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

by Robert J. Crane

  “Mira?” she asked over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I cleared my throat, a distinctly Carson-like sound. “The Tide of Ages is back there. I, uh, dropped it. Grab it, would you?”

  Heidi darted away. I tracked her quick steps to where the Tide of Ages had landed—more or less where I’d dropped it. It hadn’t felt over-heavy, and it had been so perfectly smooth, it ought to have rolled. Yet a moment later she had it, and she breathed an excited sigh.

  “Got it?” I asked anyway.

  “You got it,” she said. “Damn, Mira. You got it.”

  “We got it. Now, help me out, will you?”

  “Right.” Dragging herself from her reverie, she strode back to my side. “What’re we going to do?”

  “It’ll let us out shortly, I think,” I said. Glancing just momentarily at one of the filled windows, I added, “That coral is starting to flake off. Won’t be long now.”

  “It knows we have the Tide of Ages?”

  “I assume so. In the meantime, we need to do something about our friends here.”

  I hadn’t looked at Heidi once during this whole exchange. Partly because if I did I was afraid I’d well and truly break, tugging her in for a hug that she likely wouldn’t appreciate—Heidi didn’t seem the sort to do hugs—and which she would not understand. (Also, there was that whole pee thing. Her pants were still sopping, naturally.)

  But the primary cause of my distraction was the four marachti here with us. The would-be murderer remained just out of striking distance of my spear, looking all the while as though he was waiting for one single moment where my guard was down so he could swoop back in and strike again. The other three were sprawled out amidst the cathedral, bleeding from various wounds, down for a moment, but by no means out. And if they chose to regroup …

  “I can deal with this,” Heidi said.

  “Hm?”

  “Yep. Simple.” Slipping her bracelet down into her hand, she raised a hand. Then, to the marachti at the end of my spear, she said, “See ya”—and cut open a gateway under its feet.

  The marachti’s eyes bulged. It tried to stagger clear—but the hole was opened, and it disappeared through it with a hiss that terminated when its mouth passed through the gateway’s glowing white edge. The last vestige of its panicked cry echoed in the cathedral.

  “You understand English, I presume,” I addressed the others. Coming back to myself now; these words were firm, my chest full. “Seeing as Borrick has been whispering commands to you all this time, and I sincerely doubt he has the patience to learn any other language than his own.”

  “Or the capacity,” Heidi added, smirking.

  “So we can make this easy or hard,” I told the marachti. “What do you want to do?”

  Easy, it turned out. Tide of Ages officially lost, beaten in the fight, and probably not willing to face Borrick’s rage back at the top of the temple, the remaining marachti grouped together and leapt into the void. Siberia, it looked like on my compass.

  When they were gone, Heidi asked, “Do you think we’re maybe messing up the ecosystem by doing that?”

  I shrugged. “All I care about is that they’re gone.” And that Heidi was still here. But I wouldn’t tell her so.

  Heidi nodded thoughtfully. “They’re probably an invasive species, you know.”

  “Let Siberia deal with it,” I said. “I’ve had enough marachti to last me a lifetime.”

  Heidi meandered to the sealed cathedral doors—although at the rate the coral was flaking apart and falling as kaleidoscope snow, it wouldn’t be long before they had opened again. Tide of Ages in hand, she stared into its confines, the water churning endlessly within. Her lips parted, showing just a touch of teeth—and it was, I realized, Heidi Luo mesmerized. I’d never seen it before.

  “I can’t believe you got it,” she whispered.

  “We got it,” I said.

  She looked up at me, met my gaze … and smiled.

  “We got it,” she echoed. And again, like she couldn’t believe it: “We got it.”

  30

  The little matter of rising from the sunken city was not the most difficult thing in the world. Tide of Ages in hand, the coral began to peel away from the doors and windows. Water entered at our feet in a slow but quickly mounting deluge, forcing air out in enormous bubbles.

  “Take the biggest breath of your life, Heidi,” I instructed.

