Bridge: Bridge & Sword: Apocalypse (Bridge & Sword Series Book 7)

by JC Andrijeski

  He trusted Balidor. He trusted Jon.

  He trusted Tarsi, too, who he could also feel in his light in the background. He knew Loki served as yet another backup on the ground. He might have to use Maygar more this time, but the younger Elaerian seemed more than willing for that to happen, too.

  Revik had to trust all of them. He had no choice.

  Whatever the outcome of this, he knew he couldn’t do it alone, and finishing this had become the tantamount thing. Not his feelings, not who lived or died, but the simple mechanics of making this work.

  His mind drifted to Maygar, anyway, at least for a few more steps across that dark grass.

  Revik knew he should be approaching his son with something more than this blank functionality, but he didn’t have the capacity for that at the moment, either.

  He’d done what little he could––what little his limited emotional capacity allowed.

  Before they left the hotel, Revik had grabbed Maygar by his armored vest, pulling him aside roughly when all of the other seers had been saying their goodbyes and leaving final instructions with friends and loved ones.

  Revik knew he couldn’t do much, especially then, but he told Maygar he was proud of him. He’d said other things, too. Regrets, mainly, but also feelings––hopes he had for the other man.

  He asked him to take care of his sister.

  He doubted whether much of what he’d said penetrated, but he told Maygar that he’d seen how hard he worked, both in San Francisco and on the airfield that day. He told him Chandre described to him in detail how much he’d helped her on the ground at that facility in California. He told him how sorry he was for what he’d endured under Shadow in Argentina.

  Revik told him he was sorry for having been absent for so much of his life. He told him he was sorry they wouldn’t have more time to get to know one another. He said he was sorry Maygar had to endure so much of his childhood alone. He said he was sorry he hadn’t been more understanding about Maygar’s feelings for Allie.

  Revik knew he’d handled it poorly, like he handled most emotional confessions poorly, as Allie used to like to remind him humorously. He knew whatever he’d said, it hadn’t been enough, that his words had likely been ill-chosen or easy to misunderstand. He knew he could have said more, told him more in those months in San Francisco.

  He knew all of that, but it was all he’d been able to give the other man.

  He’d ended it even more clumsily, with a wish for Maygar’s continued good health, a hope that he would survive this and go on to have a life he could be proud of, whatever the difficulties of the world his elders left him. He told him he hoped to be reunited with him behind the Barrier, and that their next incarnations together would be filled with more love.

  When he’d run out of words, he’d hugged him.

  Maygar even let him.

  Maygar teared up and nodded when Revik asked him again to look out for his sister, to keep her safe if they got her out. It was the only time his expression crumpled.

  Of course, that could have been emotional exhaustion, too.

  By then, Maygar knew Allie was dead.

  Revik knew Maygar had loved his wife, even if elements of that love consisted more of infatuation, fixation, jealousy––even anger at him. Maygar hadn’t ever come out and confessed to Revik that he loved her, but Revik could feel it, even before he’d spent so much time in his son’s light in San Francisco.

  Maygar could have felt pity for Revik, as well.

  He must know his biological father wouldn’t be alive much longer. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to refuse a dead man walking, even if that dead man happened to be Revik.

  Whatever his reasons, he’d embraced Revik in return. He hadn’t moved away when Revik touched his forehead to his, either, the gesture coming more of memory than the conscious thought that his own father had done the same to him as a child.

  When Maygar finally pulled away for real, the younger seer had tears in his eyes a second time. Revik didn’t know what those meant, either.

  He suspected Maygar, like the rest of them, barely knew where he was at this point.

  Revik had no idea if his words or that brief affection did anything at all for the other seer––if anything about him would ever mean anything to Maygar, after his death or at any point in the future. He didn’t know if Maygar still hated him, for having been a Rook, for leaving Maygar’s mother, for abandoning him––for marrying Allie.

  Revik didn’t know anything, really. He didn’t know his son.

  He felt he owed him that one small effort, at least. He trusted him to look out for his half-sister, along with Jon and Wreg and the rest of them. He hoped like hell they would have a chance to do it.

  He glanced around at the trees, still scanning for movement.

  He’d forgotten just how dark it could get, without electricity.

  For the past eighty or so years, light was more or less ubiquitous wherever humans lived. Now, seeing the looming, darkened structures of apartment buildings on either side, he was reminded of the world when he was young.

  Back then, forests were pitch black at night. The only lights came from homes, which were few and far between. People went to bed early, and woke early, their lives dictated by the arc of the sun. A cloudy night, or one without a moon, could leave one close to blind.

  The city was quiet.

  Revik felt from Declan and a few others that it had been this way for months.

  Power was down in most of the city, apart from solar cells and skins and the occasional gas generator. Even people who had access to one of those things didn’t turn on the lights at night, Declan said; they knew it was a beacon to anyone who might be watching to come hurt them, and steal whatever they had.

  A few exceptions existed, but those were all places like the hotel itself––places fortified well enough to protect themselves from a breach.

