The Tide of Ages (The Mira Brand Adventures Book 2)

by Robert J. Crane

  “I know!”

  She twisted, bracelet in one hand, whipping out Feruiduin’s Cutlass with the other and extending it to full length—

  “Don’t break the rope,” Carson prayed.

  “It won’t break! It’s elvish—”

  The note from the organ changed, got lower. It descended, like a hand being slowly withdrawn from a theremin—and then, when it was low enough that I was certain my bones would be rattled into dust, and the windows and doors were sealed off, a pulse of light erupted. Like a supernova remnant, it expanded, blue light rushing toward us—

  It hit us—

  My lungs contorted, everything in my chest with it. I choked, and bubbles spilled out of my mouth, rising to the ceiling—

  Heidi was panicked. “The spell! That just—”

  Undid it, I thought.

  Our hour had been ended, early—and inside a room full of water that had just sealed off around us.

  28

  I was choking. My lungs shrieked, half from the tumultuous reshuffling they had just done as our spells were nullified, and half—a section that was rapidly growing by the second—from the sudden lack of oxygen.

  I just needed to breathe, to suck in a great gasp of air—

  No air. Not here.

  Fighting not to explode, I twisted, looking up, trying desperately to find some out.

  An air pocket!

  Heidi caught my thought. She turned, following it.

  The ceiling was clear of water. And getting clearer! As the portals drained this sealed room of water, air came flooding back through the void from the other side, beautiful oxygen. It was just out of reach—but as the water flowed away, it was coming closer and closer …

  The fire intensified in my chest. I was past the need of gasping now. The only thing keeping me from just flooding my lungs with useless, deathly fluid was knowing that if I did, all this would be for naught, that our stories would end here, in this tomb—

  “Swim for it!” came Carson. And other thoughts, too, from both him and Heidi. But they were a jumble; it was next to impossible to keep hold of my own head, let alone track what was coming from outside of it—inside, even—

  Swim. Just swim straight up.

  But the openings were fierce, fighting to drag us toward them even here as the elvish rope held us in place. The sheer power was too much for the marachti to face, so how we were supposed to manage? Not to mention the fact that my body was burning from lack of oxygen.

  Close it, I thought. Just close the gateway—

  But there were other marachti still here, fighting. If we closed them, they’d be on us.

  We wouldn’t reach the surface either way.

  So all we could do was wait, watch, as it descended, and as the fires inside of us grew higher and higher—

  I closed my eyes. Gritted my teeth. Clenched my eyes tight.

  Need—air—!!

  Then Heidi’s voice cut through: “Just—one more—second—”

  I fought every instinct, right to the precipice, so desperate to just—

  INHALE.

  The water lowered past my head, and suddenly I was in the air—and the air was in me as I sucked, great long gasps of it. Heidi was gasping too, her breaths quick and ragged.

  Oxygen. I had never been so thankful in my life for blessed, beautiful oxygen.

  “Let’s never do that again,” Heidi wheezed. She sounded in pain. Had to be; I knew I was.

  “Gladly,” I said, hacking up a great, wet, wheezing breath. She hadn’t been kidding about the discomfort of this spell wearing off.

  The water drained, and we descended with it. This low down, it became a complicated whirlpool eddying over our portals, the funnel never centering on one or the other.

  Our feet touched the ground.

  “I don’t want to ruin this moment,” Heidi said, “but you realize we still have company, right?”

  I glanced behind us. Four marachti left: two to one. Three clutched pillars while another held an anchored bench to keep from being dragged into the abyss to follow their comrades.

  I could open another below them, end this now—

  But quickly it was low enough for them to stand too, not to fight, and the dragging force sapped practically to nothing as it gurgled, this last eighteen inches of water rapidly draining …

  The marachti steadied themselves. Then they moved for us. The nearest reached into its belt and drew free a dagger. Curved at the tip, it glinted under the cathedral’s magic bubble lights.

  “Weapons out,” I warned Heidi, unspooling myself from the elvish rope.

