“Well, I promise not to keep you long. What I have to say will only take a few minutes,” Jack said, interrupting the happy chatter. As the faun turned his attention to the book on his lap, Edward couldn’t help wondering what kind of training it took to become a full-fledged Guardian. Were the studies difficult? How hard was it to learn how to fly? Although he had sprouted wings, he had no idea how to use them. He wished someone would offer to train him.
His thoughts were interrupted as Jack turned to a page that was marked by a red ribbon, and handed the large volume to Tollers.
The faun took a quick puff on his pipe and said, “I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the Fall of Melchior. Until yesterday, Tollers and I considered it one of the more obscure texts in the Libram Occasum. The report that is listed there is brief. But after discovering a bit of new information, we felt that a public reading was necessary.” He turned to the little man. “If you would, Tollers.”
The gray-haired hobbit wiggled his furry toes and lowered his half-moon spectacles. “This report was filed approximately fifteen years ago by a clerk in the Fallen Guardian Records office. The fact that Jack and I spotted it during our research was quite remarkable. Most of the more prominent cases are several pages long. This one, however, is only a paragraph or two. Apparently it wasn’t considered of great importance at the time and was recorded in a rather abbreviated fashion.”
Edward listened with rapt attention as the little man cleared his throat and glanced down at the page. Moments later his high, clear voice filled the room as he began to read.
“Let all hear and beware the case of Melchior Hazshaferah, Guardian First Class . . .”
Chapter Three
REPORT
“Melchior Hazshaferah was considered by many to be the greatest craftsman the Woodbine had ever seen. He created Instruments of Power, Guardian weapons that were filled with powerful magic. Who among us can’t recall the Harp of Longing or the Trumpet of Grave Summoning? Both of these instruments currently occupy places of honor inside the Hall of Master Craftings in the Woodbine capital city of Estrella.
Unfortunately, Melchior is no longer a resident of the Woodbine. The Council hasn’t released the details of the case, but a spokesman in Estrella confirmed reports that he violated Code 1737, ‘Inappropriate Contact with a Mortal.’ It is believed that Melchior Hazshaferah enlisted the help of the Jackal and has traded immortality for a mortal body. He’s accused of marrying the mortal woman he was sent to guard, and was last spotted somewhere in the northwest region of the United States. The Council has stated that Melchior has been officially declared a Groundling Fourth Class and is denied all access to Guardian Territory. Let all residents of the Woodbine hear and beware this terrible crime.”
-Entry prepared by Jebrial Bethesda,
Records Clerk, W.R. 13.2. 2657
“Thank you, Tollers. If you don’t mind, I’d like to proceed from here,” Jack said. Tollers nodded and closed the large tome.
The report had been brief and somewhat interesting, but had left Edward feeling confused. What did it have to do with him?
Jack lit his pipe and took a deep breath. “Up until recently, Melchior’s story has been overlooked by most scholars. His crime was considered of little consequence in the general history of the Woodbine. But yesterday we found out that there was more to the tale. We’ve learned that the relationship Melchior had with the mortal woman was short-lived, because the evil power of the Jackal’s Corruption began to take its toll.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Jack,” Bridgette interrupted, “but would you mind explaining more about the Corruption? I mean, I thought it was a sickness that only fallen Guardians could get. Can humans get it, too?”
The faun paused thoughtfully. “No, Bridgette, humans can’t get the Corruption. It’s something reserved for fallen Guardians alone. Ever since the Jackal fell, he’s used his dark power against any fallen Guardian who resists serving him. The Corruption is a special curse that causes the Guardian to become a twisted, monstrous creature. Their ability to resist the Jackal weakens as they change, and they soon become as evil as their master. Their only thought is to serve him and spread destruction wherever they go. And, of course, like all fallen Guardians, they gradually lose the ability to fly.”
Tabitha gasped softly. Edward noticed that she tucked her beautiful wings protectively behind her. He glanced back at his own and gulped. Even if he didn’t know how to use his wings yet, the thought of losing them was terrible. They were part of him now, just as real and permanent as his arms or legs.
