A Bridge of Realms

by B. T. Narro

  Andar gasped. “The money from before?”

  “We had to spend a lot to survive, unfortunately. I tried to save as much as I could because I knew I would one day get it back to you. I wish there was more I could do to help, but here. Keep it somewhere safe.”

  Andar turned it upside down and counted quickly. “Eight gold coins! Father, this is so much. Are you sure you don’t need more?”

  “No, I want you to have it.”

  “What about horses and supplies?” Andar asked with worry. “If you stay hidden somewhere, I can buy whatever you need and deliver it—”

  “No, no.” Darren smiled sadly. “I don’t want you involved. Besides, the rebels and I will be fine. If you remember, I’d already paid for a horse and carriage before the king’s army came and mucked everything up.”

  “I remember,” Andar said. “Leo and I have tried to figure out who the seller was so we might be able to get the horse and carriage from him, but we couldn’t figure it out.”

  “There was no way you could. I should’ve told you, in case something happened.” Darren shook his head as he looked down at Andar. “I have many regrets.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Leo and Andar said at the same time.

  Darren gave a nod. “That horse seller owes me a horse and carriage. I’m planning on taking what’s mine tonight. If the horse and carriage promised to me aren’t there anymore, then I’ll take others. Unfortunately, that means I must leave while it’s still dark.”

  That sounded incredibly dangerous to Leo, but the way his father spoke was as if it was a simple trade.

  “Come here one last time,” Darren said as he crouched and opened his arms. “Rygen, you too,” he said as she hesitated.

  They all pressed together, Darren enveloping them.

  “We’re all family now. Yune, come on.”

  She came to embrace them from the other side, joining Darren’s arms in forming a circle around them.

  “We’re all family,” Darren repeated. “It’s up to us to take care of each other. We trust each other with everything from now on. Everything.”

  Soon the embrace was over and Darren stood and sucked in a breath. “I love you all.”

  “We love you,” Yune answered first. Leo and Andar echoed after.

  Darren walked to the front door, took a long look back, then closed the door behind him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mavrim was dying. He was the king of all humankind, and yet nothing he did seemed to stop the poison. It was in all the water he drank. He’d figured this out when he’d stopped eating the meals brought to his chambers, but he only got worse.

  He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d become bedridden, surely months. Any other man would’ve died by now, but he refused to give up. He had much more to do before his son took over his kingdom.

  My son. Gavval Orello. Mavrim wondered how well Gavval feigned grief for his father’s sickness. Mavrim knew it was not Gavval himself slipping the poison into Mavrim’s water but someone working with him. Nonetheless, how could he do this to his father?

  Mavrim had despised his own father after the callous leader had ordered the execution of Mavrim’s beloved Artistry teacher. Mavrim had even wished his father dead a time or two, but there was a monumental effort required to actually poison a king. Gavval had to obtain the poison from one man. He had to encourage another to add the poison to the king’s cup. The prince also had to convince servants in the know to remain silent.

  Mavrim was too weak to sit up most days, but he could still speak sometimes. He demanded that his servants stop the poisoner.

  It didn’t take long to realize that these were not his servants any longer. They belonged to his son. The loyalty of those in the castle had been shifting ever since Mavrim had linked the “prophet,” FLip Trange, to the statue he’d worshipped for years and ensured he was lifted out of the castle. The act itself had taken everything out of Mavrim, collapsing him.

  He had awoken in his chambers a day later. The poisoning began after, and he had not seen his son or his wife one time since. To them, he was already dead. He still wondered if they suspected that he had a hidden talent with Artistry and had used it to free FLip. But it seemed more likely that they wanted to get rid of him because of his compassion for the rebels.

  Mavrim didn’t care to see his son or wife anyway. There was only one person in the castle, no—in the world—who could save him now. Karlinda Orello, the wife of Mavrim’s son. She was not his wife by choice and had no power in the keep. Many years ago, she had gained the trust of Mavrim’s entire family. It was then that she made and followed through with a plan that resulted in the escape of DVend and Yune Quim from the dungeon in the capital. Karlinda knew she would suffer greatly for her actions. And she had.

  Her daughter, though, was the purest, most innocent child Mavrim had met. She was a source of light in this otherwise dark castle. Mavrim had to find a way to get to her mother, but Karlinda would probably be locked away until Mavrim died.

  It was clear to everyone that he and Karlinda had grown to trust each other over the years, for Mavrim openly scolded his son for mistreating his wife. It was even more obvious that Mavrim cared more for his granddaughter than for his son. Mavrim should’ve hid it better, but he had been arrogant. He’d thought no one could stab him in the back, for he was the king of all humans, the most powerful man in the world.

  There was only one thing keeping him alive. He liked to believe it was his determination, but it was not that in the slightest. He had made links between his body and the body of his servers. Whatever was killing him had to kill them as well for it to finally put him away for good. He continued to fear that someone would figure out what he was doing. Perhaps someone had, but they still hadn’t been able to counter Mavrim’s Artistry. Maybe revealing his secret would come back to hurt him, but he had to take that risk. He had to survive, and there was still a chance no one had figured out that he was an Ascendant. There were other logical conclusions that could be made to explain what had happened.

