Rook (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #1): Bridge & Sword World

by JC Andrijeski

Thinking aloud, I said, “So when he was a Rook, what he did seemed normal. Moral even. And when he left…”

  “It seemed less so, yes.” Vash placed his palms on robed knees, nodding. “Further, upon leaving the Pyramid, one experiences a severe loss of power. The Pyramid culls skills and raw talent from all of its members, creating a sort of ‘library’ by which any of the beings inside can access the skills of all the others. Losing access to those shared pools of light and skill can be quite difficult… even painful. It is another reason seers don’t often leave. The Pyramid acts as a great amplifier. It is also a distributor according to moment, status and need… of light and its structures, or aleimi, as we call it.”

  “So,” I said, fighting to keep up. “Inside the Pyramid, you can access the ability of any seer inside it? Even if you never had that ability before?”

  Vash nodded, taking another sip of tea.

  “Wouldn’t that make them all, like… super-seers?”

  “In a way… yes.” Vash set his cup on its china saucer, clearly amused by this idea. “There are limits, of course. One must know how to access particular skills in the first place. Therefore, knowledge is required, especially for more complex abilities. We believe skill sets are further stratified by the hierarchy itself, with some being reserved for use only by those at the top.

  “Your husband was a strong seer in his own right,” Vash added. “But he was much, much more powerful when he had access to the light and abilities of tens of thousands of other seers.” Patting my knee, Vash smiled. “You can see now, also, why a telekinetic seer might appeal to them, Esteemed Friend…?”

  I nodded. “So why did he leave?”

  Vash sighed. “Do you really need to ask me that?”

  “Well, yeah. If he was brainwashed, then—”

  Vash waved a hand. “Suffice it to say, it is possible to experience moments of clarity no matter where you are.”

  At my silence, he shrugged. “The Rooks have been quite shrewd in recruiting seers who fill out those skill sets they lack. Like any beings, we each have our own gifts and aptitudes, and they vary. Imagine if you could paint like DaVinci, have the mind of a Marie Curie or an Einstein, the oratory skills of a Martin Luther King. For seers, it is much the same. It is a tremendous loss to give this up.” He added, “It can also debilitate the minds of lesser seers to realize that what they had come to think of as their own was indeed never really theirs at all.”

  I nodded. “Got it. So as Rooks, they’re crazy strong. And if they leave—”

  Vash laughed. “Alyson! You misunderstand. I was trying to tell you that this power of theirs is, in the main, illusory. It comes from the symbiotic nature of the Pyramid itself. It does not belong to the individual seers, who are themselves quite ordinary.” Vash gave a graceful shrug, his dark eyes holding a glimmer of sadness. “I also wished you to understand something of your husband, and the kind of man he would need to be to leave them, after he had been living inside that structure for over thirty years.”

  I felt anger from Maygar’s corner and ignored it.

  Outside the open windows, rain pattered on bamboo and slate tile roofs. A golden-colored eagle wheeled past one window, dark against the sky. When I looked at Vash, he was watching me with compassion in his eyes.

  I cleared my throat. “If he were reconnected with them. To the Pyramid. Could he be, well… stuck?” I clenched my jaw when the old man’s gaze didn’t waver. “Could he get stuck there, somehow. Even if he died?”

  Vash looked up at the ceiling, eyes thoughtful. “It is a good question.” He leaned back in his seat, holding his knees. “What do you think?”

  My throat closed. “I don’t know. It feels like he is.”

  Vash studied my face. “I see. Well, it would not be ideal to leave him there, would it?”

  I shook my head, my jaw still hard. “No.”

  After another beat, he laid a hand on my leg.

  “Alyson,” he said. “You found the Head of the Rooks’ network.” He paused, his silence questioning. “Chandre told us this as well. You did not simply get close. You found him. This is very significant to us.”

  The room grew utterly silent.

  Glancing around, I saw skepticism, fear, even wonder, in the eyes of the seers sitting around me and Vash. Even Maygar stared at my face, his expression showing a kind of dumbfounded shock.

  “Yeah,” I said, looking back at my coffee. “I guess I did. More or less. I don’t know who he is on the outside, though. Outside the Barrier, I mean.”

  “Could you show us?” Vash said.

  I sighed. I looked at Maygar, and saw the skepticism had returned to his eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said, watching him stare at me. “Sure. No problem.”

  37

  BROTHER

  LESS THAN AN hour later, I lay on a beat up recliner in the same building, staring up at a water-damaged ceiling. Beside me paced Maygar. Another seer attached electrodes to my face and arms. I winced as he pressed down on bruised parts of my skin.

  “Tell me something,” I said. “This war––”

  “It is only the most likely of outcomes,” Maygar said, giving a dismissive wave.

  “So not inevitable?”

  “No.” He gave me another look, that one slightly less hard. “I would have said differently before. I would have said it’s not about death, but rebirth. That the Bridge doesn’t cause war. That her being here merely signals it’s time for it to begin.”

  He ran a thumb lightly over his bicep. I noticed a tattoo there. His knuckles were bruised too, probably from connecting with my face.

  He cleared his throat. I looked up.

  He was focused on my mouth, not hiding the meaning behind his stare.

  When I rolled my eyes, he only smiled.

  “There’s even some who say Death comes,” he added. “Syrimne d’ Gaos. ‘Sword of the Gods.’ It’s where that other seer got his name, the one during World War I. It’s also the meaning of the sword and sun you see drawn on the temple door. And on me.” He lifted his shirt’s sleeve, showing me the full tattoo of the bisected blue sun on his arm. “This is a terrorist’s mark, Bridge. A real one.”