The faun cleared his throat and said, “In Melchior’s case, he recklessly signed a contract with the Jackal when he fell, stating that he was willing to give anything to be with the mortal woman. But he didn’t understand fully what she would have to pay for that to happen. It was a heavy price. The woman’s life was cut short and, even worse, their first child would belong to the Jackal. Later, when Melchior had second thoughts about what he had done, he broke the contract. While the woman was pregnant with their child, he smuggled both mother and son away, hoping to hide them from the Jackal’s notice.”
Jack continued in a somber voice. “But no matter how far he went, he couldn’t run from the Corruption. As the Jackal’s poison set in, Melchior’s love for the mortal woman became increasingly selfish. He grew jealous and possessive, fearing that someone might take her away from him. And the more he lived with these twisted, prickly thoughts, the more he started to resemble them. His once beautiful appearance was changed into something small, dark, and monstrous. He became a shriveled man who looked more porcupine than human.”
Edward’s face grew pale. Wait a minute. Did he just say the woman’s life was cut short? The same thing had happened to Edward’s mother. Not only that, but he remembered Artemis and Sariel referring to Mr. Spines as “Melchior” when they were on the train. He didn’t like where this line of thinking was going. The implications of what that would mean were horrible. He bit his lip anxiously. It can’t be, he reassured himself. It’s only a coincidence.
“Melchior and his wife began fighting daily, and all of the happiness he had known on Earth began to melt away. It was after a particularly vicious argument that Melchior decided to abandon his wife and newborn son. The small part of him that was still a Guardian realized that it would be better for him to leave them than to allow the Corruption to fully take hold. He hoped that she would be happier without him, and that maybe the Jackal would leave her alone if he were gone.
The woman died thirteen years later without their son ever meeting his father. The doctors never did identify the disease that killed her, but Melchior knew the truth. It was because of the contract he’d signed with the Jackal that she died in the prime of her life.”
Edward squirmed uncomfortably. He couldn’t look at Jack, couldn’t bear to hear the rest of the story. But he also couldn’t bring himself to leave the room. He just sat there, feeling stunned, with his palms sweating and his heart hammering in his chest.
Jack shook his head sadly. “After his mother’s death, the state arranged for Melchior’s son to be sent to a boarding school called the Foundry. But it was under surveillance by some of the Jackal’s low-ranking forces. After a year at that miserable school, the boy developed a terrible itch between his shoulders. Soon after that, he sprouted wings. That’s when Melchior came back into the story. He rescued his son before a Groundling nicknamed Whiplash Scruggs could capture him and sever his newly sprouted wings, a sure death for any Guardian. The boy escaped and then used one of Melchior’s inventions to transport himself here.”
No, it can’t be true! Spines can’t be my, my . . . Edward felt dizzy. Bridgette looked at him with a concerned expression. He was trembling all over, unwilling to believe the story he’d just heard.
It’s over. A cruel voice kept repeating itself over and over in his head. You thought you had a fresh start, didn’t you? Thought that everything would be different up here. But y
ou were wrong. You’re the son of a Groundling. And you’ll end up just like him, wait and see. Having wings doesn’t make you a Guardian. You’re destined to fail, just like he did. He killed your mother and would have given you to the Jackal.
Edward felt like he was going to be sick. The room was suddenly stuffy and the air too thick to breathe. Tabitha said, “Whiplash Scruggs? I know that name! ‘Scruggs’ is Moloc, one of our fiercest enemies!”
Jack gave the young Guardian a worried glance. “We all know Moloc by reputation. But when I found out about his contact with the boy, the question I had was whydid the Jackal assign one of his most fearsome commanders to pursue someone who didn’t even know that he was a Guardian? Even if he was Melchior’s son.”
Jack reached over to one of the books on his shelf and removed a volume with green silk binding. “And I believe this is the answer. It’s an excerpt from Bridges Between the Worlds, a clever bit of prophecy disguised as a children’s rhyme.”
