“HISTALl!”
There was a hissing sound, like someone turning on a gas valve. Then, with a loud CRACK!, bolts of brilliant blue lightning arced from Mr. Spines’s outstretched fingers, slamming into Whiplash Scruggs with tremendous force.
The huge man barely had time to register what was happening before he was lifted off the ground and sent flying. He slammed into the far wall of the Jackal’s chamber with a tremendous crash.
The tiny body of Mr. Spines hit the marble floor with a lifeless thud. As he sank to the ground, the force of the words he’d left with Edward hit home. Edward realized that his father had given him one last gift.
He understood his father now more than he ever had. Once, long ago, his father had signed the contract with the Jackal for a chance to be with Edward’s mother. But when Mr. Spines had realized what he’d done, that it was the wrong way to get what he wanted, he’d chosento break the contract.
Edward stared down at the contract. His name was printed in scarlet ink just below his father’s. But now he saw it for what it truly was.
It was just a piece of paper. Even now, he still had a choice.
It wasn’t over.
The words of the poem his father had recited to him so long ago came back: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.
He always had a choice.
And remembering that made all the difference to Edward Macleod.
Whiplash Scruggs regained his footing just in time to hear the sound of something being ripped in half. Looking up, the immense Groundling saw Edward standing tall, one half of the ancient contract held in each of his hands.
The boy turned to look at Scruggs. All traces of blue were gone from his eyes.
Whiplash Scruggs stood, still smoking from where the lightning had struck. Melchior’s Word of Power had melted his mortal disguise. No longer did he look like a massive Kentucky plantation owner sporting a black goatee. Instead, what stood in Scruggs’s place was the being he truly was.
Beneath the layers of human costume was the blackened head of a bull. Where his eyes should have been were burning coals. His arms and chest were human, but his legs and feet were serpent’s coils. Cruel, twisted horns protruded from his blasphemous head. A crumpled, useless pair of leathery wings sat on his massive back, the only indication that he’d once been a Guardian.
The Groundling howled, a bellow filled with hate for all those who didn’t serve his cruel master, the Jackal. Then, with a roar, he slithered forward, his powerful hands extended toward Edward like bared claws. His eyes blazed with hatred, every fiber of his being intent on destroying the boy once and for all.
Edward stood his ground against the hideous beast. All fear was wiped from his mind. The voices of the Four still raged, but their words had no effect on him. No matter what they said he was, he knew that he could be whatever he chose to be.
And he chose to be a Guardian.
Chapter Twenty-One
SONG
When the horrible thing that had been Whiplash Scruggs was just ten feet away, Edward did something that he had never done before. He began to sing.
The melody started slowly, something light and nearly tuneless. But as he continued, not giving in to the insecurity that had always stopped him before, the melody took on a power all its own. The song grew, and it was a new song, one that he’d never been taught. He sang the words as they came into his mind and it became his own Song of Power.
As Scruggs leaped for Edward, bright chains appeared, woven from Edward’s melody, and bound him in place. The creature howled in frustration as he was lifted into the air, helpless.
The walls of the Jackal’s throne room began to shake. Edward continued to sing, a fierce joy radiating from the depths of his soul. Bridgette watched, stunned, as the ring from his mother’s hand slid from her finger and rose into the air. It pulsed with a soft, golden glow as it floated toward Edward. His father’s ring rose from Edward’s palm to meet it. As the song continued, the rings grew in size, becoming twin halos of blue fire that settled above Edward’s head.
The song took on new power and strength. Edward’s ebony wings stretched out on either side of him and he rose into the air like a majestic bird. His face shone with a joy so bright that it cast shadows on the room, making everything the Jackal possessed look worn and tattered.
Swarms of Groundlings, alerted by the rumbling in the Jackal’s chamber, rushed into the room with weapons drawn. But when they saw Edward, they faltered, not knowing what to do.
Their blue eyes grew wide as they saw Scruggs, writhing and bellowing in his glowing chains. They stared, stunned, as pieces of the walls chipped and fell to the marble floor. Doom had come upon them, and for the first time since they fell, a new fear reigned in their hearts. One that suggested that they might not prevail after all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ARMY
Jack and his army of young Guardians camped in front of the glowing force field at the border of the Jackal’s fortress. They had arrived forty-five minutes earlier, but had been stopped by the nearly transparent barrier that threatened to destroy their wings, or worse.
And so they waited, not knowing what would happen, but having faith that something would.
And something did.
The force of Edward’s Song of Power radiated outward, dissolving the barrier that surrounded the fortress. The army stood, dumbfounded, as the terrifying wall melted away and revealed the Jackal’s Lair standing before them, unguarded.
There was a tremendous shout, and then, with a mighty flap of wings, the troop of young Guardians took to the air.
The miles of earth that were above Edward gave way to the powerful melody. With a tremendous CRACK!,the ground spilt open, sending rays of sunlight into the shadowy depths of the Jackal’s Lair. The assembled Groundlings hid their eyes as the piercing sunlight split the darkness. Guardians poured through the crack, singing at the top of their lungs, their rings ablaze with blue fire.
