Iron Tide Rising

by Carrie Ryan

  Fin chuckled. “I’m surprised you even have to ask,” he said as he pulled the strings on his skysails.

  She bit her lip. “But we won’t make it with the two of us. It’s too much weight.” She turned to face him. “You should go on. Follow Rose, find the last mirror, figure out how to save Ardent.”

  He waited for her to laugh, but she didn’t. “Wait, you’re being serious?” he asked.

  She nodded. “You don’t need me. If the last mirror doesn’t work, our only option is to use the Evershear. You have to be there. I don’t.”

  He blinked at her, incredulous. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here.”

  Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin. “I can figure out a place to hide. I’ll be totally safe.”

  He shook his head. “Marrill, it’s not about that. I’m not facing the end of the world without you. It’s always been you and me together, and it always will be.”

  Her eyes glistened, and she smiled. “Thanks,” she said.

  “Plus, the Evershear is incredibly easy to use,” he added. “I mean, it just slices through stuff like it isn’t even there!” He made little swoops through the air with his arm, getting carried away with how awesome the blade was.

  Marrill cleared her throat. “That’s great,” she said. “But it still doesn’t help us get across.”

  Fin grimaced. There was that. But then the more he watched, the more he realized Rose wasn’t actually on the other side of the canyon. She was circling right above it. Dipping down, even, halfway through her flight pattern, always at the point directly over the middle of the drop.

  “Maybe we don’t have to make it to the other side,” he said. “Maybe we’re not supposed to cross this chasm at all.” Marrill raised an eyebrow. He spun, offering her his back. “Hop on,” he said, folding his hands behind him in a makeshift step. “Quick, before we get a bad case of the red lightnings.”

  Without hesitation, she climbed onto his back, clinging tight around his neck. Fin threw out his arms. “Hold on!” he called as he leapt into the void. As before, the lack of wind in the Mirrorweb made skysailing a challenge. There were no air currents to ride, no drafts to bank against.

  But all Fin really needed was to control their fall a bit, and his skysails worked perfectly for that. He aimed them toward a mirror tilted away from them at a 45-degree angle. “Brace yourself, there’s going to be a bit of a drop,” he warned. Then he pulled his arms to his chest, and they plummeted.

  They hit the face of the mirror with an ooof and a tangle of arms and legs. Almost immediately, they began sliding, skidding down the steep slope of the mirror face. Perhaps, Fin thought, he should have warned Marrill about his plan.

  His fears were blown away when she threw her arms up and let out a loud “Wheeeeee!”

  Their laughter seemed to fill the iron surroundings. When they reached the bottom, Fin tucked and rolled, letting his momentum carry him forward. Marrill did the same, and a few moments later, they found themselves stumbling to a stop near the entrance to a narrow tunnel of mirrors.

  Fin glanced at it uneasily. It looked dark. And ominous. And really, really scary.

  But that didn’t stop Rose. She winged past them, diving into the tunnel with a whoosh. Behind her, there was a crackle of energy—the sound of lightning striking iron. The Master was on their tail.

  They had no choice but to follow the bird. Fin looked at Marrill, and she nodded. Together they plunged into the tunnel after Rose. The mirror walls were close, arching low overhead. The only sound was their pounding footsteps; the only confirmation Marrill still trailed after him, the echo of her ragged breathing.

  They ran and ran. No other tunnels branched off. There were no gaps between the mirrors. The only option was to continue forward. Wherever they were going, there would be no retreat, not with the Master behind them. Fin dropped his hand to the hilt of the Evershear, ready to turn and do battle at any moment.

  And then, suddenly, the tunnel opened up. The walls swung in a wide circle, the ceiling arching into a dome overhead. They were standing inside a mirror ball. The shock of it ground them both to a halt.

  Fin gaped at his surroundings. It wasn’t the space that surprised him, though.

  It was the light.