  “Already on it.”

  “Be careful,” Carson warned.

  “Always,” said Heidi.

  “Might be wise to get out of our heads,” I told Carson. “We can speak now. And we need to focus.”

  “Don’t want the American’s fear for your safety, his cringes and possibly whines of fear, messing up your battle. Got it. Don’t, uh, pee yourself again, Heidi.”

  She tensed. “Top notch advice, there, Yates. Thanks.”

  He must’ve removed the ring, because the invisible connection vanished, like something had been plucked out of my brain.

  The portals belched—and save a thin coating on the floor, benches, and the organ-like thing on the pulpit, the water was gone.

  Heidi fell in beside me. Extending Feruiduin’s Cutlass, she braced as we moved into the center aisle.

  I shook loose the umbrella. It lengthened into Decidian’s Spear, tip glinting.

  The marachti crept around us. Keeping a wide berth, daggers loosed, they were—

  “Surrounding us,” Heidi murmured.

  “We do this back to back then,” I said, turning. “Two each.”

  “Easiest fight we’ll have had all day.”

  “Strike to disable,” I muttered.

  “Why? They won’t.”

  Heidi was right about that. The two I faced, one to each side of my vision, bared their teeth. Yellow, slitted eyes bored down on me, angry and determined. And those daggers … I prayed I’d never know what one of those plunging into me felt like.

  But I answered, “Because we have actual honor. Not the phony kind like Borrick.”

  One of the marachti bit off something in its weird fish-reptile language, something that didn’t sound too happy.

  Heidi snapped back a cluster of swear words.

  It was quiet in the cathedral …

  Heidi tensed—

  Then the marachti lunged.

  I swung Decidian’s Spear to block one blow. The other marachti dived in, pressing itself low to duck under the spear’s reach—

  I swung it in a diagonal, knocking it sideways and off-course.

  Behind me, Heidi darted. Metal clashed as daggers and cutlass met again and again.

  The first of my marachti quickstepped back, like a dancer—how were these things so lithe on land and in water, when I was neither?—and rushed in again.

  No time to bring the spear’s tip around. I ducked, shoving the handle skyward to catch the blow—

  The dagger crashed against the wood haft. It embedded there for a second—

  My spear!

  Teeth gritted, I kicked out.

  It slammed the marachti in the chest. It staggered back, hand releasing the dagger—

  Before I could tug it out, the second was on me again. It hissed a battle cry, coming in high this time—

  I swung low, sending out a leg. My foot slammed the marachti’s heels—but instead of going over it staggered, then corrected.

  The stagger was enough to send the blade off-course. But only just; I felt it whisper past my shoulder.

  “On your left, Mira!”

  I twisted. One of Heidi’s foes had stepped away. The flurry of Feruiduin’s Cutlass was too much; and it had taken a nick, its arm oozing pale blue blood the color of a syrupy WKD. Fingers squeezing its dagger, it darted past Heidi’s range of motion, reared to press forward—


  “Oh, come on,” I grunted. Sidestepping the marachti who’d just missed me, I twisted. Heidi swung around behind me, biting off another string of profanities as her blade clanged twice in quick successions.

  Swinging Decidian’s Spear around, I stabbed for my new attacker while Heidi picked up with the old one.

  The marachti ducked low. Sensing its moment, it darted in—

  I drew the spear back, and stabbed again, teeth gritted—

  The marachti roared as it embedded into the folds that obscured its gill. A spurt of blood jetted out like I’d just released my thumb from the end of a hose.

  It jerked backward and away. The dagger it carried skittered to the floor, bouncing somewhere out of sight.

  I had a moment’s pause to tug the dagger embedded in the spear free. It came with more effort than I expected, and I grimaced at the gouge carved in the handle. Would the spear heal itself, or was I going to be carrying it around with battle scars forever?

  All worries about the health of my spear’s haft disappeared as a yellow fish slammed the side of my head. I staggered sideways, blinking back stars. Only knowing the blow had come from the right, I raised the spear—

  A dagger whistled past, and its tip grazed my arm—

  I hissed, and suddenly the stars were gone.

