The City of Lies

by Robert J. Crane

  Emmanuel fell to his knees.

  No.

  Baldie gave my brother a bored sneer. He kicked out—

  Emmanuel toppled with a grunt.

  “Get off him!” I cried.

  The Order’s leader stepped over, like he might step over litter. Eyeing his dagger’s length, he smiled serenely at the slick coating staining it—drenching those fullers.

  My brother’s blood.

  “My request is a simple one,” he said, walking slowly to me. “Hand over the spear, the cutlass, and the chalice, and you may all leave unharmed. So I will ask you again: hand over the spear—and you will be left.”

  I stared at it in my grip.

  This. Give this over.

  And then I swept the carnage. Heidi had felled several of the Order, as had Burbondrer. But they were being overrun. Carson had tried his best, claiming a cinquedea from somewhere—but as he had no clue as to how to wield it, it fell to Heidi to defend him while staving off her own attackers. Burbondrer hadn’t been able to raise his sword for too long—and I saw with horror streaks of deep purple blood on his armor. The Order had struck him, more than once.

  Would continue to strike unless I did this.

  And then there was Emmanuel. My brother, the person I had hated for so long. He’d taken a blade for me. And now he lay on the throne room’s floor, blood leaking into the rug and staining its gold tassels.

  For me.

  Because of this spear.

  I had to give it up.

  I had to end this.

  “Meer,” Emmanuel wheezed.

  My eyes found his.

  They were tired. Pained.

  Yet determined.

  “You can fight them off,” he said.

  “I …”

  “You can,” he said. “You can do it.” Then: “You’re a Brand, Mira.”

  I’m a Brand.

  I am a Brand.

  I looked up at the Order’s leader—past the patterns sewed into his cloak, past those pale fists, adorned with more rings than any one person had the right to own, let alone wear—and into his grinning face.

  I smiled back.

  “No.”

  And I stabbed the spear deep into his leg.

  He howled—

  His cinquedea fell without aim or intent—

  I ducked away from it.

  “Wretched girl!” he roared. “The spear belongs to the Order!”

  “Not a bloody chance!”

  I stabbed out again, for the other leg—

  He screamed—

  “Hey, you wanted the spear. Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  Face manic, he tightened his hold on the cinquedea, and swung again—

  Burbondrer barrelled sideways. Taking the clutching Order men with him, he slammed hard into their leader’s side, sending him off-balance—

  “Easy!” Emmanuel wheezed, ducking.

  Energy renewed, Burbondrer grabbed two of the Order clinging to him by their cloaks. He roared, flinging them across the room—

  “Push them back!” I yelled.

  Energy like I’d never felt before flooded my veins. Gripping Decidian’s Spear tight, a snarl on my mouth, I jabbed at the Order’s leader. Just rising from Burbondrer’s impact, he had just a fraction of a second to react, throwing himself backward.

  “Leave us alone!” I shouted.

  “FOR OCKLATOJSH!!”

  One of the tossed Apdau agents was rushing Burbondrer again. Another flew his way, bowling him over—

  His sword arm was freed again.

  He swiped the last clinger-on aside. He hurtled past me, sailing through the gap between me and John Locke—

  Then the cinquedea was swinging for me again.

  I lifted Decidian’s Spear.

  Metal screeched on metal.

  He shoved forward, cutting through the air toward my head—

  I ducked, and stabbed out for his leg.

  He dodged—

  But I pushed, coming in low as he righted the blade again. Spear horizontal between us, I slammed it hard into his midriff—

  “Mira!”

  The cinquedea ploughed down, missing me by scant inches.

  I gasped, caught off-guard.

  The Order’s leader saw his opportunity and slammed his body against mine.

  I stumbled back—and there was Emmanuel’s leg, my feet tangled—

  A dark smear flew through the air—

  “ARGHHHHH!!” Carson belted, slamming his manbag right into Baldie’s face.

  He barely flinched, but it gave me time enough to find my feet, to reposition, to jab out again for him, aiming this time directly for his midriff—

  The cinquedea blocked the blow.

