“Charming friend you’ve made, Meer.”
I grimaced. “Not the first, believe me.”
“Um,” said Carson. “Does that mean …?”
“Not you,” I said. “You’re all good. Lovely, even.”
“My heart melts,” said Heidi. “So are we doing this or not?”
“We don’t even know what her plan is yet,” said Emmanuel.
“What can I say? I’ve come to accept running into things half-blind.”
I ignored them, refocusing on Clay. “So, where is the cut-through?”
He got a nervous look about him, and I realized before he even said it that this was not going to be remotely easy.
“Well …”
*
“Harsterra cannot be connected to the lift in a bloody LEGO shop,” I grumbled.
“I love LEGOs!” said Carson.
We were on the way to the aforementioned plastic brick store at Leicester Square. I’d been past it just a handful of times, but every single one of them, the place was heaving. Luckily I’d managed to stave off Carson’s requests to step inside—the LEGO Big Ben statue by the door was an American geek’s ultimate dream, I expected—but today, at last, he would finally get his wish.
Which explained why he was walking fastest now we were off the tube.
“Slow down,” Heidi complained. “Why does the thought of children’s toys make you so full of energy?”
“They’re not just for kids,” Carson said. “Have you seen the Creator buildings? They’re huge, with like two thousand pieces! And the Star Wars ones—there’s a Rey model I’d like, and Kylo Ren—”
“I am going to die,” Heidi said. “I am going to fall into the center of a gas giant, and the last thing I will have experienced is you prattling on about plastic. No, not just plastic: plastic models of spaceships.”
“But the new Star Wars movies—”
“Please shut up.”
“You’re not going to die in a gas giant,” I said. “None of you are coming in with me.”
“Which makes you almost as stupid as the man who wants to spend £300 on a Millenium Falcon to look at.”
“Can I?” Carson asked, a little breathless.
“Sure. And then you can buy enough tubs of LEGO to make a brick girlfriend, because that is as close as you will ever get to one at this rate.”
Carson went red and shut up.
I figured I’d throw him a bone. “I don’t care if you buy the whole shop out while we’re in there. Just as long as you open this gate for me—”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Yep. You’re the only one whose gates will give us a look through to the other side in real time.”
Heidi’s barbs forgotten, Carson practically vibrated with excitement. “Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.”
“You’re going to carve a hole in Leicester Square and take out half the street,” said Heidi. “You realize that, don’t you?”
“Give my buddy a break,” said Emmanuel. “He can do it.”
“I can,” Carson said resolutely, looking uncharacteristically confident.
The LEGO shop was on the left, not too far a walk at all from the station. By now it was close to dark, even having set off as quickly as we had. Luckily it wasn’t a problem, because LEGO offered access to a nerd’s fix right up until ten PM—ridiculous, I thought. Judging by the disdain on her face as we walked in, Heidi felt similarly.
But that was far from the worst of it, because barely a step into the door, Carson cried,
“They offer hotel delivery! How awesome is that?”
“What a terrible shame we don’t live in a hotel,” Heidi said. “We could be drowning in this junk otherwise.”
Carson was like a kid in—well, a toy store. Eyes wide, he didn’t know where to look first: the display stands with pre-constructed models; the massive Big Ben, plus a minifigure nearly as tall as me wearing a suit and bowler hat; two LEGO men sitting on an open tube train adorning the left wall, the empty seat between them occupied by a pair of kids having their photo taken by their grandparents.
The lift was on the right—and it was a tight little thing, rather resembling a sardine can up on one end.
“Not a lot of room to maneuver,” I said to Clay.
“Now you know why I told your orc friend to sit this one out.”
“Mm.” I didn’t like to imagine him trying to squeeze into those narrow confines.
“You’ll have to go in by yourselves,” Clay said to me and Carson—who, to his credit, did his best upon being addressed to rein his excitement in and pay attention to the matter at hand.
“I’m going too,” said Heidi.
“No,” I said firmly. “You’re not coming in.”
“Why not?”
“One, because Carson and I will barely have room to breathe in that little thing. And two, because I’m doing this alone, like I told you back at base.”
“If you’re worried about sharing any of the glory, I told you, I don’t care about that. I just don’t want you to get your head sliced off by one of the Village People.”
“The Village People didn’t have a pirate,” said Emmanuel.
“Fine. Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. Whatever.” To me: “I want to come.”
“And I don’t want you to. This is reckless enough as it is without endangering you too.”
“Well, now I feel stupid for letting you go,” said Emmanuel.
“You know what this world brings us,” I replied. “Danger, ‘round every corner. Any of us could die at any time.”
“You’re not making this any easier, Meer.”
“You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”
A member of staff approached, a young black girl. “Can I help you?” She was cheerful, not overbearing, though she’d have reason to be: our quintet was loitering near the door, blocking both displays and people on their way in and out.
Carson said, “Where’s the—?”
“We’re just looking, thanks,” said Emmanuel, grinning.
The girl eyed him back. A flustered smile lifted her face, and she momentarily cast her eyes away, brushing back hair that had not fallen out of place.