  Every servant who came to his chambers left sick. The rest of the castle’s inhabitants might assume the servants had caught whatever illness ailed Mavrim. It would be strange to them, no doubt, when the servants did not infect anyone else, or when they completely recovered. But again, Mavrim could not worry about this. He had to survive first.

  It was no easy task to link his body to another’s, especially the female servants whose bodies least resembled Mavrim’s. The task of eating sapped all his strength. Adding a link on top of that—a strained link that required constant focus—meant complete exhaustion at all times.

  Today was different, though. He’d refused all forms of drink for the whole day and commanded his male servant to remain in the room, close to his side. Many times the servant had complained that he was beginning to feel ill, but Mavrim threatened that his head would be removed if he disobeyed.

  Finally, Mavrim was feeling as if he might have enough strength to stand. His throat was so dry that he couldn’t speak but a few words at a time. He had tried and failed over the months to tell these servants to fetch Karlinda. They always said they would try, and he’d believed some of them. Something stopped them from getting to her, and then he never saw them again. He had come to terms with the fact that he was the only one who could get to her, for no one would physically stop the king.

  As much as he longed to be on his feet again, Mavrim also wanted to know what had happened outside his quarters in the months that had passed. FLip Trange, the grandson of the master mage KRenn Trange, had been taken into this castle as a boy. He’d been held here for nearly his entire life as punishment to his father, who had disobeyed Mavrim’s request for troops when it was time to stand against the Quim family. All of this history felt as though it described the life of a different king, one who would rather see the demise of his own country than pass the crown to any other man.

  Mavrim had changed. He was proud now, no
t of his family but of himself for standing against them. They would still destroy the kingdom over losing their ruling power, but he would save it. He had lifted FLip out of the castle because the nineteen-year-old boy was known as a prophet to the holymen and religious folk. Their flock would follow him anywhere, and there was only one place FLip could go. His escape meant he was now a rebel. He had to join the other rebels.

  Mavrim had not met this Analyte woman, Erisena, who most likely planned to dethrone him. He wondered if FLip had found her by now. Even if he hadn’t, FLip had to have gathered an army from his father’s generous estate. Perhaps his father was with him. If not, they might’ve had a struggle of their own as each fought for control of the religious folk.

  Mavrim knew he was currently the enemy of this unfolding tale, but he did not care so long as everyone found out the truth eventually. He longed for change. He was sick of murdering.

  He almost fell as he rose up from his bed.

  “Sire!” The servant tried to stand as well, but his weak legs betrayed him. He fell to the floor.

  Mavrim almost tripped over him as he forced his shaky legs to take one step at a time toward the door. His heart beat like a drum. Sweat drenched his forehead and back. He made it out of his chambers but stopped in fear as he came to the stairs. He might just die right here.

  His legs felt numb and uncoordinated, as if they belonged to another man. He tried to grab the railing for balance, but his grip was as feeble as a toddler’s.

  He took one step at a time, swaying. He would’ve shouted for Karlinda had he the voice. He felt as though he was going to pass out at any moment. Why wouldn’t his heart calm? His body ached for relief as if he’d just sprinted around the castle wall, but all he’d done was go down half a stairway.

  He was about to give up. There was no way he could find Karlinda. If anyone else saw him, though, they would think he was delirious and immediately tell the prince. Gavval would come and put him back to bed. Yes, he must give up before he died.

  Wait. There was one other person who might be able to help him. Where was she?

  He noticed sunlight coming in through one of the openings along the stairway. He knew where she should be at this time.

  Someone saw him and called out his name in question as he came to the bottom of the stairs.

  “I’m…fine,” he grumbled out in a voice that was not his own.

  “Someone get the prince! The king is sick and out of his bed!”

  “No.” He wheezed with pain. More were shouting now, but he could barely make out what they were saying. Someone put their hands on him. He wanted to make a link between his body and this woman’s, but he had barely enough energy to keep his head up to see where he was going. A group had surrounded him now, looking as if they wanted to stop him.

  “I’m fine!” he managed to squeak out.

  “You don’t look it, sire. Please.”

  “Die if…” Mavrim coughed and almost fell to his knees as he grabbed his throat. “Die if you touch me,” he wheezed out.

  Their hands came off him.

  He stumbled on with the hurry and determination of a man who’d lived past fate. The only reason he was still here was because he had a purpose. It was just a short walk down this hall to the lesson rooms.

  He had to move quickly. No one else tried to stop him with their hands, only their words. He heard none of it. He wished he had the breath to tell them that he was being poisoned and that someone had to stop it, but all that these lowly workers could do—even with genuine concern—was tell someone else. That person might tell another person, who might tell another. But even if the truth made it to the ears of someone with power, like a member of Mavrim’s family or his “trusted” council, then the news of his poisoning would vanish. He was already certain the servants had relayed his claims to whoever they could. It had done nothing.

  He had just enough breath left to make it to the one person who could reach Karlinda, but could he get the words out? Would this all be for nothing? If Karlinda eventually heard the truth, was there really anything she could do about it?

