Bridge Beyond Her World

by Brandon Barr

  A loud crack sounded as what looked like lightning shot from the weapon. The white-hot light struck the man, a hundred blinding tongues of flame licking around his torso and head. A moment later, the man fell to the ground, his hair burning brightly for a few seconds.

  Silence descended upon the room.

  The reek of burning flesh was horrendous. Wisps of smoke wafted from the man’s gaping mouth. His rigid face was frozen on the verge of a scream stolen by death.

  The three men at the table stared at Karience in stunned surprise.

  Karience looked as if she were about to collapse, her face pale, her breaths short and shaky.

  Finally, one of the men spoke. “I’m security officer 3951. Please put the weapon down.” The man stood slowly, hands calmly raised, trying to reassure her. He wore the uniform of a security officer. It was the same uniform as the men had worn at the security checkpoints. The other two were dressed the same.

  Karience nodded and started to put the weapon on the floor.

  “Don’t listen to him!” said Winter sharply. “Keep it in your hands.”

  Karience shot her a confused look. “It’s okay. He’s a security officer, Winter. We can trust him.”

  “No, we can’t If you give him the gun, he’ll kill us.”

  One of the other men stood slowly. “We are not going to harm you. That man was chasing you. You are justified by our laws to use self-defense. Just put the weapon down before anyone else gets hurt.”

  Karience looked at Winter, who shook her head. “If he tries to take it from you, use it on him.”

  “Do not threaten us,” said the first man, turning toward Winter and giving her a dark look. “We’re here to help you.” He looked at Karience. “I see by your sigil you are an Empyrean. Why are you letting this Emissary give you orders?”

  Karience appeared at a loss for words. She looked from the man to Winter and back again, her expression confused.

  The man took a step forward and held out his hand. “Please, you’re safe now. Just be reasonable.”

  “I can’t,” said Karience finally. “I have to listen to her.”

  The man took another step. “You are threatening a security officer. This could get you stripped of your rank and arrested.”

  Winter was watching the man move closer and closer to Karience and didn’t notice the second man moving toward her until it was almost too late. He grabbed for her, and Winter screamed. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her. One arm was pinned, but the other was still free. She clawed at his face, but he turned his face away, and his grip on her didn’t loosen. From across the room came the sound of a struggle, as Karience fought with the first man for the weapon.

  “Kill her! Kill the Oracle!” shouted Karience’s attacker.

  Suddenly, the man holding Winter changed his grip, letting go of her torso and wrapping his hands around her neck. Winter fought wildly, but her strength was nothing compared to his, and she couldn’t break free. His fingers dug into her windpipe, cutting off her air. She clutched weakly at his arms, knowing she didn’t have long to live.

  Distantly, she heard the sound of the weapon firing once again, followed by a sickening, hollow scream. The hands around her throat slackened as the attacker turned his head to see what had happened to his partner.

  That gave Winter the opening she needed. She sucked in a choking breath and kneed him as hard as she could in the crotch. He gasped in pain, let go of her throat, and staggered backwards. A second later, electricity raked through his body. She was close enough to feel the energy from the blast, every hair standing on end. The man writhed and shook unnaturally, his proximity making the gruesome spectacle all the more horrific. Finally, his mouth opened to scream, but only smoke came out.

  The body collapsed to the floor, small flames licking through the eye sockets.

  Winter turned away from the revolting image and saw the third man standing there, the weapon now in his hands. Karience stood beside him, a trickle of blood running from her nose.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  A flood of tears filled Winter’s eyes. She could still feel the man’s hands around her neck and knew how close she’d been to death.

  _____

  KARIENCE

  Karience and Winter followed the third man—who had introduced himself as Dicameron—onto the platform. They were followed by five armed security personnel, whose eyes alertly scanned their surroundings for further threats. The platform accelerated, taking them away from the scene of horror.

  Despite the security all around them, Karience did not feel safe. Her mind was still reeling from what had happened. Had she really killed a man? She could still see his contorted face, the look of horror in his eyes.

  She and Winter clung tightly to each other. Karience drew strength from Winter’s touch; a powerful connection bound them now. Strangely, Karience felt almost like a mother holding her daughter. She was thankful Winter’s tears had stopped. It had been hard enough holding back her own, but she knew she had to be strong.

  Her mind returned to the incident. She didn’t understand what had happened. Those men had wanted to kill Winter because she was an Oracle, but why? And here on Bridge—of all places—the hub of the Guardian’s power.

  “Who were those men?” Karience asked Dicameron.

  He looked over at her. “I believe they were members of the Execrata, an extremist sect that hides within a larger movement called Humanity Kind.”

  “I’ve never heard of them. What do they have against Oracles?”

  “They see the Oracles as emissaries of the Makers. At least, that’s how I understand it. The Execrata are extremists, zealots who will not hesitate to use violence to—as they say in their pledge—purge the excrement from humanity.”

  Karience found it disturbing that she had never heard of either of these groups. The Guardians, in her mind, were a beacon illuminating the Silver Hand Galaxy. Pure of heart, self-sacrificing in their endeavor to bring peace to every world they could. How could this Execrata sect exist within such a noble group as the Guardians?