  Because the mirrors along the walls still shone with possibility. Though most were already growing dull as the Iron Tide leached from the tunnel, oozing its way around the chamber, slowly eking out whatever life remained.

  “The Tide’s coming in from all sides,” Marrill said. Despair was heavy in her voice.

  Fin understood why. The Tide had already swept across the rest of the Mirrorweb and was converging on this point. This was the last bastion of the Pirate Stream.

  They glanced at each other. Marrill held out a hand, and Fin took it. Together they slowly walked toward the far wall. There, one mirror waited, still shining bright with possibility—untouched by the Tide.

  Rose perched on its corner, preening her scribbled wings.

  They’d found the final mirror.

  CHAPTER 23

  Black Mirror

  Marrill’s heart thundered as she approached the final mirror. This, according to the Dawn Wizard, was her only chance to save Ardent. As long as this one possibility remained, so too did they all.

  She had assumed that she would just know what to do once she found it. That’s what the Dawn Wizard had promised. But as she drew closer, as the vision within it became clearer, the answer grew less and less so.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see in the last mirror. Maybe a vision of her saving Ardent. Maybe a world where she and Ardent stood together on the Kraken, like they had so many times in the past.

  She was positive there was one thing she hadn’t expected to see here. She tilted her head to the side, sure she couldn’t be seeing right.

  “Is that… the Naysayer?” Fin asked. “Wearing a tuxedo? And is he dancing with—”

  Marrill nodded. “Yup. Pretty sure.”

  Fin grunted. “Well, that’s not a possibility any of us wants.”

  She wanted to laugh, she really did. But the sound that came out was more of a sob. She didn’t understand. This was the final mirror? How was this the answer? It didn’t make sense.

  She moved closer, pressing a hand against it. Wondering if that might make a difference. But the surface was smooth and cold beneath her touch. Just like every other mirror.

  There was nothing special about this possibility at all. Unless you counted the Naysayer looking dapper. Which she didn’t.

  She spun toward Fin. “What are we supposed to do?” she asked. Even she could hear the edge of panic in her voice. He said nothing, only stood there stricken, watching as the Iron Tide spread across the surrounding mirrors.

  Clearly, he didn’t know, either.

  Marrill’s pulse tripped, her breathing growing strained. She realized now what this meant. She’d been so sure that if she found the last mirror she could save Ardent. The Dawn Wizard had told her!

  And then a horrible thought caused her stomach to plummet. “The Dawn Wizard is a trickster. He told us that himself.” She ran a hand down her face, pressing it against her chest, where her heart ached so hard she feared it might actually break.

  What had she done?

  “I trusted him,” she breathed.

  She looked back to Fin. “And you trusted me.”

  This was all her fault. She had to find some way to fix it.

  Her eyes dropped to where Fin’s hand still rested on the hilt of the Evershear. Hope sprang to life inside her. She lunged toward him. “You can still get the Master,” she said, pushing him toward the door. “If you run, you can get to him before it’s too late. Before the Tide takes the last possibility.”

  He dug his heels against the ground. “What are you doing?” she cried. “Go!”

  If she strained, she could hear the soft clank of the Master’s iron boots in the distance. His steps were slow, purposeful. As if
he was taking his time, now that he knew he could. Now that they were trapped with no way to stop the Tide.

  “It’s too late,” Fin said, confirming the words her heart already knew. Even if he sprinted in a collision course, he would never be able to strike before the Master blasted him to cinders. Let alone before the final mirror vanished into iron.

  Gently, Fin placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her toward the mirror.

  The edges had begun to tarnish, the vivid purple of the Naysayer’s hide leaching of color. “No.” She shook her head. “No, no, no, no! This isn’t how it’s supposed to end,” she shouted, suddenly angry.

  She ran to the mirror, slapping her hands against it as if she could somehow physically hold back the Tide. But of course she couldn’t.

  In the final possibility, the debonair Naysayer twirled his partner past the edge of the mirror and then turned, as though aware of his audience, and executed a bow.