  The marachti looming over me bared teeth, raising the blade again.

  I bared mine back. “I hope that was an insult in your language, snake!”

  I slammed the spear’s haft into its face. The thing didn’t have much of a nose—which was a shame, because it meant there was nothing to break—but it whipped backward, and I brought the spear to bear.

  I jabbed low, slicing the edge of a leg—

  It wailed, a scream like a frog—

  The blade swung forward again, blindly stabbing—

  I threw up the spear. Too slow. It didn’t catch the blade, but the marachti’s arm. The force of it sent me stumbling back, low, past Heidi.

  She grimaced, glancing at me for just a moment before swinging her cutlass again. “Getting tired of this now.”

  “I was getting tired of it yesterday. Is this normal for Seekers, always getting into swordfights with strange creatures?”

  “Nothing about my life has been normal since I met you, Brand,” Heidi said with a smirk as she whipped the cutlass back around after her foe of choice.

  I was back up, spear spinning. “Fair point. Just checking. Don’t recall my dad saying anything about swordfights, that’s all.” The marachti edged back. It limped, one hand pressed to its leg. “At least we’re winning—”

  Another came forward to replace it as the one I’d wounded withdrew behind the fresh marachti.

  “Oh, come on!” I cried, and swung.

  We parried. I caught the blade, sent the marachti stepping backward just in time to block a blow from my left. I jabbed out with the spear’s handle, cracking this dagger-less assailant across the face; its gills responded with another gush—then I was dancing in a circle to cover Heidi’s side as she moved.

  Breath came hard.

  No sleep. Why did I keep running into these things with no sleep? And not even a can of 5-hour Energy to carry me through. This was sheer adrenaline—and that adrenaline was fading fast. Like a sparkler, it went up bright and furious, short-lived before sighing out.

  And I was close to sighing out.

  I narrowly dodged another stabbing dagger again, from overhead this time. It barely missed my face by a half-inch, though, and I yelped.

  “Leave my friend alone!” Heidi shouted, and swung the cutlass above me. I yelped again.

  Blue liquid sprayed across my cheek, catching in my left eyelash. Ugh.

  The marachti were panting too. But they had more power to use, more energy. Though we were pocking them with injuries, they had greater reserves. And they just—kept—coming.

  “We need to finish this,” I groaned, narrowly blocking another attack. My hair was sweated to my head.

  “Be my guest,” Heidi replied.

  I opened my mouth to say, “Gladly,” when—

  A low hum reverberated from the organ.

  We all twisted as one as another pulse of blue light cascaded across us.

  One of the many pipes leading to the ceiling had disintegrated, or at least a hole wide enough to reveal its cavity. Flaked coral splayed the immobile keys … and above it, rested within the pipe, glassy and swirling with water—

  “The Tide of Ages!” Heidi cried.

  The marachti leapt for it—

  I was closer.

  “Mira, get it!”

  Heidi threw herself ahead of the marachti, cutlass flying—

  And I burst forward, eyes firmly on the Tide of Ages, shaking the spear down to its glamoured form so it was not unwieldy, so it would not ruin this—

  One of the marachti was nearer than me, though. The most unscathed of the lot, it jetted forward with immense speed.

  It was going to get there first.

  On instinct alone, I took a flying leap—

  My hand gripped the marachti by one ankle.

  It staggered forward—twisted back—but it was tipping, in slow-motion, tipping forward into the stone floor—

  “Not today,” I breathed, rolling past—

  On my feet—

  Metal clanged. Heidi roared. There was a painful noise, and one of the marachti hissed, stumbling backward—

  I flew up the steps to the pulpit, hand extended—

  My fingers closed on it.

  The Tide of Ages seemed to groan. It wobbled under the water’s gyration. And it was warm, like seas I wished nothing more than to dip my feet into.

  But I had it.