The sight of their hated foes urged the Groundling forces on. As one, the assembled throng shouted “NSH!” and raised their flaming Oroboruses, ready to fight for their lives.
Seconds later, the room was filled with deadly arcs of blue and red fire. A thunderous BOOM! rocked the cavern as the enemy forces collided, shaking the Jackal’s fortress to its core.
Edward knew what he had to do. Leaving the Guardians to deal with the hordes of terrified Groundlings, he moved to the golden door behind the Jackal’s throne. It was time to confront the being behind it all, the one responsible for all the pain Edward and the residents of the Woodbine had endured.
The door gave way at his touch and, still singing, he entered the forbidden chamber.
The chamber was dark, making it difficult for Edward to see. He felt his way forward, resting his hand against a nearby wall. The moment his fingers brushed it, he recoiled. The surface was warm, pulsing with what felt like a living heartbeat!
As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw that, instead of stone, the chamber seemed to be made of living tissue. It quivered, sending some kind of power to the twisted thing that crouched in the center of the room.
Whatever Edward had imagined the Jackal to look like, it wasn’t this. He had expected something like Whiplash Scruggs or Henry and Lilith.
This was something else. An abomination.
What he saw reminded him of the machines the students at the Foundry had been forced to repair. Rusted gauges released pressurized steam. Ge
ars spun and driveshafts turned.
There was the sound of a bellows inflating, and a reedy laugh, like the cackle of a wild dog, filled the air. In the center of the machine, a lidless orb swiveled around and focused on him. As it did, Edward knew with certainty that the eye, the only part of the Jackal that wasn’t made of machinery, recognized him.
Edward gazed in horror at this, the Jackal’s remains, suddenly aware that his lips were moving but no sound was coming out. From somewhere in the darkness he heard the whine of a turbine engine powering up. Deep inside, he felt certain that the Jackal was about to unleash every bit of evil power he had to defend himself. He had no idea what form it would take or what kind of torture the Jackal would inflict upon him. All he knew was that if he didn’t do something quickly, it would all be over.
Edward lifted his voice without hesitation, trusting that whatever song came to his lips would be the right one. He halfway intended to repeat what he’d sung in the chamber outside. But at the last moment, something inside of him decided differently. A brand-new melody came unbidden to his lips. To his surprise, what emerged was an Aria, the highest form of Guardian song. It was a rare and wonderful kind of music that only a few were capable of singing properly. The words and melody to this particular Aria hadn’t been heard in over ten thousand years.
The melody filled the room, the pure notes twisting inside and around each other, making an unearthly harmony.
The words of the song filled the Jackal with a level of fear and dread he’d never felt before. Of all the attacks he’d expected to face from his enemy, this was the one thing he could never have prepared for!
It was impossible! The boy was singing a song that the Jackal himself had written long ago, before he’d fallen from the Higher Places. It was a Song of Power that had been lost in the eons of time, that had not been known since the Jackal had gone by a different name and led the Guardian choirs. Images from that time filled the Jackal’s consciousness; long forgotten memories of the time when he had been the highest, most beloved Guardian.
The words of the ancient song spoke of love, redemption, forgiveness, and restoration. They were powerful qualities the Jackal had abandoned when he fell, cursing such attributes as weakness. In his quest for power, he’d turned from that beauty and traded it for ashes and dust.
As the boy sang, the Jackal knew that his doom had come. In spite of everything he’d planned, the Bridge Builder had not been stopped. The boy was using what the Jackal had once been to defeat him, and there was nothing he could do to stand against it.
The Jackal’s eye swiveled in its metal socket, rolling with fear. His metal valves hissed and the mechanical marvels that allowed him to hear and process the song ground to a screeching halt. The song was all around him now, and its power was far greater than any he’d ever faced.
Rusted bolts shot from his metal casings and steam burst from his broken valves. He tried to muster his dark power but found that he could not. The song was too strong!
A hissing scream escaped from his bellows and dread filled what remained of his tattered soul.
As the song continued to build, rays of light burst from Edward’s fingertips, shooting directly into the heart of the black machinery. Edward could feel the power surging through his arms and fingers, a light tingle that made every nerve in his body feel wonderfully alive.
He knew with certainty that what he sang was more powerful than any of the Ten Words of Power, that this time using such powerful magic wouldn’t deplete him.
The song redoubled in intensity, rising to a higher pitch. Edward could feel the power building around him, electrifying the air. The hairs on his arms and neck were standing on end. And as he sang, a tremendous joy filled his heart.
Edward felt love and compassion like he’d never known before. It was love without condition. He was filled with love for his parents and his loyal friends. But the song made him feel love that extended even to those who had intended him harm. He suddenly wished that they could understand, could step out of the darkness that blinded them and embrace what was good and true.
As Edward’s song crescendoed, the Jackal’s machine flew apart. Twisted metal and melted cogs shot in all directions. Edward was flung backward under the impact. As he fell, he wrapped his wings protectively around himself. He crashed to the ground as a shower of broken metal and rusted parts cascaded down around him.
