Back at my starting point, my eyebrows knitted.
“Nothing?” Carson asked.
“The boundary didn’t move, no.”
“I guess we’d better make do with hail then,” said Heidi.
I hesitated, eyebrows lowering. “I wonder …”
I crouched.
Carson asked, “Mira, what are you—?”
“There’s a pillar holding this thing up. Maybe London is …”
Sure enough, as I brought the compass right to the platform’s floor, the boundary shifted. The London Eye grew on its face—but it still took up no more than two-thirds, with that remaining third still comprised of dead forest and inclement weather.
“Excuse me,” I said to Carson, creeping to the edge. “Can you, um, like hold onto my other arm? So I don’t fall?”
“I … I’m not very strong.”
“Well, I don’t weigh a whole lot. Please?”
He would decline, I thought, and it would be Heidi’s job to step up instead. But though his expression sagged, and a touch of that queasy grey crept back into his cheeks, he nodded, and followed me to the precipice.
Orienting myself sideways, body as low as I could possibly make it, I extended my left hand to Carson. He wiped the sweat from his palms on his trousers, and took it.
My other hand, the one holding the compass, I lowered.
I forced myself not to let my eyes drift to the darkness below. Somehow, despite the gelatinous wreck I’d turned into, they still wanted to go—to stare death into the face.
Instead I gazed at the compass as it lowered … and the boundary shifted sideways farther still, bringing the London Eye to a full three quarters of the view.
“It’s down there,” I said, clambering to my feet and returning to the platform’s center, and the safety it provided. “If we can get a gateway on the pillar, we can get back out on the Thames.”
“How do we do that, though?” Carson asked.
“Easy,” Heidi said. “We’ll just rappel down with your manbag.”
“It’s a satchel.”
“It’s an embarrassment, that’s what it is.”
“Shut up,” I begged, “please? I need to think of something. Just give me a few minutes without arguing like a pair of children.”
Heidi didn’t look particularly happy about it, and to his credit, neither did Carson. But they both quieted, Heidi ambling to a corner to resume her cold lean against one of the pillars.
I sank down by the pedestal. Knees bent, I rested my elbows on them, head in my hands.
Think, Mira, think.
At least when I’d acquired Decidian’s Spear, the cleft in the roof had allowed vines to spill in and seal my get-away. This place had nothing but rock.
Maybe attempting to abseil with Carson’s manbag was our only option. Question was, what did we affix it to?
Even better question: how much weight could it manage? It put up with Carson gripping it like a lifeline well enough, but I doubted it would support Heidi, let alone me or Carson.
Carson sank down next to me. His face was tense—but still that worried gleam flickered in the back of his eyes.
“Maybe we just take our chances,” he said.
I shook my head. “No.”
“But it’s just a coin flip. Fifty-fifty. If we lose, we just … find another way back.”
“It’s not that easy, Carson. That one of the problems with going blind—you know, besides ending up in a fire nymph camp or any other deadly predicament fate might throw at us. We could end up stumbling right into something lethal, or ending up hitting the boundary by mistake.” I peered at the compass face. “This is close.”
“Surely it’s not that difficult though. We just—we find civilization, and make our way to London from there.”
“Most of our world isn’t civilization, though. It’s desert, or rainforest—and something like sixty percent of it is just water.”
“Seventy-one,” Carson murmured. “Oceans are about ninety-six point five percent of that.”
I fixed him with a sidelong look. He lifted a nervous sort of smile.
“We’ve got to get back to London.” I paused, closing my eyes. “Anywhere else is just ammunition.”
“Ammunition for what?”
“My parents.” And there it was, the thing I’d been trying so hard to avoid thinking of, and yet at the same time could not get away from, no matter how I tried.
Carson said, low, “They put a lot of pressure on you.” It was not a question.
“You could say that.” I sighed. “They’re … difficult. It’s the whole reason I ran away.”
“You ran away?”
“You didn’t think I grew up on the streets of London by myself, did you? I’m seventeen, Carson.” Sarcastically, I tacked on, “A kid.”
“I didn’t know. I just assumed … I don’t know what I assumed.”
“I ran away.”
“Why?”
“Because I was sick and tired of them riding me all the time!” I’d raised my voice, the shout lost to the atrium’s cavernous void. “Sorry.”
“I’m sure they were just worried about you,” Carson said quietly.
I snorted a laugh from my nose. “Funny way of showing it.”
We were quiet for a while.
Carson broke the silence.
“I wouldn’t mind having parents who worried about me like that. Especially with …” He waved a hand around us. “You know. This stuff.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you had them.”
“Well … mine are dead, so I guess we’ll never know.”
I paused, caught for a moment. Carson had delivered it so matter-of-factly. Plain and simple, without any of the heartache I was certain I would glimpse in his eyes if only he would look my way.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. Why would you?” He shrugged, a rise and fall of the shoulders that might have been the answer to a question like, Where should we go eat? or Do you know which movie you want to watch? Not this.
“It’s why I’m here, you know?” he continued, and now he did look at me, and there was something in the back of his eyes, something that had always been there, and now, here, he had shone a dim flashlight beam on it and let me see. “In England. I needed to … get out, for a while—of … America. Home.”