  “Such insolence,” he breathed, grabbing out, hand tightening on the shoulder of Carson’s sweater—

  “Hands OFF!” Heidi roared—and from nowhere she exploded like a cannonball, Feruiduin’s Cutlass swinging.

  The Order’s leader retracted his hand a split second before Heidi sliced it clean off.

  She swung again—then three of the Order were launching at her, and she spun to deflect—

  A fourth hurtled for Burbondrer. He raised the sword, slamming the handle hard into the cloaked man’s head, sending him back—

  “Thanks,” I said to Carson—and then I was swinging Decidian’s Spear at the Order’s leader again.

  He staggered away—

  We were pushing back. The throne room was shortening—and this time they were on the stubby side of it.

  One of the Order barreled out of nowhere for Carson, cinquedea raised overhead—

  “Not Carson!” Burbondrer boomed and displaced the Apdau agent with a fist to the head.

  I met another blow from the Order’s leader, rearranging my feet to come at him again—

  How many were left? I tried to count—there had been a dozen earlier, I was certain—but the room was a blur. Heidi was engaged with two, Burbondrer was battling off another pair, and even ignoring the ones Heidi, Burbondrer and Emmanuel had felled, others still lingered, batted aside by the orc but preparing to rush forward again—

  We needed to get rid of them all at once.

  Like in Hyde Park.

  “Carson,” I breathed.

  “Mira?”

  “My compass. I need you to take it.”

  “Erm—how—?”

  “Just grab it! I need to know what’s on it!”

  He snatched for it as I swung—missed—

  “But why?”

  “Voids!” I shouted back—and he got it.

  Another swing from the Order’s leader—I met it with a metal scream—

  “Now!” I shouted at Carson.

  His hand shot out—

  My belt tightened against me on the opposite side as he pulled—and then the compass was free, in his hand.

  The cinquedea swung again, low. I dodged, bringing Decidian’s Spear down to meet it. It glanced off, sending a powerful jolt into my shoulder—

  “Where is it?” I wheezed.

  “We’re right on the edge,” Carson said.

  Just a little more!

  “Foolish girl,” said the Order’s leader. “You cannot hope to outwit the Order of Apdau.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Done it several times already, thanks. I’ll do it again.” And squeezing tight on the spear’s haft, I thrust forward—

  Baldie backtracked—

  “A little more!” Carson cried.

  The Order’s leader lifted the cinquedea again—

  I parried and stabbed again—

  He met it—then I drew back and stabbed hard for his hip, quick—

  He jerked backward—

  “We’re over!” cried Carson.

  This was it. Time to banish the Order once and for all!

  “Get clear!” I warned the others, twisting to check for Heidi and Burbondrer’s place—

  “Mira!” Emmanuel roared.

  I twisted—

&
nbsp; The Order’s leader had understood the same thing I had: this was now or never. He hurtled toward me, cinquedea high overhead, sailing down—

  I yelped, thrusting Decidian’s Spear horizontally between us—

  The blade slammed hard into the haft.

  This time I was certain it would snap, because it gave an almighty creak—

  “Carson!” I shouted. “Open a gateway!”

  “On it!”

  Clutching his ring, he swiped—

  A terrifying maw the full width of the room split open to reveal nothing but mist—

  And swallowed the Order’s remaining agents.

  Burbondrer rumbled again, swiping out at the men grabbing for him. Their hands thrust out, cinquedeas loosed before they too vanished—

  Only Baldie left now.

  He glanced behind—and now fear truly split his features.

  I smirked back grimly from beneath his cinquedea buried in Decidian’s Spear—from beneath rings etched in all manner of patterns.

  Patterns I recognized.

  “I know what your rings are for now,” I said, understanding. “They’re for going between places, aren’t they? Can’t have just one homeworld for your own, so why not take advantage of ten? That’s how you freaks get around, isn’t it? You’ve pilfered as many talismans as you can wear, and now you’re stalking me and my friends.”

  His eyebrows twitched. “You are wrong.”