  Declan told him most clashes they saw now were gang-to-gang on the street, and involved blunt weapons. The only skirmishes larger than these were generally between local militias and the remaining branches of law enforcement.

  Those militias had sprung up fairly recently, and generally consisted of gangs that had banded together for strength. A number of the less-privileged locals seemed to have figured out their lives were more or less expendable in the new world order, and that if they wanted to survive, they needed to create armies of their own.

  Some of those militias had gotten pretty well organized, according to Anale and Dec. They were also growing increasingly bold––and better armed, both via homemade explosives and actual guns and rifles, which they were either buying or stealing.

  When they discussed all this, right after the first strike on the airfield and the OBE locks, Revik and the others even discussed the possibility of going after other quarantine cities, once they’d dealt with Cassandra, both to recruit and to knock out the police state apparatus.

  That was when he was still high on light and feeling his most optimistic––not just about their chances of stopping Shadow, but about his chances of getting his wife back, and maybe even his daughter.

  It was amazing how quickly all of that could change.

  He’d worked out succession plans, of course, back in San Francisco.

  He knew those plans remained largely meaningless, given the current environment around the globe, but he also knew the longer they could keep some semblance of civilization around whoever remained alive, the better their chances for survival.

  He knew Balidor and Wreg, assuming either or both of them survived this, would do the same. Meaning, they would do their best to provide the others with some semblance of structure, preferably one that felt familiar. No one harbored any delusions that things would go back to what they had been, no matter how many survived.

  Even so, the next manifestation of physical life would be easier to take with even a small ghost of the social, political, military and religious structures from the last one.


  Tarsi seemed to agree with Revik on that point, too.

  Revik didn’t know what Allie would have said.

  He tried to think about these things, about the future, the way she might have approached it, but he knew he probably hadn’t succeeded. His background had been almost entirely seer, hers almost entirely human. They simply didn’t see things the same, and he knew he’d probably missed things she would have caught, as a result.

  He could only hope Jon would fill in the gaps.

  Revik glanced at Jon as he thought it, measuring him briefly with his light.

  He had his pain under control. Seeing his sister collapse dead on the carpet of the suite must have quenched some of that fire between him and Wreg––temporarily, at least. Revik could still feel the bare edges of that pull on both of them, but it shouldn’t get in the way.

  Looking at them now, through the strange distance he’d developed over the last few hours, it made sense to him that they would complete the bond, if they survived this.

  They were right together, somehow.

  Really, looking at them now, he realized he already saw them as mates, despite all the problems they’d suffered over the last few months.

  Despite what he’d done to Jon in San Francisco.

  For the first time, he sent up a prayer specific to them, hoping they would get that time together––hoping they would survive this, for the benefit of all those who came after.

  Revik even questioned briefly whether he should have allowed the man who held the “command” position for all of humanity to come along with him on this suicide run in the first place. No one argued the point, not even Balidor or Wreg, and Revik wondered about that, too.

  He couldn’t force himself to want to change it, though.

  Not as much as he should. Not as much as Allie would have.

  Pushing her out of his mind, he forced his thoughts back to this, to all of them now.

  Even as he did, Wreg pinged his light.

  Revik’s head turned in reflex, though he still couldn’t see more than the other man’s faint outline, a few bodies to his right and slightly behind him.

  What? he sent.

  They’re scanning us. Do you feel it?

  Revik paused. He’d let his mind drift too much in the past few minutes. He did feel it now, a faint, directional thread cruising around the edges of their construct.

  It focused particularly on the shield over Revik himself.

  They may pretend to be unafraid, Wreg added, softer. But I suspect that shield vexes them somewhat, boss.

  What do they want? Revik’s words came out blunt, unthinking. What do they want from me, Wreg? What do you think?

  Wreg just looked at him through the dark, his light still.

  Revik persisted, Why didn’t they just leave with our child? Is this about having more Elaerian children? They must know I am dead soon.

  How should I know any of that, laoban? Wreg sent.

  What does your light tell you? Revik sent, unwilling to drop it.

  Wreg made a noncommittal gesture, his thoughts coming through blank.

  She wants to win, another voice sent, entering their conversation seamlessly.

  Revik turned, glimpsing Jon’s paler face in the dark, above a black uniform and only at a slightly lesser height than Wreg’s.

  Cass? Revik sent. Feeling the other man’s affirmation, he frowned. What does that mean? Win what? Does she want to kill me personally?

  I suspect she wants to take you from Allie personally, Jon said, his thoughts still utterly emotionless. I suspect it’s not enough for her, to have you both just die. She wants to know she beat you. That she won.

  Revik’s frown deepened.

  He continued to walk, one part of his light monitoring the scan of their construct, pinging Balidor to keep an eye on it, even as he turned over Jon’s words.

  Something about those words felt intrinsically true, but he couldn’t make sense of how, or whether it should change anything in his approach. He didn’t feel connected to Cass at all, or to Menlim––or even Terian. He couldn’t make sense of what Jon said in light of what he knew about Menlim, either, or the reasons Menlim might have for wanting Revik to come.