  She inhaled, opening her mouth as wide as it would go, like Kirby. I did the same—and then, pushing out of the nearest window, we fired ourselves directly up in a line, following the air bubbles rising all around us. It was wondrously beautiful, the warbling of water and air refracting light over and over, turning the cascade of colors of the coral below into a full kaleidoscope around our feet—

  My lungs were just beginning to burn—

  And then we surfaced.

  Carson whooped. “Mira, Heidi! Nice one!”

  Gasping for air—it felt so good—I flashed a thumb I wasn’t sure he’d see; we were quite far out, after all. And then, together, we swam back in.

  Carson was waiting with elation. He stooped by the ledge, looking as happy as I’d ever seen him. And why not? None of us had drowned today. We’d come out on top after a defeat in the second stage of the game. We had everything to celebrate.

  “I knew you could do it,” he said. He took my hand, and helped pull me out.

  “Drowned rat alert,” I said.

  “Ah, you’re fine. Heidi?”

  He stuck a hand out for her. She hesitated, glancing at it, into his face. And then, with an awkward nod of thanks and an averted gaze, she accepted and let him haul her out.

  “You’ve, uh, got small hands,” he observed when she was out.

  “Um. Yeah. Well, I’m a … small person.”

  Carson nodded. “I’m tall.”

  My eyebrows knitted in momentary confusion. For a second I felt like Bub, looking in on interaction he could not make head nor tail of. It was a thoroughly alien experience, and I had absolutely no idea why.

  Speaking of Bub: he was standing guard. Just a little way down from us, Borrick sat morosely, knees pulled in to his chest. He looked like a child denied not just his favorite toy, but every toy to ever exist. I felt sort of sorry for him.

  Not sorry enough, of course, to resist gloating.

  “We won,” I told him, stepping up and past Bub. “Again. That’s two for two now, you know that, right? Even with you trying to brute force it with your little gang of improvised telepaths.”

  He lifted his head to me … and smiled. It was not even close to genuine. “Yes, well. I almost got you this time, Brand.”

  “And still you failed. Maybe it’s time to retire before we make it three-nil, don’t you think?”

  He shook his head. “I won’t stop.”

  Heidi joined me at my elbow. “Is your pride really worth that much, Borrick? You have to get one over on us?”

  Borrick’s eyes flashed. The pasted-on smile dropped from his lips. “It’s not pride—”

  “It totally is,” Carson said from the rear.

  “Unanimous,” I said. “Go find a treasure of your own, hm? There’s plenty out there without needing to follow us around like some maligned creature.”

  Borrick scowled. He opened his mouth to snap off some witty retort, but—

  Hand on necklace, I cut an opening alongside us. It split apart, white edge shimmering, pulsing around the swirl of colors dancing inside.

  “There’s your ride home,” I said.

  He eyed it. “Where’s it go?”

  I snapped the compass from my belt, looked at its face, then showed it to Borrick. A river, surrounded by trees thick with bright green leaves. A willow’s branches kissed the surface.

  “Somewhere scenic,” I said.

  Borrick considered. Then, perhaps realizing that between the three of us we could push him in, he rose.

  “This isn’t over,” he spat, a
nd vanished into the swirling gateway.

  “There’s a movie line if I’ve ever heard one,” said Carson.

  “I hope he’s unavailable for the sequel,” Heidi muttered.

  We wandered back for the door into this expanse of sea. I took the time to enjoy one last view of the underwater city—and to add ‘Bring scuba gear’ to a list of refinements to future adventures I was mentally compiling. I dreaded to think of how I was going to look in five years’ time … and how out of place, trudging through London with every sort of precaution I could carry strapped to my back.

  Heidi dug in her pocket, and produced the watery orb we’d procured.

  Carson walked beside her. “So that’s it then? The Tide of Ages?”

  “It is.”

  “Not much different from the keys, really,” he said, watching the roiling waters churning in its core.

  Heidi scrutinized it. And then she shook it—

  “Heidi—!” I cried, bolting forward—

  But nothing happened. Nothing at all.

  Heidi shook it again. Still not a thing.

  “Stupid orb,” she muttered. “Of course it wouldn’t work.”