  “No, I don’t think I am. Well, now it’s time to call a new place your home—forever.” My smile widened, dark and cruel. “Enjoy the void, dick.”

  And I ducked—

  Just as Burbondrer swung a fist.

  The Order’s leader careened backward with a shriek—

  And he too was swallowed by Carson’s violent gate, just a moment before the maw collapsed.

  28

  Burbondrer rushed to Emmanuel’s side, Carson with him—and me.

  “I’m okay,” he croaked. “Just a flesh wound.”

  “Good reference,” said Carson. “But that dagger went right through your shoulder.” He looked queasily down. Emmanuel’s shirt was rapidly darkening with blood. The spot over the shoulder was darkest of all, red so deep that it was impossible to make out the checked pattern there. Fortunately (for Carson’s sake), it was also was thick enough to obscure the wound despite the shirt having torn open.

  “This?” Emmanuel looked at it. He had a faint look about him. “Nah. Hardly a scratch.”

  “This isn’t the time for being a hero,” I said. “You’re hurt. Bad.”

  His gaze came to mine, wary—shocked, I think, that I had said anything.

  That I sounded like I cared.

  Burbondrer knelt and began to gently remove Emmanuel’s shirt.

  “Hey,” Emmanuel said. “At least buy me a drink first.”

  “I trained as a combat medic,” said Burbondrer. “I can fix you.”

  “Is that true?” Emmanuel asked the room.

  “I can fix you,” said Burbondrer.

  Emmanuel didn’t look completely satisfied, especially considering none of the rest of us had been able to confirm the claim. But he let the orc widen the hole in his shirt—

  “Ugh.” Carson turned away, his face suddenly deathly pale.

  “I can sew you closed,” Burbondrer rumbled. “Does anyone have something clean to soak the blood up with?”

  “The rug,” said Heidi.

  “No, it’s okay.” Tossing his manbag aside, Carson took great pains not to turn back toward Emmanuel, who was lying in what looked like a great deal of blood. He removed his sweater, and tossed it to Burbondrer. The shirt underneath had come untucked. He shoved it back in, frowning.

  Burbondrer balled up the sweater and wiped away as much blood as he could.

  Emmanuel took it in silence. Still, the discomfort was plain on his face.

  I hissed when the wound came properly into view.

  My turn to pivot away.

  “It’s okay, sis,” Emmanuel said.

  I swallowed, closing my eyes. No, it wasn’t. And he’d taken that for me.

  “I’m going to stitch this up,” said Burbondrer. “You’ll have to have it looked at to assess the damage underneath, but it’ll stop the bleeding.”

  “Do your thing. You, uh, you do have antiseptic, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Burbondrer rustled, and I glanced back to see him fish a roll of cloth off the side of his armor. It sat under and just behind where the sword was stowed at his waist, so its appearance surprised me. I’d obviously missed that—but then, when Burbondrer got swinging, my mind was generally elsewhere anyway.

  Burbondrer unfolded it, and removed a bottle of what I assumed was alcohol, or the orc equivalent. Then he plucked out a coil of wire and a bent needle that looked almost comically small in his hands.

  He disinfected his hands, the needle and wire, then poured it over Emmanuel’s shoulder—

  “Gaghh!” Emmanuel gasped, hitting quite an interesting note.

  “Sorry,” said Burbondrer.

  A noise from Emmanuel’s throat was his only answer.

  “I’m going to stitch the front first. Are you ready?”

  Emmanuel hesitated. He glanced between us—and then decided now was not the time to save face after all. “Do you have any anesthetic? Local? Like a cream or anything?”

  Burbondrer shook his head. “Nothing to numb, no.”

  “Of course not. Orcs can take it. And so can I. So can I.” Emmanuel sucked in a deep breath. “All right, go on. Sew me up, Doc.”

  Burbondrer began … and I turned away as Emmanuel loosed a throaty groan. Carson made a queasy sort of noise and evacuated himself to the thrones.