Lightning exploded.
Before the rumble had ceased, Heidi was stamping across to us—
“ALAIN BORRICK!” she roared as she passed.
I fumbled, stumbling to my feet and whirling.
And there he was. So very distant, on the ledge around the atrium’s edge, but three things confirmed it. Two of them—dark hair, and that dark jacket enshrouding his V-shaped chest—would have been enough to raise my suspicions.
What made Alain Borrick’s presence utterly unmistakable, though, was the orc army flooding out of the tunnel behind him.
24
Carson scrabbled up alongside us, panic washing his face. “Who’s that?”
I rounded on Heidi, talking over him. “How do you know Borrick?”
“I’ve crossed paths with him before,” she said grimly.
“Who is he?” Carson repeated.
“Another Seeker,” I said, “but this one’s got his own personal army.”
That army was presently spreading across the atrium’s ledge—the entire ledge. Turning a short circle, I could see them flooding from the other three tunnels, where the bridges had connected to this central platform. We were surrounded on all sides.
“You know him?” Carson asked me.
“I met him briefly yesterday. He wasn’t very happy with me for managing to get my hands on Decidian’s Spear before him.”
“Which means he’s going to be so chuffed that you grabbed Feruiduin’s Cutlass first too,” Heidi said.
“Well, what do we do?” Carson asked.
“We’re safe for now.” And taking
great joy in her taunt, Heidi shouted across the chasm, “SORRY, ALAIN! LOOKS LIKE THE BRIDGE IS OUT!”
He did not call back to us, instead walking back and forth along the ledge’s terminus, hands clasped behind his back. From so far, he was a stick figure, but each action was perfectly visible: clad in so much black and deep purple, he formed a kind of silhouette against snot-green orc skin and chipped red armor.
“Oh, geez,” Carson whispered. He looked like he was on the urge of hyperventilating. “Those are—those are—”
“Orcs,” Heidi finished for him. “Good observation, genius.”
“Oh, geez.”
“Don’t worry,” I said in my best reassuring voice. “They can’t get across to us. We’re safe as long as—that. Doesn’t. Change.”
A pair of orcs had brought something forward. From so distant, it resembled a fat brown roll, furled over and over. I squinted, trying to make out—what were those lines? It looked like a pile of sticks, maybe the width of my forearm each, tied at either end with much more rope than was strictly necessary.
The orcs laid the roll on the last fractured remains of the broken bridge. They stepped back, replaced by Borrick, who lifted a hand—and waved.
The roll instantly began to unfurl. One end affixed to the ledge, it flew out, uncoiling at a terrific pace toward us—
“Ladders!” Heidi cried. “They have ladders!”
“Magical roll-up ladders,” Carson added, rapt with awe and horror all at once.
I stumbled back, knocking into the pedestal. Turned.
Replacing all four shattered bridges, ladders unwound of their own volition. They came right for us in a horizontal line, never sagging, never dropping into the churning darkness below us. It was as if each was suspended on a set of invisible hooks.
The ladder from Borrick was almost upon us.
I yanked the umbrella from my belt. It had been attached by a small metal book; now that clinked off, bouncing at my feet and then careening over the edge.
The spear extended.
I leapt forward with it, ready to stab—
The rope ladder slammed the edge of the platform, the perfect length.
I swung down—
The air surrounding the ladder’s edge was suddenly solid. Decidian’s Spear rattled off, unable to make contact.
“No,” I whispered.
“Mira …”
I stabbed again, pushing with all my might. But no matter how hard I shoved, I could—not—make—contact!
“Heidi?” I called.
“Cutlass won’t do it either!” she shouted back. “I think it’s just the end, though; if we could crawl out—”
“Mira!” Carson cried.
I looked at him. He was pointing over my shoulder.
I turned—
Orcs were thundering, sure-footed, over the ladder. It barely moved under their weight, nor did it sag. They might have been running over the top of a steel set of monkey bars, rather than a perilous length of rope and wood suspended over certain death.
And not just this one. A desperate glance behind showed me that they were coming down every ladder. In just seconds they would be upon us.
“Right, change of plan,” I said. There was a panicky note in my voice. I fought to keep it at bay. “Heidi, you, err, you know how to use that cutlass?”
“Swing it at bad guys?”
“Good enough!”
Carson: “What are we doing?!”
“We’re going to have to fight.”
“But—but I don’t have a weapon!”
“Just stay behind me!”
I didn’t have time to say more. The nearest orcs were finally upon us.
I jabbed with the spear at the red and green train hurtling toward me. The leading orc braced, pushing forward with a shoulder to meet the spear. I jerked it higher at the last second, stabbing for his face. He squawked, and twisted, foot missing a step—
Then he was falling over the brink. Another tried to grab hold—but he overbalanced and went down too.
More were already rushing forward to replace them.
I backpedaled, shooting a glance behind me.
Four bridges. Three of us.
We couldn’t cover them all.