  No, but perhaps her daughter could on her own. Yes, it was up to Fyra now. Mavrim saw her in front of him as he stumbled into the lesson rooms where she and many other children had stopped writing at their little desks to stand and gawk at him.

  Fyra was the only one who ran toward him. The others backed away in obvious fear, some even screaming. He must’ve looked like death itself and probably stank like rot.

  “Grandfather!” She already had tears in her eyes.

  He put his hand on her little shoulder, for he had no strength to support himself. Her little knees buckled for a moment, but she stood and leaned close as if knowing he had very little time left.

  “He poisons me,” Mavrim whispered, though he wished he could shout it. “Help.”

  She gasped, then asked, “Who poisons you?”

  “My son!” Your father!

  He wasn’t sure he got the last words out.

  Everything went white. He felt himself falling and tried to lean the other away so as not to crush the innocent little girl.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEEN

  On the way to the Bookbinding Guild, Leo noticed a change among the people on the streets. They seemed less busy than usual. Many chatted outside shops. Others smoked pipes and made a seat out of barrels nearby. Whatever had caused this change seemed to be good news, as many of them held little smiles as if sharing a secret.

  Leo wished Rygen still worked at the guild with him. He didn’t know why, but Rygen always brought out Leo’s courage. If she was here, he would be brave enough to approach these grown men and women to ask what happened.

  When he arrived at his place of work, he set to completing his usual task that had become easy, but it unfortunately had also become boring. It was repetitive work, folding and piercing parchments, then looping thread to hold them together. He used to be proud that he was part of a team who made books, but that feeling had faded soon after Rygen left. Now he just worked for the coin.

  Leo heard the other workers gossiping about something when he entered. A few let out exclamations of surprise. Soon a small group had formed, drawing in nearly every worker there. Leo stopped his work to walk over and listen, but Gartel entered at that moment and everyone quickly returned to their tables.

  “It’s all right,” Gartel announced with a smile. “You’re all speaking about what happened last night, I presume?”

  “Do you know if it’s true?” asked one of the workers.

  “I just came from the commander’s office.” His smile widened. “It is true.”

  There was a commotion in response to the news, but they quickly quieted as they waited for Gartel to continue. Leo was curious about what had happened, but he was even more interested to find out more about the new commander. Was he good, like the last one? Or was he like Rhenol? He doubted people were talking about that, though.

  One of the workers said, “I heard he fought through twenty soldiers, but he killed none of them. Is that true?”

  “The commander wouldn’t tell me the exact number, but his embarrassment made it clear that twenty might be accurate.” Gartel made a sound Leo was certain he hadn’t heard the guild master make before. He let out a low laugh and suddenly looked years younger. “He took a horse and carriage out of the city and didn’t even kill a single guard who tried to slay him. He only disabled them or frightened them into giving up.”

  Leo lost his breath. It was his father they spoke about! The whole city seemed in on it, and all of them were amused? They must hate the soldiers as much as I do.

  “DVend Quim must still be the same swordsman he once was.” Gartel spoke as if telling a story. “I just wish I knew what he was doing here in Jatn. Apparently, he was with the rebels who were driven out. I asked the commander if he knew why DVend returned, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. It’s hard enough to get him involved in the investigation for my belongings. I doubt I’ll
ever find out anything about a rebel, but it’s good to know there are men like DVend Quim out there. There is still hope for change.”

  A hush fell over the large room. Many were nodding.

  Gods, my father is a hero to them.

  How strange it was to hear news about DVend Quim as if he was the hero Leo had read about. Leo’s father seemed like a different man than this swordsman who was hailed as the best in the world. But when Leo imagined his father attempting to escape with the horse and carriage that he’d previously purchased, it was easy to picture him getting out of the city no matter how many stood in his way. He had always done what he thought was right, and nothing had stopped him before. Except once, when he couldn’t find a healer to help Mother.

  Gartel looked right at Leo, making him aware of how red his cheeks must’ve been. He tried not to look like he knew a secret, peering away from Gartel. When Leo glanced up again, the guild master still had his gaze on Leo. A hard look came into Gartel’s eyes as he approached.

  “Leo, come with me.”

  Dutifully, Leo followed Gartel to his office where Gartel closed the door. Leo had never gone in here before. There wasn’t much in Gartel’s office beside his desk and some cabinets. From inside, Leo could see that there seemed to be something missing from the corner, where the wooden floor was cracked and scratched.

  The safe, Leo realized. Gartel has to look at its absence every time he’s in here.

  It would drive Leo to near madness.

  “I must apologize about something,” Gartel said to Leo’s surprise. Rather than take a seat behind his desk, Gartel leaned back against the front of it. “I was wrong before when I called your father a brute.”

  “Oh,” Leo blurted stupidly. He was unsure what to say, for his thoughts were still on his father’s little adventure last night. Leo hoped he had made it out of the city without harm. He figured there would be talk of his injury if Father had suffered one.

  “There’s no reason for you to pretend anymore,” Gartel said. “I know the truth now. I’m surprised you were able to keep this secret so well.”