As the last pieces clattered to the ground, Edward lifted his head from under his wing and gazed around at the wreckage. The pulsing walls that had seemed to be made of flesh were now ordinary stone. His eyes traveled to the corner of the room. Amid the rubble, a broken bellows collapsed with a soft wheezing sound.
It was the Jackal’s dying breath.
Edward stood up and carefully examined all of the metal wreckage. He could find no trace of the yellow eye. Edward couldn’t help wondering if the thing had gone to Specter’s Hollow, and if it had, what unimaginable fears it might face when it got there.
Outside, in the Jackal’s throne room, rock and debris rained down upon the two armies. The Lair was falling apart! As their dark kingdom crumbled, the Groundlings shrieked and threw down their weapons. The crumbling Lair could only mean that their master’s doom had come, and without his dark power to command them, most of the Groundlings lost whatever amount of courage they had possessed.
The few that resisted were dispatched. Joyce and Tabitha had trained their new recruits well! The rings hit their targets with unswerving accuracy.
Edward reentered the Jackal’s throne room just in time to see Bridgette approach the writhing form of what had once been Whiplash Scruggs. When the beast saw what she carried, he let out a long, enraged howl. The girl lifted the silver shears to the crumpled, useless wings on his back and said, “It’s time to face your fears and join your master, Moloc.”
And with two quick snips, the terrible creature was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
MOTHER
With the Jackal destroyed, the impenetrable magic that surrounded Sarah Macleod’s cage faded away and Edward’s mother awoke from her long, enchanted sleep. She sat up in her cage and stared at the Guardians gathered around her.
Sarah noticed a majestic-looking Guardian nearby. He was crouched down over a small, crumpled body on the marble floor. The boy reminded her of someone. The Guardian stood and turned, and she saw who it was.
Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes as her son approached her gilded cage. Edward beamed at her, his face radiant with barely contained joy. He reached into his pocket and produced the magical key that Cornelius had given him. In his panic earlier, he had forgotten that he had it. A lock materialized within the bars and he inserted it.
With a small click, the bars swung open.
Edward took his mother’s hand and helped her out of the cage. Sarah looked up at her son, taking in his dark hair and eyes, and marveling at the huge wings that hung from his shoulders.
She held her hands to her mouth as grateful tears cascaded down her cheeks. Every Guardian and mortal who had come to Edward’s aid stood in awed silence as the Bridge Builder and the Blue Lady stared into each other’s eyes.
A smile like a dazzling sunrise played on Edward’s lips. Gripping his mother in a gentle hug, he whispered, “Hi, Mom.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
BRIDGES
At no time in the Woodbine’s history had a bigger crowd assembled. Word had spread quickly of the Jackal’s defeat. The news that the Bridge Builder had come and was going to repair the bridges between the worlds was on everyone’s lips. Guardians and mortals stretched to the horizon, as far as the eye could see, waiting for Edward.
Edward allowed his mother to buckle the final strap on his new Guardian armor. It was made of white scales and shimmered in the afternoon sunlight.
“You look so much like your father,” Sarah said.
Edward glanced over at her and smiled. She looked beautiful, dressed in a royal blue gown and wearing a sil
ver circlet upon her head.
“I wish he were here with us,” Edward said wistfully.
“Oh, but he is,” said a second voice. Edward turned to see Jack the faun approaching. “Well, he’s not far, anyway. Tollers got word from Specter’s Hollow a few hours ago. Melchior passed through almost immediately. He’s probably waiting for you in the Higher Places even as we speak.”
Edward’s heart pounded with excitement. After the bridges were rebuilt, they would truly be a family.
A Guardian with short, cropped hair and beautiful pink wings ran up to Edward. She gave his armor an appraising glance and nodded appreciatively.
“Now that’s more like it! Much better than that old sweater!”
Edward beamed at her. “Thanks,” he said. “By the way, how are the wings?”
Tabitha gave them an experimental flap. “Better than ever!” she exclaimed. “Thanks for leading the choir in that unusual Restoration Song of yours. Where did you learn it? You’ll have to teach it to me sometime.”
“I would if I could,” Edward said with a smile. “But most of the time, I just sing whatever pops into my mind.”
Suddenly the sound of a trumpet blast split the air.
“It’s time!” Jack said with a grin. “Let’s go show that Guardian Council something they’ll never forget, eh?” He winked up at Edward.
Edward’s stomach was full of butterflies. As he followed Jack, he noticed that Bridgette was nowhere to be seen. Concerned, he pulled Tabitha aside and whispered, “Have you seen Bridgette?”
The Guardian shook her head. “The last time I saw her was after we left the Jackal’s fortress.”
Edward continued to walk, growing more and more concerned. Where was she? Had something happened? His brown eyes scanned the crowd. There were mortals of all shapes, sizes, and appearances. He spotted the praying mantis in her flowing Chinese robes and the group of Swiss army horned unicorns who he’d seen at the Dancing Faun when he’d first arrived in the Woodbine. They waved at him and he returned the wave with a smile. Then, just as he approached the crest of a hill, he spotted her. She was standing off from the crowd, beneath a tall tree.
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