  Why would they risk a confrontation with him now, when they’d already won?

  Even if Jon was right, even if some emotional payoff motivated Cass, what possible reason could Menlim have for taking such a risk? The Menlim he remembered wasn’t a risk taker. He was pretty much the opposite of a risk taker.

  Revik had never met anyone, even Galaith, who liked outcomes mapped so tightly.

  Maybe he’d gotten all he wanted from Cass now that he had the child. Maybe he wanted Revik to kill Cass. Maybe he wanted Revik to kill Terian. Maybe Menlim had decided they were both too unstable, especially now that Revik would soon be dead.

  Truthfully, though, Revik had serious doubts Menlim would throw Cass away so easily.

  She seemed pretty damned devoted, from the little he’d been able to pick up about her and Menlim’s relationship. Menlim had no reason to dispose of Terian, either, not now that he’d clearly gotten him back under control.

  Then, something clicked.

  You say Cass would be motivated to take me from Allie? Revik sent to Jon.

  Jon nodded. Revik felt it through the link.

  Even with Allie dead? Revik sent.

  There was a silence. Revik felt a few of them flinch from his blunt words.

  Yes, Jon answered after that pause. He sounded certain. I’ve felt this angry jealousy thing on Cass since the whole thing started. Not jealousy so much about you. Just, you know, everything.

  Jon glanced over from the other side of Wreg.

  Revik saw his eyes faintly, in some fragment of reflected light.

  I felt it even before we got to South America, Jon added, as if thinking aloud. Maybe it started after the Terian thing––the first Terian thing, I mean. Being tortured. Raped. It feels older though, like stuff in her childhood. Maybe it was always there, and I just noticed it now, or maybe Shadow made it a lot worse.

  He shrugged, still thinking.

  In New York, even before your wedding, I kept getting this no-hope feeling from her, like she was lost, or felt she had nothing left. It really worried me, even though I could never pin it down. Not in terms of what it meant, or where she––

  Can you feel it now? Revik cut in. Can you feel her? Cass?

  Jon disappeared inside the Barrier.

  When he returned, a few seconds later, he shook his head.

  No.

  But you felt this before with her? Revik sent. At Jon’s assent through their link, he asked, When did it start? You say it was here, in New York?

  Yes. Around the time you and Allie robbed that bank. Still thinking, Jon shook his head. Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I remember the feeling even when we were kids. When her mom called or something, and she had to go back to her own family, after spending a lot of time in ours. Like this looking in from the outside, feeling like she…

  Trailing, clearly remembering, Jon shook his head.

  …I don’t know. Like she felt cheated. Like her life was stolen from her, and all she could do was live in some corner of Allie’s. Allie’s life. Allie’s family… Allie’s friends.

  Jon looked over in the dark.

  Honestly? That never really stopped. Even in college, and after, it was always like that. She’d joke about being a sidekick, but honestly, Allie really hated that. She’d complain to me how Cass made herself a sidekick––how Cass seemed determined to keep herself in that role. Allie thought it was why Cass let assholes sleep with her, and why she wouldn’t leave Jack when he got abusive. Allie thought Cass had it in her head that she couldn’t even be the hero of her own story.

  Jon clicked softly under his breath, adjusting the rifle strap on his shoulder.

  She hated it… Allie, I mean. It’s the only time I ever heard her badmouth Cass. She tried talking to Cass a
bout it, too, but I don’t think it ever went anywhere. Allie was afraid she’d end up marrying one of those creeps. Someone like Cass’s dad.

  Revik nodded, thinking.

  He found himself putting Jon’s words together with what he knew of Menlim, with what he remembered about the man who’d raised him. Menlim could use that. He could use all of what Jon just said.

  Revik could even think of a number of ways how he might use it.

  Still watching his feet move in the dark, he nodded again.

  I understand, he sent.

  And in that moment, he almost did.

  36

  WARRIOR

  TARSI SAT ON a padded, leather bench in one corner of the conference room.

  The others had forgotten about her.

  She didn’t mind. She only really noted that fact insofar as it gave her an opportunity to watch the rest of them, and to think her own thoughts, with only the smallest monitoring of theirs with some less-engaged part of her aleimi.

  The seers in the room exuded stress, sadness, worry, fear.

  Tarsi understood.

  She watched them work under three long monitors that shone from the virtually-equipped window overlooking the park. A young human girl with dark brown hair hunched over a number of hand-helds with secondary monitors, sitting with Vikram, who had come from the Pamir and the Adhipan training cells, as well as Anale, who trained first under Tarsi herself.

  The human girl had an interesting aleimic structure, Tarsi noted.

  But then, her name lived high up on the human Displacement List, right under Jon Taylor himself. Although she technically reported to him, she’d also been categorized a “Rank 1,” just like Jon––the only other Rank 1 on the human list.

  Dante was her name, Tarsi remembered.

  Tarsi decided she might need her, too, before all this finished.