“Okay. Well, if you need anything, I’ll just be … over there.” She hooked a thumb behind her, still grinning away at Emmanuel. “I’m, ah, Marnie.” She tapped her nametag—missed it. “Uh. There.”
“Nice to meet you, Marnie. We’ll be right over if we need something, I can assure you.”
“Great.” She grinned. Again: “Great.” And she walked backward a few steps, swinging her arms, looking exactly like someone right out of a rom-com who’d been struck through the heart with Cupid’s arrow, before turning away and wandering off in a bit of a daze.
“That was sickening,” said Heidi.
“How do you do that?” Carson breathed.
“Scoring Hotties 101 can wait,” I said. “Clay, what are we doing here?”
“Right.” Clay nodded to himself. “Harsterra connects to this building on the right-hand wall of the lift—left if you’re facing out of it. It’s between halfway and three-quarters of the way to the top, but the connection drops just before the lift stops—so you’ll need to move quickly, or at least make sure you’re not ducking your head out when your gateway closes.”
“Couldn’t you hit the emergency stop button?” Carson asked.
“It’ll buy you time,” Clay said, “but also alert the staff.”
“Ooh,” said Heidi. “Maybe they’ll send some big, strong firefighters to get you out safely.”
“Forget the emergency stop button then,” I said.
Clay nodded. “Probably for the best.” I couldn’t tell whether he agreed because it was sound thinking or because he didn’t want me being rescued by strong firefighters.
Either way, fantastic. A bit of extra stress on top of an already challenging feat.
“Got it,” I said. “Ready for this, Carson?”
&n
bsp; “I’m ready,” he said, his voice steely.
“Good. All right then, guys. I’ll see you shortly.”
“If it goes well,” Heidi tacked on.
“It’ll go well,” I promised.
Emmanuel clapped me on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, Meer. I believe in you.”
“Thanks, bro. Carson? I believe this is yours.” And I fished out the ring talisman he had pilfered from Borrick many months ago. Flat-topped, it was etched with intricate patterns the likes of which were carved into my own talisman, and Heidi’s.
Carson took it gingerly. His eyes danced, this room full of LEGO forgotten for the moment. Holding it between thumb and forefinger, he regarded its bronze metal for a long second, like some great prize he had been waiting for all his life … and then he slipped it onto his index finger, looking at it with wide eyes.
“You sure you can do this?” I said.
“Definitely.” He was almost vibrating again. “Let’s go.”
I keyed the button to call the elevator—
It was already there, and the doors slid open to grant us entry. Good, because it meant no additional time for my nerves to jangle. And bad—because I kind of wanted time for my nerves to jangle. Prep time, you know?
We stepped inside. Turning round and bracing, I set my face firmly for my friends, to show that yes, I definitely knew what I was doing, and no, I was not in any way scared of the possibility of falling into a gas giant and getting crushed into a tiny little Mira-diamond in its ultra-hot core.
I don’t think I sold it, looking at them—but by then Carson had thumbed the UP button, and the doors were closing.
“This wall?” Carson said, tapping the one left of me.
“That is the one Clay said, yep.”
“When should I open the gate?”
“Maybe we should see how long the journey—oh.”
The doors pinged open, lifted already stopped. They opened out to view the checkout area upstairs, a back-and-forth area cordoned off and littered with small purchases to entice shoppers at the last minute, the way supermarket checkouts were loaded up with Tic Tacs and Boosts and increasing numbers of “healthy”-ish Graze boxes.
“It’s quick,” said Carson.
“Let’s try again.”
Down we went. I was aware of maybe looking like a bit of a fool to anyone who saw us—the cashiers, most likely, being as they were all facing directly at us—but alas, such was the life of a Seeker.
I timed the downward trip. Just twelve seconds—nothing at all.
“Any luck?” asked Emmanuel cheerily as the doors opened downstairs.
“Not yet,” I said, and let the doors shut as we were carried up again.
When I’d counted to four, I said, “Cut now.”
Carson gripped the ring and sliced a hand through the air alongside the lift wall.
It split open instantly, the gateway almost as wide and tall as it could be without bleeding over the surface’s edge—and what we saw beyond was a hellscape. The sky, dark and bruised, churned in every direction. It was darkest straight ahead, clouds thick and spiraling in a vortex that would suck me in and fling me into the depths of the planet.
I stared in horror for three seconds—then it vanished, and the gate was forced shut.
The doors opened, giving the upstairs shoppers and staff a view of a brown-skinned young woman and a lanky nerd with a manbag looking utterly terrified.
Carson cleared his throat. “Geez.”
You could say that again. Pressing the DOWN button nervously, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Let’s try this again. Open it on three.”
I counted him in—
Harterra opened before us.
I squinted into the sky, searching, but—
“Where’s the Velocity?” I wondered as the gate closed again.
“We’re opening on something,” Carson said. “Otherwise the gate wouldn’t have anything to stick to. Right?”
The doors opened. Heidi, Emmanuel, and Clay all stood and watched.
“Hi,” I said. “Bye,” I said when the doors closed and we were on the way up again.
The third time the gate opened, I knew, with a sickening twist of my stomach, that I only had one way to know if we were safe—and that was by sticking my head out.