  The bright light of her order had dimmed today.

  “What is the goal of the Humanity Kind movement?”

  “Their goals?” Dicameron shrugged. “Worthy enough, I think. They want to progress humanity to its highest potential. Their three tenets are: immortality, morality, meaning. They have an impressive following amongst the scientists and philosophers. They want to rid the cosmos of the Makers and the Beasts so that humanity can reach this potential without hindrance. I don’t know if I agree with them, but at least their tools are philosophy and education, unlike the Execrata, who know only violence.”

  “Is this movement confined to Bridge?”

  “No,” said Dicameron “It’s spread all over the place. At least, to the upworlds. Humanity Kind is very good at spreading their ideals. Fervent preachers, all of them.”

  “You seem to disapprove,” said Winter. “Do you believe in the Makers?”

  Karience squeezed Winter’s shoulder gently, glad to hear her voice. She’d been so quiet since the attack.

  “I don’t think much upon these matters, to be honest. Their concerns about the gods seem legitimate, but it’s their zeal I dislike. They carry an air of certainty about them that I find distasteful and…potentially dangerous. As you saw today. Hiding amongst the good and decent adherents of the Mankies are the Execrata.”

  “What are Mankies?” questioned Karience.

  “A nickname for the vocal members of Humanity Kind.” Dicameron paused and gave her a stern look. “Beliefs held with too certainty lead to radical actions, in my experience.”

  “I don’t think that’s always a bad thing,” said Winter. “It depends on what you’re being radical about. What you believe.”

  “An Oracle, an Emissary, and a philosopher,” said Dicameron with a grin. “Remind me again, what world are you an Empyrean on, Karience?”

  “Loam.”


  “That’s right. Your domicile is just ahead. Are you sure you still want to meet with the Consecrators today?”

  Karience looked at Winter. “It’s your choice. A day of rest might be best.”

  “No,” said Winter. “I’d rather meet with them and then go home. I don’t want to spend any more time here than I have to.”

  To her surprise, Karience felt a measurable relief. Loam. She wanted to return home as well.

  “Tell the Consecrators we will come after we bathe and dress. And we are expecting four more to join us. Would you see that they make it safely from the security checkpoint?”

  Dicameron stopped before a lit door in the darkened tunnel and extended his arm for them to enter. “Already done. All Loamians, and all Guardians assigned to Loam, are to be escorted by security. Now, please, get some rest.”

  Karience entered the small domicile, which consisted of four rooms. She rarely came here, but it was nice seeing the familiar furniture. And there was Nikos, who they found waiting for them, wearing a surprised expression.

  “Nikos, let me introduce you to Winter, our new Emissary on Loam.”

  “Good to meet you,” said Winter.

  “Hello,” said Nikos with a bow. As usual, thought Karience, his words were akin to his stature. Very little.

  “Nikos is from Loam. He is a permanent Emissary here on Bridge. Any who need to travel to Loam can come to Bridge and Nikos accompanies them through the portal.”

  Nikos sniffed the air. “What’s that smell? And why are there five security men standing outside our doorway?” His high voice made him sound almost annoyed.

  “Some men tried to kill us,” said Winter. “But the Makers helped us escape.”

  Nikos was silent. Only, it was a different kind of silence than the uninterested quiet that normally kept his tongue at rest. This, thought Karience, was genuine bewilderment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  AVEN

  The entrance to the strange cave-like room was blocked off by uniformed security when Aven and Arentiss arrived at the Loam domicile with their security escort, making Aven even more nervous than he already was. Inside were his sister, Karience, Pike, Zoecara, and a short man Aven didn’t recognize. Karience was talking, and it was clear from the expressions of the others that something bad had happened. Once past security, Aven went straight to Winter and pulled her aside.

  “What happened?” he whispered to her. There was a strange mix of fear and elation on his sister’s face. He felt certain she’d had another vision, and it had led her through some danger. “Did someone attack you?” On her hand, he tapped, You had another vision.

  Winter gave him a soothing smile. Yes. But don’t worry. The Makers protected me. Then she gave him a brief rundown of the event.

  By the end, Aven was staring at her in horror. He glanced at the carved opening where the security forces stood and shook his head. “How can you be so calm?” he asked in a low voice. “So confident about your safety?”

  “Because I trust the Makers,” she said. She put her arms around him and leaned her head on his shoulder. Feeling how tiny and slender she was renewed his desire to protect her, his only family. But he couldn’t. She was beyond his ability to care for. In a way, he had no choice but to entrust her to the very beings he distrusted.

  “Our mindsets have always been different,” she said quietly. “But I was always the wild one, remember? The forest dweller who’d climb the highest tree or jump across boulders in the ravine. You never liked me doing things like that. You’re the cautious one. You want others to be safe. I’m the reckless one, and you’re the voice of reason when I’m about to spring into some mischief.”

  Vivid memories of their childhood rushed into his mind’s eye. She was right about how different they were.

  “The Makers have made us this way for a reason,” said Winter. “I believe our differences are important for the tasks we have ahead of us.”

