J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“The odds are good I’m gonna end up breaking your fall,” Ben observed.

“Do you want what’s up here or not?” Mira used her free hand to rub off the dust that had caked the shelf’s glass cabinet. It was filled with exactly what Ben predicted: timekeeping devices from a variety of eras—water clocks, hourglasses, pendulums, wrist watches, even an old armillary sphere made of gold, silver, and topaz. Of all the items, it hummed the loudest, and Mira stared at it greedily. She could only imagine what that would do if activated.

“Three minutes, give or take,” Ben announced from below, studying his stopwatch. “You see them?”

She made herself focus. Near the back of the shelf rested six chronographs, complicated kinds of stopwatches that could record individual times for comparison. Of course, Mira only knew that because Ben had told her. It was what he’d brought them this deep into the Strange Lands for: a chronograph of a certain era that had become a major artifact. He had his own theories about what it would do, but the truth was he never intended to use it. It was a bargaining chip, a valuable one. Something he would give Lenore Rowe, the leader of the Gray Devils back at Midnight City, in exchange for what he truly wanted: a fully funded expedition to the Severed Tower.

It would probably work, too, if the artifact did what Ben thought. It was something someone as ambitious as Lenore Rowe would trade anything for.

But they had to get it first.

“What am I looking for again?” Mira asked, gingerly opening the glass cabinet.

“An older one, early twentieth, late nineteenth century. No Seikos or Timexes.”

“What about Gallet?” she asked, studying two of the older looking ones.

“Gallet works,” Ben said. “But it can’t be a wristwatch.”

“One is,” Mira told him, her eyes finding the oldest one. “But the other looks like a pocket watch. An old one.”

“Grab it. Hurry,” Ben instructed her.

No one knew why, but major artifacts didn’t fuse to whatever they were touching like the minor ones did. It was a good thing in time-sensitive situations like this, it meant you didn’t need to use Paste to get them loose. All Mira had to do was reach in and pull the old chronograph out of the shelf—and when she did it vibrated slightly in her hand, which was a good sign. Whatever it did, it was powerful. She smiled and looked down at Ben and saw what she hoped. The barest, most subtle glimpse of excitement in his expression. It wasn’t often you saw it, and Mira relished times like these.

“This the one you want?” she asked, letting it dangle by the silver chain.

“Yes,” Ben said, reaching up.

Mira held it out of his grasp. “You’re sure? ”

“Mira…”

“I’m just checking,” she told him innocently. “We only get one shot at this. Scale of one to ten, how certain are you that, of all the chronographs in this place, this is—”

“ Mira, ” Ben said with intensity. There was a new emotion on his face now. Annoyance. And it was even cuter than the first.

“Okay, here, take the—”

The coat hanger her Lexicon strap hung from broke loose from the old cabinet in a shower of splinters.

Ben rushed forward, valiantly trying to catch Mira, but her momentum was too much. They both went crashing to the floor, Mira on top of him.

When the dust cleared, he stared up at her with the same, dim annoyance. “As predicted…”

She stared back down at him—and then was overcome with laughter. Ben didn’t join in, he rarely laughed, but he did smile, and that was worth just as much. They stared at each other, close, inches away, the chronograph and the Time Shift and the major artifacts all around them forgotten.

Then Mira saw it in his eyes. Something that flickered to life in moments like these, and it stirred the same tension as always. Her smile vanished. She rolled off him and sat up on the floor, dusting herself off.

Ben did the same. He didn’t say anything, but she could still feel his eyes on her, knew what he was thinking.

“Don’t,” she said.

“You never want to talk about it.”

Mira sighed. “Because we’ve already talked about it, Ben. And we agreed.”

“ You agreed,” Ben replied.

She frowned and looked back at him. “We both agreed. And you know it.”

Mira and Ben had been tied together since their trial to become Freebooters. Initially it had been because of the Librarian’s decree, a unique stipulation that neither could enter the Strange Lands without the other. Agreeing to the Librarian’s condition was the only way they could become Freebooters, and they had taken it.

They both knew, however, that even if the requirement was suddenly removed nothing would change. They had a connection now, a stronger one than either had felt for anyone since the invasion, and it had only grown.

They had given into it only once. And as nice as it had been, they both agreed it could never happen again. What was the point, after all? They had three, maybe four years left before the Tone took them. Developing feelings like those made no sense in the world as it was now. It only made the inevitable that much harder to deal with.

But still there were moments—like just now—where Mira wondered how much sense it really made.

When she looked back at him, the old chronograph was clutched in his hand, but his eyes were on her.

Mira sighed. “Ben—”

She cut off as a rumbling grew around them, deep and powerful, but somehow it couldn’t be felt. The items on the shelves or the floor didn’t shake. It was as if the air itself was vibrating. And there was something else. It was growing brighter, too. Steadily.

Mira’s eyes widened. “You said three minutes, give or take!”

“I also said there’s no exact math!” Ben lunged forward and yanked her up, dragging her forward through the store.

Mira tried to balance, to turn forward so she could—

Something occurred to her. Something bad.

“My Lexicon! ” she shouted, turning back around, spotting the big, precious tome on the floor where it had fallen.

“There isn’t time!” Ben kept pushing her forward.

“Wait! You don’t understand!” She squirmed desperately in his grip, trying to get free, but he was just too strong. “ Ben! ”

The rumbling and the brightness continued to grow. Everything around them—the pieces and parts of the old shop, the shelves, the items—flickered like lights, and then one by one began vanishing into thin air… only to be replaced with other pieces and parts that had nothing to do with an antique shop: drill presses, router saws and lathes. The Time Shift was engaging, morphing the local area into a completely different point in time, one that appeared to be when this same building had been a machine shop.

If they didn’t get out now they would be wiped away with the antiques.

Mira felt physical pain as she realized the truth. They had to run. She had to leave the Lexicon, and everything inside it, behind. With a scowl, she turned and ran with Ben toward the front door, as the air continued to rumble and flash, the world morphing around her.

THE DARKNESS RECEDED IN SLOW MOTION as Mira opened her eyes. When she did, she wasn’t where she expected to be. She could hear water rushing by fairly close, and there was a strand of spruce trees towering over her against the wavering aurora that filled the sky.

Mira wasn’t in an antique shop, and she wasn’t where she’d fallen earlier. She was lying on a sleeping bag on the perimeter of a camp, and she could hear voices around her. Ones she recognized. There were about twenty kids, all dressed in some shade of gray and white, some around camp fires, others checking gear or sleeping under the shade from the trees.