Now for the last one. His mind knew exactly which of the fifty-two he’d already used. He knew every suit and value, could see every pip and pattern as if they were sitting right in front of him. There was one last card lying face down. This was the card that would go on top of his delicate construct.
He turned it over in his mind. The joker. A laughing mime. It’s eyes were alight with mischief and it wore a tasseled hat.
Suddenly the picture on the card changed. The clown’s face seemed to blur and was replaced with something else. With a start, he realized what it was. Beneath the red and black colored hat was a mangy face with yellow fangs. And he knew it immediately for what it was.
A jackal.
Suddenly Edward’s eyes regained focus and he realized where he was and what he was doing. What had he been thinking? He couldn’t do this. Tabitha was wrong. He was leaning too far out over the pillar! His vision swam as he saw the darkness swirling below his feet.
He tottered on the edge.
“No!” Tabitha shouted. “Stay focused!”
But it was too late. A scream tore from Edward’s lips as he tumbled from the edge of the pillar, spiraling from his perch. Tabitha was so shocked that she lost the precious instant that she needed to sing in order to produce the Song of Lifting! She gazed, horrified as Edward plunged headfirst toward the stony ground.
“Pull up!” she whispered. “Pull up!”
Edward’s body faded into the darkness below.
Tabitha cringed, waiting for the sickening thud that was sure to come next. The wind from the south intensified, whipping over the tops of the pillars.
Suddenly, from the shadows below, a figure soared up into the night sky. Tabitha barely caught a glimpse of Edward’s thin face illuminated by the moonlight. But in that second, she saw his mouth working silently as it had when he was on top of the pillar. His mammoth, black wings were flared out dramatically on either side of him as he shot past her.
Edward was airborne!
Tabitha whooped with excitement as the thin boy’s frame silhouetted against the huge moon. As he swooped and dived, her trained eye could pick out little imperfections of form. He wobbled once or twice, but whatever he was doing to keep focused was working.
Overall, she had to admit that once again he’d surprised her. The first time had been his ability to use one of the Ten Words of Power. The second was how he’d thrown the ring with tremendous force at the Groundling outside of Woodhaven. And now, without any in-depth flying instruction, this unlikely candidate had proven that he was a natural.
Edward’s antics had drawn the attention of Sariel, Artemis, and Bridgette. They were shouting words of encouragement as Edward soared, picking his way through delicate breezes.
Although he kept his mind focused on his rows of playing cards, Edward was also aware of what was happening. The cool night air flowed over and under his outstretched wings, raising goose pimples on his arms, and stinging his cheeks. His hair whipped backward, and whether it was from the forceful breezes or because of the pure joy he felt, tears flowed from his eyes and coursed down his cheeks.
He was really flying!
Chapter Twenty-One
RING
Flying was one thing, but landing was quite another. Edward tried to keep himself calm, visualizing his carefully constructed card house firmly in his mind. The wind whistled in his ears as the shadowy ground grew closer. Edward kept reciting the names of the cards to himself, forcing himself to stay calm.
Four aces on the four corners. King of diamonds, wearing his miner’s cap, on the left side. Jack of hearts holding his bow and arrows, holding up the right . . .
His feet hit the ground much harder than he thought and he stumbled forward several paces. He barely missed colliding with one of the stone columns. Thankfully, he managed not to fall over and completely embarrass himself.
“Edward, that was fantastic!” Bridgette said, rushing forward. She threw her arms around him. “You really did it! You flew!”
Edward didn’t know what to say. He grinned widely and turned a deep shade of red.
Tabitha fluttered down and flashed him a smile. “That was very good. We can work on your form a little more, but overall it was an excellent first flight. Next, we’ll get to work on mastering your ring and learning the Songs. You just might end up being a halfway decent Guardian, after all.”
Edward beamed back at her. Although he’d had to concentrate very hard, he’d loved the sensation of soaring through the air. Once he was up there actually doing it, it had felt so natural. The muscles on his back had pushed the wings through the air and he loved the feel of his feathers as they quickly responded to the ever-changing wind currents.
“Hey, I think I found something!” Sariel’s high-pitched voice called out from the rack of scrolls. Discarded tubes littered the floor around her and she had one of the scrolls unrolled in front of her.
“Is it the word?” Artemis croaked. The toad, half hopped, half fluttered to the place where the ermine sat.
“No, but it’s the journal entry Melchior made right after getting the ring from Cornelius.” The ermine handed the scroll to Edward, who, not wanting to read aloud, automatically gave it to Bridgette. “Y-you r-read it,” he stammered.
The girl cleared her throat and read:
Thenceday, 12. W.R. 2651
Finished transaction with Cornelius. Both new rings are magnificent! C knows my plans to be with S. He’s the only one I’ve told. The warnings I expected, but his support I didn’t. He encouraged me to seek other means of achieving my goals with S. He said that, although it is unheard of, there might be a way to achieve what I want by appealing to the Higher Places.
But I told him it’s too late. I’ve already made contact with the Jackal and made my decision. Tomorrow I fall.
Bridgette looked up from the scroll with a somber expression.