“Carson!” I shouted. He was staring with bulbous eyes from the pedestal, his manbag gripped tightly between his fingers as a makeshift shield: he’d positioned himself between me and Heidi, on our side, where we covered two adjacent bridges.
Orcs on the two opposite were short seconds from reaching us.
“I need you to cover one of the bridges!”
“B-but—but how?”
“Swing your manbag at them!”
“But they’re orcs!”
“Just do it, damn it!!”
Credit to him: when hopelessly cornered, as we had been by the Order of Apdau in Russell Square, he could put up a fight. There was no resolute nod, no flare of determination—but he leapt around the pedestal, legs almost skidding out from under him before he righted, and flew for the bridge opposite Heidi.
“GET OUT OF HERE!” he shrieked, a sound rivaled the storm overhead—and then he was swinging.
I had time to admire one orc lurch over the edge, so caught off-guard by a five-foot-eleven American nerd swinging a satchel at him—then more were on me, and I had to swing Decidian’s Spear in a long arc. It sailed—the orc nearest ducked, but his friend behind him didn’t, executing a perfect Olympian dive before he realized his mistake—he wailed, grabbing out for anything he could manage to find. In this case, it was the first orc’s pauldron. His brutal fist closed around a spike of bone, and pulled. Orc #1’s face had just enough time to contort in terror—and then both were sailing away.
“THIEVES!” came a roar from behind us.
I pivoted.
The last bridge was crested.
Damn it! Why hadn’t I managed to pick up at least one more hanger-on?
I threw myself into motion, swinging Decidian’s Spear up and over my head. The tip sailed a smooth arc, silver and faintly purple—then it was jabbing for this new threat as I dodged Heidi’s swing of Feruiduin’s Cutlass to skirt the pedestal—
The orc threw up his shoulder. The spear slammed it—bounced off, totally harmless—
“RELINQUISH THESE STOLEN ARTIFACTS, SPINELESS THIEF!”
“Spineless?”
From Heidi: “When did this one meet Carson?”
“I’m—not—spineless!” Carson swung his satchel overhead like he was doing the hammer throw. The next orc on his bridge yelped and stumbled, one foot disappearing through the gap between horizontal rungs. The orc behind lurched into him, then bounced off.
“These—artifacts—are—mine!” I shouted, stabbing and stabbing. This new orc, face a network of scars, dodged each blow. “You’re not having them!”
He growled, teeth bared.
I’d stab him right in that stupid fat head of his.
I thrust forward—
Scarface caught the spear in his grip.
“Wrong,” he growled—and pulled.
I yelped, suddenly lifted—
“Mira!”
The orc swung. I went with it, like the end of an oversized fly-swatter—
Hold on!
—then he jerked it, loosing my fingers, and I was sailing clear. I screamed as I flew through empty space—
Then my back slammed one of the corner pillars, and I landed with a grunt.
No breath. No breath left in me.
“MIRA!” Carson cried.
Scarface lifted Decidian’s Spear, temporarily overtaken by wonder. His eyes gleamed across its surface—
“GIVE IT BACK!”
The shriek came from Heidi. She leapt, looking for a protracted moment like an actual ninja, the cutlass over her head—
Then it sailed down.
Scarface squawked. The spear clattered—as did all of his fingers. Purple erupted in a gouting fountain.
I scrabbled for
ward. Heidi kicked the spear clear—it spun toward me, and I slammed a hand down on its hilt—
“HELP!”
I pivoted for Carson—
The platform was filled, orcs pushing in—
And there he was, clutched between two of them. He struggled, hands still clasped around the strap of his manbag, eyes desperately wide—
Then they were carrying him back over the bridge the way they’d come.
“CARSON!” I cried—
Then the stumpy remains of a hand clouted me in the stomach, and I was sailing backward again.
25
I slammed the pedestal. Its hard edges drove into my spine. My body flexed involuntarily to absorb it—but still I screamed, sure for an instant that my back would break, that my adventure ended here, with paralysis before death—
“Let’s just relax a moment, shall we?” The voice that spoke was calm, collected. Alain Borrick was savoring his victory, I suspected, but he wasn’t lording it over us.
Yet.
I slumped. My every breath was heavy. My eyes longed to close, to just give up and let it be over.
Somewhere beside me, Heidi landed awkwardly
“You can lower that thing, you know,” Borrick told her.
She spat back, “I’m not lowering anything for you.”
I pried my eyes open.
We were surrounded by orcs. Only a small space remained clear, an uneven triangle around me and Heidi—and strolling through it, arms behind his back, lips a thin, distasteful line, was Alain Borrick.
My fist tightened around Decidian’s Spear.
He squatted before me. Not touching the spear—not yet—but close.
“Young Mira Brand. So very determined to live up to her family name.”
I just barely held myself from spitting in his face.
Up close, he was just as handsome as I’d thought in the temple with the spear. Jaw square and defined and perfect, he could well be the model on a Men’s Health magazine, or the frontman in a rock band adored by hordes of young women, or the leading man in a movie. In another life, I might have been attracted to him.
Here, surrounded by his army, and Carson’s wails diminishing as he was carried away, I hated him.
The World Beneath (The Mira Brand Adventures Book 1) Page 16