Jack cleared his throat and after lowering a pair of half spectacles, read,“There are seven bridges between the worlds
and five of them are broken,
the sixth one has no rails to hold,
and the seventh one was stolen.
Captive then, the wand’ring dead,
for an epoch the world’s turn.
When halfway from the mortal realm,
a builder will return.
His twisted tongue will utter song,
the champion will arise,
but fallen Groundling or gentle Guard,
his choices will decide.”
There was silence as Jack closed the book. Edward had barely had enough time to process what Jack had said about Mr. Spines being his father, and now he was being asked to believe that he, Edward, was some kind of hero? It couldn’t be possible, could it? Edward stared at Jack, his mind spinning. He wanted to run away, to get to some quiet place and build card houses. His hand strayed to his pocket where the deck was hidden, seeking reassurance. He found the box and gripped it hard, trying to keep his hands from shaking.
The faun continued, “Ever since the Jackal fell, tearing apart the seven bridges that led to the Higher Places, we mortals have been trapped here in the Woodbine. This world, which was once just a stopping place for newly arrived souls, has become a prison that keeps us from moving forward. The rhyme speaks of the champion that will repair the Jackal’s destruction and set us all free so that we can travel back up the Seven Bridges to the Higher Places. The souls trapped in the Woodbine have waited centuries for this person to come. And after much discussion, Tollers and I believe that the person mentioned in this rhyme is with us now.”
The faun turned to look at the tall, skinny boy with black wings. “Edward, will you come forward?”
Edward stood, looking gangly and uncertain in the firelight. Every eye in the room was staring at him and he felt the color rise in his cheeks.
Jack smiled broadly and gave him an encouraging pat on the arm.
“Tollers and I believe that this, my friends, is the Bridge Builder mentioned in the prophecy. As the rhyme states, he’s ‘halfway from the mortal realm,’ which can only refer to the son of a Guardian and a mortal. Tabitha and Jemial, meet Edward Macleod, the one that the Jackal asked for in the contract signed by Melchior. We believe that he is the champion that will one day rebuild the Seven Bridges. The Jackal must have known it would be Melchior’s son, so he tried to destroy him in infancy.”
Jemial and Tabitha looked at Edward skeptically. Edward could tell right away that he didn’t fit their ideas of what a heroic character should look like.
Jemial cleared his throat. “Jack, your authority on these matters is well-known,” he said awkwardly. “But, with all due respect, I seriously doubt that the text was referring to this boy. I’m sure it must be a coincidence.” The big Guardian glanced at Edward and said,
“That bit of rhyme has been around for a long time. I don’t think it was ever meant to be taken literally.”
“And if it wastrue, it couldn’t have been referring to the son of a fallen Guardian,” Tabitha said, eyeing Edward coolly. “If there really is a Bridge Builder, he would be greater than Mi’kael1 himself. Nobody has ever been able to sing a Song powerful enough to rebuild the Seven Bridges!” She arched an eyebrow at Edward. “And I really think that the Bridge Builder wouldn’t have a problem with speech, either.” She crossed her arms. “There’s no way this boycould possibly be him.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re mistaken,” Jack said, his eyes twinkling. “The rhyme also mentions a ‘twisted tongue.’ I think it suggests further evidence in Edward’s favor.”
Edward stared at the floor. He’d never asked for this, to be considered some great, prophetic hero. All he wanted to do was rescue his mom. But, on the other hand, what if everything Jack was saying was true? A glimmer of hope flared in his chest. What if the prophecy really meant that he was destined to be different than his father? That he actually was destined to be a hero? Could it be possible?
Resentment over Tabitha and Jemial’s outright dismissal of his potential seethed inside him. They didn’t even know him. Maybe he was untrained, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t learn.
Suddenly, an all too familiar voice sounded from the doorway.
“You, young apprentice, are wrong. The boy isthe Bridge Builder,” the voice said.
No one had heard the front door swing open, or the silent footsteps that had crept into the room. But all eyes were now turned on the small, crumpled-looking figure that stood at the edge of the common room. The stumpy man had spiny hair that pointed in all directions from underneath a stovepipe hat. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his glittering eyes swept the room in a glare of defiance.