“And that’s all it says,” she said. She carefully rolled up the paper and replaced it in the gray tube.
Edward removed the ring from his pocket and turned it over and over with his fingers, thinking about what he’d just heard. The journal entry had mentioned two rings and Edward knew that those weren’t ordinary rings. He’d seen his father wearing this one on the third finger of his left hand. There could only be one reason that Melchior had asked for two of them. They were wedding rings!
Suddenly he knew with absolute certainty how to activate the ring he held. Because there were two rings, he felt that each one of the precious bands held the other’s secret word. He knew what his father would have picked. It was so obvious that he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.
“I’ve got it,” he said quietly. The others turned to him with expectant faces. Edward met their gaze with a small smile and said, “It could only be one thing.”
He took a deep breath. The ring seemed to glimmer softly in his outstretched palm. He spoke in a clear voice, the words coming to his lips without hesitation.
“Sarah.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
CORNELIUS
The wind whipped through Bridgette’s hair as she clung to the space on Edward’s back between his wings. Over the howl in her ears, she could pick up snatches of Tabitha’s Song of Lifting, the magical melody allowing her to ride weightlessly as she held on to the skinny boy’s shoulders.
She glanced in front of her to the glowing ring that hovered beyond, drawing them like a magnet to Cornelius’s Valley. They had been in the air for nearly an hour and showed no signs of stopping.
Edward’s massive black wings beat steadily on either side of her. Tabitha, looking like a great, impossible bird, kept pace with them. The Guardian watched Edward’s movement carefully as she sang, paying attention to his form and demonstrating little corrections from time to time.
Sariel and Artemis looked right at home on Tabitha’s back. It had been a long time since either of them had possessed the flying ability of a Guardian, but they clearly hadn’t forgotte
n the feeling.
Even soaring through the air, Bridgette couldn’t relax. She had been constantly worried about her honorary uncle and aunt since she’d seen their cottage on fire. She knew the terrible consequences of fires all too well. They stole away family members and left empty, burned out holes in their consuming wake.
Her mind wandered to the hospital where she hovered between life and death. If she concentrated, she could hear her father’s voice, speaking softly as she lay, seemingly unreachable, in the white bed. Her poor face and body were destroyed, burned beyond recognition. And yet, her parents wanted her back, wanted their daughter to live.
“Come back to us, Bridgette. Come back, darling.”
Her eyes watered, the stiff breeze carrying tears down the sides of her cheeks. She desperately wanted to see them again. But she couldn’t give up on her baby sister. Somewhere up in the Higher Places, Katie was waiting for her. And the only way Bridgette could get there was if Edward could rebuild the Seven Bridges.
The ring started a downward path and Edward, at Tabitha’s signal, began their descent into a fertile valley below. It was ringed on all sides by tall mountains, and would have been impossible to find from the ground.
So that’s how Cornelius has managed to keep hidden from the Groundlings,Bridgette thought. Groundlings lost their ability to fly when they fell. There would have been no possible way for the evil beings to discover the spot unless someone told them exactly which mountains to climb.
A few minutes later, the ground rushed up at them. Edward made a wonderful landing. She knew he was trying to be extra careful because she was clinging to his back. She smiled.
Bridgette had often noticed the way Edward looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She could tell that he liked her.
She wanted to like him back, but she couldn’t let herself. Although she was in the Woodbine, she was also in a coma in a hospital bed. It made her feel like she was borrowing the body she now held, the one that looked so much like she had before the accident that had robbed her of her identity.
And if he could see what I really looked like back on Earth, would he still like me?
She doubted that anyone except for her parents could love the thing she’d become. If the doctor’s did help her survive, then she knew that her life from that day forward would probably be a lonely one. She couldn’t allow herself to have feelings here in the Woodbine. It could all disappear and leave her heartbroken if she awoke back on Earth.
Her unhappy musing was interrupted by the slow arrival of several creatures. They were as big as houses with mammoth shells of pearly white and blue skin the color of a cloudless sky. As they moved through the tall grass, Bridgette couldn’t help but be reminded of tall galleons making their way across the ocean.
When they drew closer, Bridgette got her first clear look at their faces. Their huge, human faces looked weathered but wise. When one of them spoke, it was in a deep, rich language she couldn’t understand.
“SOOOOOOOOOOMMM!” it bellowed, its voice causing the earth beneath her feet to tremble.
“Yes, Techote. We have guests,” another, much smaller voice chimed in. It was only then that Bridgette noticed the speaker. He was an old man with a long, white beard who was riding on top of the nearest snail. He was wearing a fur cap with two curling horns extending from either side like a Buffalo.
The man climbed down a rope ladder connected to his saddle, and walked briskly over to them. For such an old man, Bridgette was surprised to see him move with such vigor.
“Welcome to the Valley of the Blue Snails,” the man said, his eyes focused on the golden ring hovering above Edward’s head like a halo.
“I recognize that ring. Is that you, Melchior?” the man said, beaming at Edward.
Edward didn’t know what to say. “Um, no. Melchior is my father.”
If the old man was shocked, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled at Edward, revealing a mouth full of missing teeth.
“Well, bless my bones,” he chuckled. “It is indeed.” His smile faded and his expression grew serious.