  And he remained like that. Frozen in iron for all eternity.

  Marrill’s legs gave way. She sagged to the ground, staring down at her empty hands, unable to meet Fin’s gaze. “I was so sure,” she whispered. “This mirror. It was supposed to save Ardent. It was supposed to save us all.”

  They’d failed.

  No, she realized. She’d failed. Fin had the opportunity to strike down the Master and save the Stream, and she’d stopped him.

  Because of her, the Master of the Iron Ship had won. Destruction ruled. Every mirror had turned to iron. All possibility had been destroyed. The fight was over.

  The Pirate Stream was no more.

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed. Tears leaked down her cheeks. Above her, Rose flapped her scribbled wings but remained perched on the mirror.

  After a moment Fin muttered, “I don’t get it.”

  She looked up at him, confused. “Huh?”

  His forehead furrowed in thought. “What happens to us now?”

  She shrugged. It hadn’t occurred to her to think past the end of the Pirate Stream. “I guess we’re trapped here forever. Or at least until the Master arrives.” She held her breath, listening for him. His steps still echoed in the distance, slow and steady like the heartbeat of a venomous reptile.

  Fin smiled. “Exactly.”

  She had no idea why he looked so happy. “I think you’ve lost me.”

  He dug into his pocket, doing a little spin before crouching next to her. He held both arms tucked behind his back. “In one hand I’m holding a tentalo. And in the other, nothing,” he told her. “Pick one.”

  Her first thought was that now wasn’t the best time for a magic trick. But then she figured, why not? It was either choose a hand or lament the end of the world.

  He grinned. “Pick the right one, and you get to eat it. So which is which, Marrill Aesterwest?”

  She let out a breath of laughter. “Well, you did just give me the answer… so I guess I’ll go with the right one.”

  “Excellent choice,” he said, wriggling his shoulders. But then he hesitated. “Though, before I show you… is it possible it could be in my left hand instead?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course. You’re basically presenting me with a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “Exactly.” Ever the showman, he drew his hands from behind his back and presented them to her. His right held a bright yellow fruit with six squiggly growths coming off it. The other was empty.

  Marrill gave a wry smile. “Finally I get to find out what a tentalo tastes like.”

  Fin made quick work of peeling it and held a section out to her. She plucked the fruit from his palm and took a big bite, slurping the juice from her fingers.

  Her tongue shriveled, her eyes crossing when the sour aftertaste hit her full force. It almost knocked the air from her lungs. She gasped for breath.

  Fin laughed. “I probably should have warned you about that.”

  “All this time…” Her words trailed off as the bitter sour gave way to the sweetest, most delicious flavor she’d ever tasted. She let out an appreciative “mmmmmmmm.”

  “Right? That’s the best part of the tentalo. The after aftertaste.”

  She swallowed, reluctantly, and smacked her lips.

  “So what do you think would have happened if you’d chosen my left hand?” Fin asked, offering her another segment of fruit.

  She popped it in her mouth and braced herself against the arresting sour, almost choking from the force of it. “I don’t know,” she finally managed. “I probably would have whined until you let me have a taste.”

  “Exactly,” Fin said again. “You could have chosen differently. There was another possibility.” He looked at her pointedly.

  Marrill sucked in a breath and jumped to her feet. “Not everything is certain yet.” Her mind spun as she thought it through. “So the Iron Tide hasn’t taken everything.”

  He beamed. “Yup. There must be another mirror somewhere. One that the Tide missed. And the Dawn Wizard said that so long as there is one possibility, there are all possibilities.” He looked toward the tunnel. “We just have to find it.”

  And then understanding hit her with such force that she practically staggered under the weight of it. Another mirror. She thrust her hand into her pocket, feeling the sharp edges of the shard press against her palm. Every piece of a broken mirror was a mirror in and of itself.

  Her heart sped up, pounding painfully against her ribs. “You’re right,” she said. “There is another mirror.”