I took a breath, and shoved it through the gap—
“Mira!” Carson shouted, but somehow he sounded like he was calling from half a mile away—
I twisted around, looking up—
The gateway had opened on the bottom of an airship. A streak of dark steel, it curved away to the left and right of me, extending much farther front and back. Hints of its shape above were visible if I squinted—it really was a behemoth of a thing—but I barely dared glance at the thing. I shunted backward, drawing myself back in. Half a second later, the gateway sputtered out.
“That was crazy, Mira,” Carson breathed. “I was about to grab you.”
“Only way of checking if that was the Velocity or not.”
“And was it?”
“Couldn’t tell.”
We were on the first floor again. If we hadn’t had funny looks before, we were getting them now. The lift was up and down like a yo-yo, and we surely looked like a pair of mental patients who knew how to climb into an elevator but not how to actually extract ourselves from the damned thing again.
I slammed a palm against the DOWN button, and off we went.
“Open it now,” I commanded.
Carson obliged—
I stuck my head out, quick, craning around for—
There.
I ducked in again. “I think that’s the Velocity.”
“How can you tell?”
“He got the name written on the side. I saw the V.”
The doors opened downstairs again. How many times had we been up and down now?
Heidi & Co. still loitered … as did Marnie. She was hovering nearby, probably waiting for Emmanuel to snap his fingers and ask for some assistance. On seeing the lift doors open yet again, she cocked her head at us, began coming our way. “Are you having a little trouble there?”
“No, we’re good,” I said. “Just indecisive! So much to choose from!” I hammered the UP button behind my back, hoping the doors would hurry and close.
They did.
Okay. Deep breath.
“This one’s it,” I said Carson.
“You’re going?”
“Yeah—open it.”
He obeyed, swiping, his hand a little shaky this time—
The gateway to Harsterra split apart, revealing that swirling vortex again—a vortex I realized now was in a cloud layer buried deeper within the planet—
I took a steadying breath, and threw myself over the gap. I twisted on one toe on the way through, spinning to get a look at Carson, eyes wide with terror—
He receded, the gateway with it—and then it vanished, leaving just black hull that I fell away from—
One shot at this. It was all I had.
I snapped my newest, most faithful companion from my belt—the line launcher. Aiming, I depressed the trigger—
An arrow on the reel of elvish rope burst through the air toward the Velocity’s hull—
I prayed, eyes closed, hand tight—because if this went to plan and my momentum was arrested, it would happen hard and fast, and anything but an iron grip would see me lose hold of the line launcher and fall to my death anyway.
The arrow soared, a streak of silver behind it, outpacing my fall—
And then it forked, jerking around to the right—
A bolt of panic ripped through me.
It hadn’t found anything—
And then it swung around and around exposed piping, knotting tight.
I stopped hard—
“OH GOD—”
The force of it bounced me. The line launcher slipped in my grip—but somehow I held firm, and for a terrifying moment I hung, a tiny ant on the end of a thread below
the hulking beast of machinery that was the Velocity, amidst a swirling planet of ceaseless storms.
“Up,” I whispered, hoarse. Then I remembered—the line launcher didn’t take spoken instruction. This excursion had half-addled my brain. I thumbed the button on the line launcher’s side, and the line began to reel in.
I hung tight, the Velocity’s underside coming closer—
Then I was right below it, dangling.
Heart hammering in my chest, I gave myself ten seconds to catch my breath and calm down.
Those ten seconds were not very calming. For one: my feet were not on solid ground. Gripping the line launcher, the only thing keeping me rooted to anything firm was my hold. If I should slip, I’d fall into the gas giant, compressed under immense pressure until the speck that remained of me was joined with the diamond core.
All around, the cloud layers swirled Saturnian orange-brown, churning like the tumultuous clouds of Jupiter. (Geez, who was the geek now?) The wind blew without pause, hard but not so fierce as to threaten to dislodge me. It carried a smell like window cleaner with it, fortunately not strong enough to make my eyes water.
Okay. Sightseeing over.
Where to now?
I tracked the airship’s hull. Protrusions ran all the way across it, forming a ladder up its sides. Not one that I could have clambered with hand and foot—the spacing was much too great—but with the line launcher, those gaps were effectively zero. Bracing, I fired again, and again, zipping along the bottom of the ship to an edge, and then up, up, past reinforced windows out to the storms, railings that provided maintenance access, thin little walkways with little more than a single steel bar keeping some unlucky soul from falling to their death—higher and higher I went, shot after shot, past the vastly oversized (and tacky, honestly) word VELOCITY stenciled on the side in gold.
And then the deck was in sight.
Chatter came with it, above the winds.
“… readying our second assault force …”
That was Barnes, I thought.
A moment later, from Burnton: “I don’t like to call them that. I prefer ‘Expeditionary Force of Justice, Excellence and …” The gusts whipped the last of his conversation away from me.
But I did hear—
“What in the blazes?”
I’d fired one last shot with the line launcher, the arrow snaking around the deck railing. Before anyone could run across and untangle it, I pressed to ascend, and zipped up—
The King of the Skies Page 16