  Still, she gave one last shake … and then her shoulders slumped. She turned back to me, last vestiges of hope dying in her eyes. “Completely worthless.”

  My heart went out to her. And I thought about telling her, coming clean. But I couldn’t—wouldn’t. What had happened down there would be for me and me only.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s worthless,” I said.

  Heidi made a noise like she didn’t believe it. Sighing, she shook her head, and continued with her face cast earthward.

  “Bub,” Carson said, jogging to join him. “What will you do now?”

  “I don’t know,” the orc rumbled. “Go on here, I suppose. I have my boat; I can fish.”

  “But you’re exiled. That’s not an existence. Not a meaningful one.”

  “It is my penance.”

  A line had formed between Heidi’s eyebrows. Glancing ahead, at Bub’s armored back, she said, “Can you carry out your exile anywhere?”

  “That an orc is banished is all that matters for an exile,” he answered, looking back at her.

  She nodded. And then … “Why don’t you … come back with us?”

  Carson stopped short. Pivoted. His bottom jaw hung, slack. “Wow.”

  I’d stopped too. So had all of us, at this.

  “Wait, wait,” I said quickly. “Are you mad? Do you not remember the orcs at the Chalice Gloria utterly losing their minds at the sight of—”

  “I would be most honored to travel with you,” Bub said over the top of me.

  Bearing Carson’s shellshocked expression myself now, I turned to Bub. “But … but … all those cars, and buses, and trains, and … and congestion and pollution and city life …”

  Bub just rolled an easy shrug. “I’ve been to the place you call ‘New York’ once. Some of my kind live in fear of it, but past the fear of all things new … it’s not so bad.”

  “You went to New York?” Carson asked.

  Bub nodded.

  Heidi said, “Didn’t anyone realize that you’re, you know … not … human?”

  Another shrug. “They seemed to think I was … what is the word … ‘cosplay’?”

  “Geez,” Carson murmured. “You must’ve been the most impressive cosplay they’d even seen in their lives.”

  “Perhaps,” said Bub. “Though one human stopped to give advice on making my face look more lifelike.”

  Carson brayed a short laugh. Even Heidi cracked a smile.

  I was awash with concerns, the most prominent of which was how we’d sneak Bub through London without drawing too much attention. But he had helped us time and again whilst here in this world and I was reluctant to just abandon him. If he could blend in under the guise of cosplay, or maybe a film extra or something, and if even the most unwilling of us was up for it by virtue of extending the invitation …

  “Right,” I said. “Home it is then. Right?”

  Carson and Heidi nodded. Bub joined them last; and I mirrored it.

  “Home it is,” I repeated.

  Just, you know … as soon as we found a gate back to London.

  31

  The journey back to my hideout had been … interesting, to say the least. We’d found a gateway back to London maybe four miles from Tortilla and the wall where we cut through. Could’ve taken the tube, probably, but there was the little matter of bringing Bub aboard. I didn’t think he’d fit through the little turnstile things you needed to squeeze through after scanning your Railcard. And supposing we did, all those bony barbs, in close proximity to the other passengers? Yeah, best not try our luck, lest the Metro police department end up nicking us all for making kebabs of other commuters.

  As anticipated, he got a lot of looks. I mean a lot of looks. We’d arrived back around ten, so foot traffic was manic, as was forever the way with London. Fortunately, that foot traffic gave Bub a wide berth. Even more fortunately, no one said or shouted much of anything. If they believed he was a cosplayer—and surely they must; that or something crawled out a movie studio still in fourteen hours’ worth of makeup—they were just intimidated enough by the armor and the teeth and the oversized sword at his waist that they were silenced.

  True to his word, Bub was not too spooked, like the rest of the orcs had been after Carson opened a hole within the Chalice Gloria’s final chamber. Emphasis on “not too spooked”: though I struggled to read orc expressions, there was an antsiness in the way his eyes moved. And whereas Carson had been glued to his side throughout much of our stint in the last world, here Bub remained as close to Carson as his armor would safely allow.