  Shaking Decidian’s Spear back to full-length, ready to take the marachti heading up the rear lest it try to wrest this thing from me. I turned, opened my mouth and shouted, “I have it!”—

  Just in time to see the marachti that had been coming for the Tide of Ages double back, raise his blade in spite as he looked at me, glimmer of fury in his eyes—

  And it buried its dagger deep into Heidi’s back.

  29

  Time tears us all apart. Through nature. Though our own choices.

  I became a Seeker, an occupation that takes me to dangerous places, that puts me at higher risk than others.

  But I never expected to see someone—someone I considered one of my own—go like this.

  A scream wanted to loose from my mouth. But like that increasingly familiar feeling of stuckness, of being a deer dazzled by headlights, I was totally and utterly frozen, unable to shift. I could only watch as the light left Heidi’s eyes—and then the marachti behind her yanked out the dagger, and she dropped, slack, leaving the blade slick with blood.

  Its eyes were on me.

  I was next.

  Next.

  Heidi was gone.

  The panic and fear hit me in one violent eruption. Eyes bulging, body flooded with spiky blackness, my fingers tight on the Tide of Ages, I screamed, “NOOO!!”

  But as that ‘N’ gave way to the first ‘O’ in a line a lifetime long, something happened. In my hands, the Tide of Ages seemed to … give. The surface, glassy and solid, suddenly seemed to soften. It grew permeable—but only on one side; the interior. And from it came—

  Water. The churning wave that had been contained inside the Tide of Ages passed the barrier holding it in. Swirling and growing around my hands, like the coursing of the whirlpool that had sucked all but these last, hardiest marachti away, it rotated around and around, counter-clockwise.

  The moment first froze—and then, as the water grew faster, time turned backward.

  I stared, wide-eyed as Heidi’s body rose in reverse, a puppet yanked up by invisible strings. The dagger went back in … the light came back on in her eyes … then the dagger was removed—or un-put-in—and the marachti retreated, flashing a look of pure malice at me that evaporated as it lowered the blade, eyes determined as the distance
between them grew—

  The twisting waters slowed.

  Time was going to unpause. It was going to begin again.

  And with it, Heidi would take that dagger to the back a second time.

  The Tide of Ages’ spin ceased. The marachti’s backward motion ended and he froze—

  Before I knew what I was doing, I was sprinting. I had just a fraction of a second to get there—

  The waters retracted into the Tide of Ages, its surface becoming glassy and solid again in my hands—in my hand, because the other was on Decidian’s Spear—and then both were, the Tide of Ages dropping to the floor with a clunk that sounded somehow wrong in this vacuum of timelessness.

  The marachti surged forward for the second time—

  Heidi began to turn—

  The dagger rose. The marachti’s slitted eyes bulged with grim fervor—

  I shoved in between them, swinging Decidian’s Spear up and overhead—just as the dagger sailed down.

  The creature’s wrist slammed the spear’s long handle, coming down between where my hands held it, arms extended to full length.

  Its face twisted in confusion. The dagger wobbled—

  “Don’t you dare,” I snarled, and thrust up.

  The move, and the marachti’s confusion—how had I blinked across here so fast?—left it off-guard. Stumbling backward, it let out a hiss. Its legs went sideways to catch itself, then it reared, righting again—

  And fell short at the glinting tip of Decidian’s Spear pointed right to the thing’s gilled throat.

  “Mira?” Heidi said. “Where’d you come from? You were … I thought you were at the organ.”

  “What can I say? They don’t call me Quick Legs Brand for nothing.”

  Heidi’s confusion deepened, rolling across her face and lowering her brow. “Mira, no one calls you that.”

  “Yeah, well, they should start.”

  And then I choked. Because, just seconds ago, I’d seen Heidi die, right here. And somehow, this little orb, this thing we’d been searching for without having any clue what it did, had given me a do-over. It had rewound ten seconds, five straddling Heidi’s life and death in either direction. And now she was back. She was back, and she had no damned idea how close she’d come to having lost after fighting all this time.