Then, in a move that surprised them all, he removed his fur cap and bowed his wrinkled head. The two snails on either side of the old man lifted their mammoth heads skyward and gazed reverently into the heavens. Edward fidgeted awkwardly. The man bowed before him for a long moment before speaking. Then, when he finally spoke, he said something that no one, least of all Edward, expected him to say.
“Welcome, Bridge Builder,” the old man said. “My name is Cornelius and it’s an honor to welcome you to this valley. We’ve been waiting a long time for your arrival.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
LAIR
It was older than the ancient trees that bordered its impregnable iron gates. And those trees were part of the Ancient Forest, a grove that went back to the earliest days, the last boundary between the lush country of the Woodbine and the desolation called the Blighted Lands.
The Jackal had built his Lair shortly after his spectacular fall, and the remnants of the Seven Bridges that he tore down with him littered the desert around his twisted palace. Some said that it was the fire from the bridges as they entered the atmosphere that created the blight, but the Jackal knew the truth. It was hate. A hate so magnificent that it blasted away any living thing in its path, leaving only bones and decay in its terrible wake.
Deep within the fortress, imprisoned in a slime-ridden cell, was a woman dressed in tattered, blue rags. She was an important piece in a larger chess game, a white queen that every other piece on the board would soon be trying desperately to reclaim. And the Jackal waited for their attack with eager anticipation, for it meant one thing and one thing only. The boy, the son of Melchior, was bound to come for his mother. And if every other one of his best-laid plans failed, he would be waiting for Edward when he arrived. The Jackal had been searching for the boy for years and now, after such a long wait, he would force Edward to come to him. After all, how could he not? After Whiplash Scruggs’s delivery of Melchior, the Jackal now possessed both of his parents. And he had a final card to play, one that would force him inside his carefully constructed web.
A high-pitched, wheezing laugh, the one that had given the Jackal his nickname, burst from his throat. A horrible, yellow eye, the Jackal’s one remaining piece of living tissue, glinted with malice.
It would all be over soon. And mankind’s feeble hope for a Bridge Builder would be lost for eternity.
Chapter Twenty-Four
HORSEMEN
Whiplash Scruggs hurried down the long, twisting corridor that led to the secret chamber. A pair of rusted iron keys jingled at his belt as he strode, his bulky form moving at a surprising pace for a man of his size.
He had no knowledge of Edward’s encounter with the carnival’s illusion of himself in Specter’s Hollow. Even if he had known that Edward had taken refuge there, he wouldn’t have followed. Specter’s Hollow was the one place above all else that he dreaded setting foot in. Scruggs had many fears, most of which he kept secret. The thought of facing them was too terrible to imagine, because most of his fears had to do with the master he served.
Handing Melchior over to the Jackal had saved Scruggs from several terrible tortures that he would rather not think about. If he hadn’t captured the traitor, he knew that his master would not have overlooked failing to capture Edward for the third time. Thankfully, it was Melchior who was being tortured instead.
Scruggs reached the end of the corridor and descended a flight of crumbling stairs. Spiderwebs clung to his massive arms as he plunged heedlessly forward, anxious to fulfill his instructions. It had been many centuries since they had been unleashed. They were some of the Jackal’s most faithful servants, created for his use before the fall.
At the bottom of the staircase was a thick, wooden door. A grate of steel was woven over a tiny window, but looking through it revealed nothing. They were deep inside, shrouded in darkness blacker than the shadows.
&
nbsp; Scruggs’s hand shook as he inserted one of the big keys into the iron lock. It took considerable effort to turn and he had to throw all of his weight against the tumblers before the rusted metal finally gave way.
The door swung open with a loud, prolonged creak. Scruggs peered into the darkness and said the words his master had instructed him to say.
“The Jackal summons you.”
For a brief moment it seemed as though they hadn’t heard him. Then, suddenly, there was a spark and the stench of burning oil. Four pairs of glowing eyes flared to life. The creatures’ metallic flanks heaved and Scruggs hastily backed out of the doorway to allow the horsemen through. They looked like centaurs, with human torsos and horse bodies. But unlike the majestic images that most people thought of when picturing the mythical creatures, these were as horrifying as the others were beautiful.
Scruggs had seen many terrible things in the Jackal’s army. But the horsemen still sent terrified shivers down his back. The first horseman was gaunt and carried a pair of rusted scales. The second was coated in rust and parts of it were crumbling with decay. The third was so big that it barely fit through the door. It carried an axe that was almost as large as Scruggs himself. But it was the fourth that made his knees weak with fear. Its skeletal head swiveled in Scruggs’s direction, giving him a hollow-eyed stare that was impossible to escape. It saw everything.
Then, as one, they emitted a long wail. Seconds later thunder rattled through the hallway as they galloped up the stairs, anxious to follow their master’s bidding.
Whiplash Scruggs had heard that once the horsemen were sent after their prey, they couldn’t be stopped. The stories said that when they were unleashed, even the Jackal himself could barely control them. But Scruggs believed that his master knew what he was doing, and he hoped that, as long as he played his part and followed orders, he would remain unharmed.
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