  Cutting a gateway to the hideout had been slightly awkward. Bub wasn’t easy to get to blend in, and just vanishing his massive green frame from the street would be noticed by just about everyone. Still, somehow we did it—and now here we were, back in the hodge-podge of library and living quarters that had become my home, lit by great glass spheres hanging way overhead.

  Bub’s eyes widened upon stepping out. “These are your lodgings?”

  “Sure. I mean, we don’t sleep by the shelves or anything like that. Not usually, anyway,” I amended, with a glance to Carson. He smiled sheepishly back. Of all of us, he’d probably put the most time into scouring these tomes for information on the Tide of Ages, eventually dozing off where he sat at the base of a bookshelf.

  We gave Bub the tour, and fed him for his troubles. I didn’t have a whole lot to hand, as usual, but he chowed down cheerfully enough on a delicacy I’d picked up in an off-license this past week: cold chicken on a stick, like a kebab. Bright orange, smeared with sauce, the manufacturers had done their very best to hide just how cheap the meat was.

  “I’ll get us all something a bit later,” I said. “Something more substantial.”

  “Going to Tortilla?” Heidi asked, a note of glee in her voice.

  “Shut up.”

  “She’s going to Tortilla,” Carson said. “Hottie McHot might not be in today though.”

  “Oh, he is,” said Heidi. “Mira’s worked out his schedule.”

  “Okay, time to shower, see you guys soon,” I said, and walked out before my face could heat enough to set fire to the counters.

  After having been submerged for what felt like half my life, the shower wasn’t as refreshing or rejuvenating as I’d hoped. But it offered me escape, and time for Carson and Heidi to move on from their ribbing.

  Toweling my hair dry, I found them in the lounge. Carson sat sideways in one seat, legs spilling over the side, reclined so his head hung over the other arm. Bub sat on the floor, apparently having decided these seats probably didn’t have the structural integrity needed to support him. And Heidi fiddled with the Tide of Ages.

  Her face was a deep frown.

  I took the last seat.

  Heidi took that as her cue to sigh. “It doesn’t do anything.�
�� She tossed it to me in an easy arc. I caught it one-handed, dropped it onto my legs and continued drying my hair. “We should sell it.”

  “Maybe not. Anyhow, we’ve more spoils than this which we might offload with Benson first. For a start, I nicked this.” And from my pocket I produced Borrick’s newest ring. Its fat, flat top was jet black (I wondered if Borrick even knew you could dress in other colors), and a twisting pattern was imprinted in it, leaking a very soft warmth. I’d compared it to my necklace at length after my shower. The marks weren’t the same.

  “Oh!” Carson straightened. Grabbing his manbag from the floor, he frittered around inside. Elvish rope, he tossed out, plus the rappelling harness—and then he produced a glassy ball. “And I got this.”

  Heidi leaned forward. “Is that the second key?”

  “Yeah.” Carson passed it to her. “Borrick left it.”

  Heidi squinted at him. “Did he leave it, or did you convince him to relinquish it to you?”

  “Well …” Carson began, chest inflating.

  “Mr. Alain dropped it,” Bub chimed in.

  Carson deflated. “Yeah, all right, he dropped it. Or threw it, actually. Surprised it didn’t shatter.”

  “These things are built sturdy,” Heidi said. She looked it over, turning it in her hands, watching the sand twist and spiral in a helix. A touch of melancholy touched her eyes, and though she didn’t say as much, I wondered if she was looking back and realizing that this could have been ours the whole time if she hadn’t been so stubborn.

  “And I snagged this thing.” Carson waved the little ring that had gifted us our short-lived telepathy. Unlike the jet black one I’d made off with, this ring was fairly plain; just a gold band, no frills. “Must be worth a buck. Uh, a pound. Um. Coup?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “We could keep that, though. Might come in handy in future.”

  “Really?” Carson frowned at the ring, looking none too pleased. “I kind of hoped we wouldn’t be delving into each other’s minds again any time soon. Though I suppose at least now I know all the ways my wardrobe choices offend Heidi’s eyes.”