  Aven winced. “I don’t like when you talk that way. It makes me feel like I don’t have any choice in what’s happening.”

  “But we do. We both have a mix of choice and destiny. It’s how we respond to that that shapes us.”

  Despite his fear, a flicker of admiration warmed his heart. His sister was strong, in many ways stronger than he was.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Karience said, walking over to them. “Dicameron is back from the Consecrators. Do you feel up to going now?”

  Winter nodded, and Karience motioned for her to follow. Aven noticed that she spoke to Winter, not him, but he followed anyway. He was going wherever she was, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him. Karience led them out of the room to a security officer waiting outside.

  This man saved my life, tapped Winter.

  The man’s face was freshly shaven, and his eyes held untold stories. Aven had seen those same characteristics in many of the older farmers. A certain weight in their gaze from the unspoken experiences in their lives.

  “Officer Dicameron,” Karience said. “This is Aven. It appears he’ll be joining us.”

  “Very well,” said Dicameron, nodding to Aven. “Are you ready, Winter?”

  Winter nodded. “I am. Can you tell me a little about the Consecrators while we walk?”

  “I can tell you a lot about them,” said Dicameron, starting down the darkened tunnel. A light stick glowed in his left hand, illuminating that side of his face. “They are the smallest order in the Guardians. Eight total, plus one man called Galthess, who is beyond my security level to investigate.”

  “How can someone be beyond your security level to investigate?” said Karience. “Your sigil marks you as a captain.”

  “In my twenty-seven years of service, I’ve encountered three such individuals. They are accountable only to the Sentinels. I know that Galthess serves some alternative function for the Consecrators, but I don’t know what it is.”

  Aven noticed that the information seemed to trouble Karience.

  Dicameron continued. “In the Consecrator’s order, the women are called Sanctusses and the men are Sanctors. A Sanctuss called Voyanta is the one who will be interviewing Winter.”

  “I know only her name and title,” said Karience. “And that her rank is powerful enough to alter protocol for me and my Magnus Empyrean. What is this interview about?”

  Dicameron led them onto a moving platform in a larger tunnel. “It is more than just an interview, but I am not allowed to say more than that. I wish I could. If you haven’t picked up on my tone, let me make myself clear. I very much distrust the Consecrators.”

  “Why is that?” questioned Karience, her concern etched on her face.

  “Do you remember what I told you about Humanity Kind?”

  “Yes,” said Karience.

  “If Humanity Kind were compared to a body, the eight Consecrators would be its heart and soul.”

  “Then the Guardian leadership have accepted Humanity Kind?”

  “For the most part, though not the radical members, like the Execrata. The Guardian order’s purpose is at the very heart of Humanity Kind’s underlying philosophy of life.” He glanced at Karience. “You, being an Empyrean, should know this. You’ve been given charge of a world to nurture and protect. To guard against the malice of the Beasts and the indifference of the gods. This is not a new thing, this philosophy. It’s just been given a name and the focus of a movement.”

  “I was trained as an Empyrean to counteract the Beasts,” said Karience. “But the gods—I received no training about them. They do nothing to hinder our mission to bring peace to the galaxy. Why have they become important?”

  “If you find out,” said Dicameron, “let me know. All I can say is that the Oracles have always been of interest to our order. The Consecrators, I am told, are as old as the Guardians themselves.”

  “Is my sister going to be in any danger?” asked Aven, anxious for Winter.

  “No physical danger will come to your sister.”

 
Aven mulled Dicameron’s answer over, and it quickly took on a sour taste. Something was not being said.

  Are you sure you want to do this? tapped Aven.

  I’m curious about it, tapped Winter. I’m not afraid.

  Listen to your voice of reason, then.

  What does my voice of reason have to say?

  He thinks it might be good if you were a little afraid.

  I am a little, I suppose. But that changes nothing.

  The moving platform slowed to a stop.

  Aven looked at Winter. Her eyes were confident, and though there was no smile on her lips, her entire face seemed to be glowing with a sly grin.

  Why do I even bother worrying? tapped Aven.

  Because you love me.

  Aven nodded. Stupid love.

  _____

  WINTER

  Sanctuss Voyanta’s kind but intense eyes combed Winter’s face under the glow of fireless candles fastened to the stone walls. Winter was glad Aven and Karience were seated beside her, and that Dicameron stood by the door, as if keeping watch.

  The journey to where they now sat had taken a long time, as they had to weave their way through a large underground city, turning right and left so many times that she would be hopelessly lost if she tried to return to where they had started from. Once they’d reached what Dicameron called the Consecrators Den, Winter found herself awestruck as they had passed through a vast library of books in large vaulted rooms before finally stopping here, in this small and seemingly insignificant room at one corner of the library.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Winter.” The Sanctuss smiled at Karience and then glanced at Dicameron. “It is protocol that I speak with Winter alone. If you’ll kindly excuse yourselves and give us some time alone.”

  Karience turned to Winter at the Consecrator’s words, and their eyes met. A silent understanding passed between them.

  “After our ordeal today,” said Karience, “I’m sure she would rather not be alone with strangers.”