“He is the one. I’ve known it all along. After all, I should. I’m his father.”
Chapter Four
SPINES
Edward Macleod stared at the creature that had once been Melchior, feeling his stomach twist in desperation. It was impossible to believe that this thing, this creature that had recklessly promised him to the Jackal before he was born was actually his father.
Edward stepped back as Mr. Spines hobbled toward him.
“I wanted to tell you everything,” Spines rasped. “But your mother needs help, and I didn’t know if you would agree to go with me if I told you the truth. You must learn to use your wings, Edward, and discover how to use your other powers so that we can reach her. I can train you.”
“Don’t t-talk to me about m-my mother!” Edward fired back. “Y-you have no r-right. It was b-because of you she d-died. Y-you would have given me to the Jackal!” he shouted.
Edward stood there, glaring at Mr. Spines and shaking with rage. He’d never felt so angry in his entire life.
There was a ring of steel as Jemial unsheathed his curved sword. After leveling it at Mr. Spines’s neck he said, “Melchior, you know that if a Guardian falls, they’re no longer welcome in the Woodbine.” The huge man towered over the prickly creature. “You are in violation of the law.”
Everyone in the room held their breath. Mr. Spines didn’t flinch. He gazed directly into Jemial’s eyes and said in a low voice, “I don’t serve the Jackal, I broke my contract. I’ve come to protect the boy and help him find his mother and then I’ll leave for good. Would a Groundling do that?”
Tabitha spoke, looking angry. “How do we know he’s not lying?” she shouted. “It could be a trick! The Jackal could be luring us to his Lair so that he can destroy us!” She glared at Melchior. “He’s says he’s not a Groundling but just look at him. The Corruption is too great. There can’t be any part of a Guardian left in that hideous mess.”
“She brings up a good point,” Jemial said slowly. “Groundlings are known for deception and he could be lying,” The big Guardian turned to look at Tabitha. “However, it is also the policy of Guardians not to judge books by their covers, young apprentice.”
Tabitha stared at Jem
ial with openmouthed surprise. She looked ready to retaliate, but, with evident struggle, held her tongue.
Jemial turned back to Melchior, the Guardian’s sword still positioned at his throat. Then, after an excruciatingly long moment, Jemial lowered his weapon.
“By the Beggar Lord,” he said softly, “I would love nothing better than to see you gone forever. However, it isn’t my decision to make. I’ll leave it to the Council to decide what should be done.” He sheathed his sword and turned to Jack. “I’d like for you to keep him here for a little while, if you don’t mind. As soon as I get to Estrella, I’ll notify the Council and they’ll arrange an escort. By Woodbine law, he must stand trial. It’s the only way to get to the bottom of all this.”
Mr. Spines gave the Guardian a stony look. Jemial motioned for Tabitha to follow him.
“Come, apprentice. We have work elsewhere.”
“But he’s a traitor! We don’t need the Council on this! We should just eliminate him like we would any other Groundling,” Tabitha said angrily.
“It is not your decision,” Jemial said firmly.
“But . . .”
“Abide by the law, apprentice,” Jemial said evenly.
Tabitha’s mouth worked soundlessly. Shaking with rage, she stomped from the room. Jemial stayed just long enough to incline his head courteously to Jack and Joyce before following after his angry apprentice.
Edward wished he could leave, too, to get as far away from Mr. Spines as he could. Growing up, he’d often wondered what had happened to his father. And when things were really bad at his boarding school, he’d dreamed that his father would come back one day, a heroic figure that would take him away from that terrible situation.
Edward glanced at Melchior and frowned. His father had saved him, but he was no hero. And now that he had come back, Edward wanted nothing to do with him. He couldn’t get over the part of the story where Melchior had agreed to give him to the Jackal to get what he wanted. Even if Melchior hadn’t actually gone through with it, what kind of a person would agree to such a thing? It was unthinkable!
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