawing back for another swing—
NOW!
I drew myself into a crouch on the wall, as low as I could go, pointing at the central platform—and sprung.
I sailed through the zero-gravity, the platform’s underside coming closer—the Chalice Gloria coming closer!—I prepared to land, legs ready to jet out and stop me before I sailed right over …
But I had misjudged. I realized, almost too late, that I was going to be too low.
I thrust out my free hand, grabbing for the edge.
I caught it—
Borrick, almost even keel with me on his wall, flashed me a manic look of victory. “Sorry. End of the line, Mira Brand.”
I twisted behind me, following his look.
Scarface sailed through the air, an unstoppable mass. Face contorted with rage, his club was raised overhead.
No time to dodge.
“FOR HON—”
There was no more. Just moments before he careened into me, the orc was thrown back like a cricket ball slammed by a bat. The word turned to a wail of pain and surprise—and then he crashed into the floor far below us.
I stared, wide-eyed. What the …?
Carson’s cry broke me from my wonder. “Mira, he’s on you!”
I twisted.
Borrick braced his feet against the wall, ready to leap. He took aim—
I dragged myself up as he leapt. His arms were extended, and he flew—
Time seemed to slow, and we drifted through the next moment like the pull of time had gone just as powerless as the gravity in the chamber when I’d smashed the flask. The surface against my hands was slick, the sweat of my palms working to dissolve the traction as I pulled myself up again. My stomach complained as I bumped it against the edge while I tugged up.
This was it; Borrick was feet away.
But so was I.
The Chalice Gloria glittered in its resting place, resplendent and bejeweled, light shining down on it from above as rubies and emeralds glittered like Christmas decorations in the gilded handles and surface.
It was right there.
Everything I needed to prove myself to my parents. To my brother.
A second away, and I was on the edge, out of breath, a hundred little pains rolling over me.
And none of that mattered.
I rolled for the platform’s middle, where the Chalice Gloria stood, resplendent and bejeweled—and grabbed it, finally—FINALLY—taking glory in my own two hands.
32
Borrick landed awkwardly, like he’d missed a step, face twisting in agony. He’d seen me take it, and the twist of emotion that ran across his handsome features in that moment would have scared a less jaded person.
I was getting pretty jaded by now, though.
I spun, arranging the Chalice behind me, jabbing Decidian’s Spear toward his neck with my other hand. It had a clear line right to the jugular, and he eyed it warily. “Don’t even think about trying something,” I growled.
He looked like he might. But then Heidi joined us, landing nimbly behind him. “That goes from me too.” She extended Feruiduin’s Cutlass. One step backward, and he’d go all Nathan in Ex Machina, blade sinking into his back.
He looked across me, down Decidian’s Spear, and then to the Chalice Gloria in my other hand.
Gaze stuck there, he stood frozen and let out a low grunt. It didn’t sound like a concession.
“To the victor go the spoils,” I said.
“That was supposed to be my Chalice,” he said.
“Oh, shut up,” said Heidi.
“All my work … all these years … a whole army—and it’s bested by a China doll and a dumb, helpless American.”
“He’s not dumb,” I retorted, voice hard. “And he’s not helpless either. He dismantled pretty much your entire army single-handedly.”
“Not to mention our cloaked friends,” Heidi added.
I gave Carson an over-the-shoulder look that was … downright affectionate.
He returned it—then swayed. “Uh, hey, I think the gravity’s coming back!” he called.
Heidi nodded. “I’m definitely feeling the pull a little bit.”
“Just ride it down,” I said. “It’ll be like that scene in Willy Wonka, with the fizzy lifting drinks.” To Carson: “Your bag still stuck? Need me to come over?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Looking somewhat terrified, he released his hold on the wall. Sure enough, he slowly began to descend.
“Come on,” I said to Borrick, prodding at him with the spear. “Down we go.”