  Heidi took up the task of distracting me. “So, the Order again. Fancy seeing them here. You reckon that was why the guard detail was absent?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Except for out in the Felldawn, they’re hardly inconspicuous, are they?”

  “Wonder how many more they brought up here.”

  “Who knows. Doesn’t really matter now, does it? They’re not coming back through.”

  “Mm,” said Heidi.

  It wasn’t quite agreement, and I knew that. Emmanuel’s story about the fractured worlds came back to echo in my head. Those places appeared to be voids on looking glasses like my compass. Wouldn’t it be just our luck that one of those fractured worlds existed on the other side of this room?

  Wherever they’d gone—to a realm of non-existence, or banished entirely to a world where they would be dogged by danger the moment they fell through—the Order of Apdau were no longer a threat.

  For now.

  “Why do you think they want our weapons?” Heidi asked. Feruiduin’s Cutlass still in hand, she ran an eye over the onyx blade, slick with blood. “And the Chalice. What’s up with that?”

  I shook my head. “Couldn’t tell you.”

  “Hmm.” Heidi thought a moment. “I’m grasping at straws, and I can feel it, but … you don’t think it has anything to do with Ostiagard’s treasure, do you?”

  “I don’t see why it would.”

  “No,” she said. “Shame there really is no treasure.”

  I opened my mouth to agree—and then stopped.

  My eyebrows drew low.

  The tickle in the back of my mind came back.

  Rings. All those rings.

  “Actually,” I said slowly. “I think there might be. I think.”

  “What?”

  I turned. “Emmanuel. You’ve got more than your ring talisman, right? You have an Ostiagard one.”

  “I do,” he said slowly, a little guarded. “They’re really rare, though.”

  “Can I borrow it?”

  I liked how he didn’t hesitate, in spite of the professed rarity. He pushed Burbondrer’s oversized fist away, and tilted in an awkward roll. Sinking his good hand into a pocket, he fished and removed a bright green charm, sans bracelet. He flicked it toward me. Thicker along o
ne length than the other, it spun end over end.

  I caught it.

  This one had patterns too. But they weren’t like the ones on human talismans, fine and curving. The etchings were thicker on this stone, deeper, and jagged.

  I removed the compass from my belt, and, hoping this would work, touch the talisman to its face.

  The compass shimmered. A gentle hum sounded, rising and falling over two seconds.

  Before, we’d been standing over a void. Now, the compass directed us what looked like a temple, all arches and pillars and polished white stone. Vines snaked throughout; this place was nestled in a jungle, I thought, like the Mirrish capital.

  “What are you doing?” Emmanuel asked.

  Carson’s interest was piqued too. “Mira?” A daringly hopeful expression was on his face.

  I strode to the base of the dais, watching the compass.

  It hit a boundary, then changed—

  “Jackpot.”

  “What?” Carson rushed around—and so did Heidi, one on each side.

  The compass showed what looked like a treasury room—and, much like the illustration that had first drawn Carson to the hunt for Ostiagard’s treasure, it was piled with stacks and stacks of silver, gold, and platinum bars.

  “No way!”

  Carson snatched the ring from my hand before I could stop him. He swiped a line—and the tear opened again, shuddering open around our feet—

  And there it was, laid out below us.

  “No way!!” He looked like an eight-year-old on his birthday, opening a present only to discover it’s actually the Xbox he’d been hoping for all year—and then he leapt through.

  “You found it?” Emmanuel called from around Burbondrer.

  “Found it,” I confirmed. “Quick!” And I leapt through, following just behind Heidi.

  The treasure room was ridiculous. The illustration in that first book had done a fair job of representing it—but the scale was something else. Ingots were stacked in great squares, rows that seemed miles deep of precious metals, pure and shiny … and they went on and on and on …

  Carson whooped a wild laugh.

  “We did it!” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “We found it!!”

  I grinned. “You found it.”

  “We—I.” He stopped, it dawning on him.

  Burbondrer and Emmanuel landed behind us.

  “Ouch,” Emmanuel groaned. Then: “No way.”

  “I found it,” Carson whispered. “I … I actually found it. Me.”