  She pulled the shard free, glancing at the possibility of her mother, alive and healthy. She traced a finger across her mother’s smile before tilting it so Fin could see. “It broke off when I tried to cut free the mirror with my mom in it.”

  His eyes met hers, and she could see confusion. “You’ve had that all this time?” There was a note of betrayal to his voice.

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “I didn’t mean for it to be a secret, I just—” She wasn’t sure what to say. How to explain why she hadn’t told him.

  “Remember when you used the Map to see your mom? When everyone thought you’d destroyed the Key?”

  Fin nodded.

  “I get why you did that now.” She cradled the shard in her hands. “Sometimes there are things so important that you’re almost afraid that if you say them out loud, they’ll no longer be real.” She swallowed, trying to find the courage to explain. “I was saving this possibility for the end. I thought we could save the Stream, and then I could use this to—make it come true. And then my mom would live, and everything would work out.”

  She blinked, allowing the tears to trail down her cheeks. “It’s the only way I can save her.” She clutched her fingers around the mirror, obscuring its face. “But I don’t know how to make it real. And I’m afraid…” Her voice cracked and she drew a trembling breath. “I’m afraid I can’t save her after all.”

  Fin sighed and placed his hand over hers so that they both held the shard together. “Maybe you can’t, Marrill.”

  She closed her eyes against the words, emptiness swelling inside her at the thought of losing her mom. She shook her head. “But that’s why I came on the Stream. That’s why I stayed.”

  Fin tugged her hand, forcing her to look at him. “You stayed because you were also running from the possibility of her death.” His tone was gentle, even if his words weren’t.

  “I wasn’t running away,” she argued.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe you and Ardent aren’t all that different this way,” he said. “Rather than facing the loss of Annalessa, rather than face his own heartache and guilt, he decided to tear the world apart. He was faced with losing the person he loved—and all of a sudden, he could only see one possibility.”

  She stared at him, unable to speak. She wanted to protest. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That she and the Master were nothing alike.

  But she couldn’t.

  She pulled away from him, stumbling back. She stared at the shard in her hand, the images inside
blurry from the tears in her eyes.

  She’d have torn apart the Stream if it meant saving her mom. How could she blame Ardent for doing the same?

  “Here’s where the Master’s wrong, Marrill,” Fin said. “And here’s where you’re wrong, too: Love outlasts death.” He let that sink in. “I know because I lost my own mother, but I still love her. We lost Coll and Fig, but they still matter to us. Life isn’t about loss. It’s about joy and sharing and friendship and love.”

  He spread his arms to the iron mirrors surrounding them. “It’s about possibility. Yes, that means the possibility of pain and heartache. But it’s also the possibility of something good. Of something unexpected. You and I would have never met without it. Remy would have never ended up on the Pirate Stream and learned to sail. The Naysayer”—he grinned—“well, maybe some possibilities are left unexplored.”

  She let out a watery laugh. He stepped forward, cupping her shoulders.

  “You’re not giving up on your mom, Marrill,” he told her. “You’re just facing reality. She’s sick. Running away from it can’t fix it. The only thing you can do is love her and spend time with her and live your life knowing that there’s the possibility her illness gets worse and the possibility that she gets better and a hundred possibilities in between.”

  His words caused a mixture of pain and sorrow, happiness and hope, to swirl through her. She nodded, feeling the truth of it in her heart. “You’re right,” she told him, voice cracking.

  He met her eyes. “So long as there’s one possibility, there’s every possibility.” He took her hand again, wrapping his fingers around hers, both of them gripping the final shard. “Which means so long as this mirror exists, we can still save the Stream.”

  A red glow came from the tunnel, turning the air around them crimson. The air crackled with energy as the Master drew close.

  “But you have to be willing to let go of Ardent,” Fin added softly.

  She knew what he was saying. He was really telling her that she had to let go of her mom. Let go of the certainty of her future. He was right, but it still hurt to nod. To give up on the known to leap into the unknown.