Bracketed by me on one side and Heidi on the other, Borrick begrudgingly stepped off the platform. Slowly, the three of us slid down to earth, weapons pointed at him all the way.
“I came so close,” Borrick said, more ashen and regretful than angry. “So close. And you had to go and rip it all away from me.” On this last part, anger came out. “Do you have any idea—this was supposed to be my chance! My chance to … to show my family … show my father … what I can do.”
“Cry me a river,” Heidi told him.
“My whole army … just gone.” Borrick was still rambling. And now, suddenly, he snapped around to me. “You’ve ruined everything.”
I was sure for a second he was going to come for me, weapons be damned, and try to throttle me the way he had Carson. I hefted the spear, ready. But he didn’t move, at least not my way. Only his face shifted, contorted in hate. Hate for me.
For just a moment, his words from before came back to me.
We’re just two sides of the same coin, searching for the same prize.
Not just that—we were doing it for the same reasons.
Then my feet touched the chamber floor.
Borrick stamped for Carson, who’d landed with approximately the same lack of grace as I had expected.
“You stole my talisman—”
Heidi stopped him with Feruiduin’s Cutlass.
“Not one more step toward the geek,” she said.
Carson puffed himself up. I had the feeling that even if Heidi had not stepped in, he still would have done so.
“So what if I stole your stupid ring? You took the spear and cutlass. At least I actually got my hands dirty when I took it.”
Borrick gritted his teeth. He looked about ready to burst into flame.
“Give it back,” he growled.
“No.”
Borrick’s face darkened. Definitely, definitely about to burst into flames—
Then he sagged.
When he spoke again, his voice was piteous.
“How am I supposed to get home?”
“I’ll find you an exit,” I answered. “Carson, compass?”
He threw it to me.
We walke
d back to the tunnel, Borrick slumped ahead of us. He was muttering, but I couldn’t make out the words. Probably for the best. If he mentioned his family again, in that same quavering tone, I might just feel sorry for him.
I stopped when the compass showed a snow-capped peak. Skies were blue, a chilled sun glowing just above the horizon, sending sparkles across the ice.
“Here,” I said, stopping. “A nice little mountain for you.”
Borrick’s eyes flashed with panic. “But—you can’t just strand me—”
“I’m not.” I showed him the compass, held just out of arm’s reach in case he decided to snatch it. “See? A cabin. Knock on the door, and see if you can orient yourself from there.”
I clutched my talisman, and cut open a gateway. The normal kind, with shimmering edges, and dancing colors illuminating the weightless in-between space.
When it was wide enough, I nodded toward it, eyes on Borrick. “On your way, now.”
He pressed his lips into a line, eyes burning in barely held fury. “This isn’t over, Brand.”
But even so, he stepped through after a moment and was gone.
33
To the victor goes the … burrito?
Well, at least it wasn’t spoiled.
I made my way into Tortilla, taking a well-justified break from my new compatriots. I hadn’t been around people for this long since before I’d run away, and while I was strangely pleased to find myself in the constant company of Heidi and Carson—well, now anyways—there was something of a wearing effect.
To wit: I felt tired, mentally, in a way I didn’t normally feel.
Of course, that could just be the lack of calories. Hence, the burrito.
You can almost picture it—big wooden sign with white letters under a series of red awnings. Store front with windows that look straight in off the Strand. Tables scattered on the main floor, a serving counter where you get your food, and a staircase in the back that leads up to the second story.
The tables on the main floor were half-filled, this being an off hour, and the long bar that lined the lefthand wall was dotted with people. I wasn’t in the mood for people, so I took my chance and took the staircase up.
The second floor was near empty, a couple talking in hushed voices overlooking the windows and the street. They stopped talking when they saw me, and piled all their rubbish on their trays and left in a rush. That didn’t bother me, and I replaced them at one of the circular tables that gave a choice view of the foot traffic passing below.
The World Beneath (The Mira Brand Adventures Book 1) Page 20