  He grinned at my unimpressed look.

  “The real Death,” he added. “The real Syrimne… he’s supposed to be a creature like you.” He gestured with one thick hand. “…A brother, as it were.”

  My hands tightened on the chair.

  Maygar shrugged again, his voice bored.

  “I’ve also read interpretations that perhaps he’s the one as causes the shift,” he added. “But Bridge, the end of every cycle is a mystery. There are too many variables. Even humans have free will.” He glanced to where James, the robed human from reception, stood talking to Chandre by the door, smiling at her with obvious adoration in his eyes.

  “In theory, at least,” Maygar muttered.

  I frowned, glancing at James, too. “So what are you doing to fight the Rooks? Your people. The badass terrorists.”

  Maygar snorted a laugh. “You wouldn’t understand, Bridge.”

  “Try me.” When he raised an eyebrow, I shook my head, sinking it back into the recliner. “Forget it. You’re probably right.”

  “Why do you even care, Bridge?” His voice held a tinge of real curiosity. “You were raised human. You are untrained, so you do not yet see all of these things we see. Is this all just revenge to you? For your family? Your mate?” He spat out the last word. “Is it some hero complex? Boredom? What?”

  I frowned. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about his words.

  “People feel it, too,” I said after a pause. “Humans, I mean. They don’t know what it is, but they feel it. They feel that things are wrong. They feel their world dying.” Turning my head, I met his gaze. “I want a break in the clouds. A real one. If we took down the Rooks, maybe we would get that. Maybe there wouldn’t need to be a war.”

  He just looked at me, then gave another grunting laugh.

&
nbsp; “A break in the clouds. I like that, Bridge.” His face opened a bit more, his expression almost friendly. “You asked what we are doing? Right now, we are trying to crack their hierarchy. The one Vash described to you. We look for ‘the break in the clouds,’ too.” He smiled down at me. “There are rumors that an order exists behind the rotating top tiers. That the succession order is mapped. Not random. Do you understand this?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Maygar’s eyes grew sharper when they met mine. I recognized that look from Revik; it was a hunter’s look. It also meant he didn’t believe me.

  Realizing I’d been holding out on him a little, I shrugged.

  “Eliah may have mentioned it. When he found out I was screwing around with the Rooks’ network, he seemed convinced that’s what I was after.”

  Seeing Maygar’s eyebrow go up, I rolled my eyes.

  “I still don’t know what it is, Maygar,” I said flatly.

  He gave me another skeptical smile, shrugging with one hand.

  “It is exactly what it sounds like, Bridge,” he said. “It is a map of the succession order for the Rooks’ hierarchy. A map of the succession order would detail when and how each individual Rook ascends in that hierarchy to the spot above. Like when your American president dies. There is a list of who takes his place after, right?”

  “Okay,” I said, thinking. “That makes sense.”

  Maygar smiled wider, clicking at me softly. “This thing you were pursuing in your ‘spare time,’ Esteemed Bridge? It is what every Rook in the network would pay all of their fortune to obtain. Hell, any in the Seven would.”

  “Why?” I frowned. “I mean, I get it, you could assassinate people at the higher levels, but what’s to stop them from being replaced?”

  Maygar rolled his eyes. Unfolding his muscular arms, he used his light to draw an image of the Pyramid in my mind. Thrusting it forward invasively, he highlighted the node at its apex.

  “The Head, understand?” When I nodded, he said, “This man at the top, he is the only one who connects directly to the Dreng. The only link between the Dreng and Earth.”

  I nodded again, to show him I was following.

  “He connects the rest to the Dreng,” Maygar added. “He also distributes the light, the skill sets, everything. To randomize the succession order, it is his protection, right? Without that, what’s to stop one of the other Rooks from stealing this top spot from him?”

  I waited, figuring it was a rhetorical question.

  Maygar smiled again, maybe because he heard me.

  “The top of the Pyramid, it has a rotating hierarchy.” Using his light, Maygar highlighted the top tiers. They began a jerky dance.

  I recognized that, too.

  “You see how at any moment,” Maygar added. “A different seer falls into the position directly below the Head?”

  I nodded again.

  “This is to prevent assassination, Bridge. If you are big number two Rook, and you kill the Head but don’t take his place, you can bet whoever does is going to take you out. But…” He lit up the top tier once more. “…If you know the succession order, you can coup the big honcho right when you are about to take his place. Or make a deal with the one who does.”

  He smiled, clicking again softly.

  “But Bridge,” he said. “We could do the same. There is a gap after the Head dies, when the Dreng are not connected to our world. The Pyramid is vulnerable then.”

  “How long?” I said.

  “Two… maybe three minutes to connect the new Head.”

  At his meaningful stare, I sighed.

  “Two minutes isn’t very long,” I pointed out.

  Maygar laughed. “It was long enough for me to smack you down this morning!” When my face warmed, he smiled. “Of course, for any of that to be feasible, we would need to know who the current Head is. That is his other protection, Bridge. Anonymity.” He pointed at me, his lips curling in a frown. “This is where you come in. Providing you can deliver on what you say. Your Rook husband never could. Despite all his bullshit.”

  My jaw hardened. “I already said I don’t know who he is in outside.”

  “Well, you should, if you found him in the Barrier.”

  I grunted. “Should I?” I said dryly. “None of you jackasses could find him at all. And I’m untrained, human-raised worm-girl. How is it I’m the one who should be embarrassed?”

  Maygar stared at me, his dark eyes holding disbelief.

  Vash’s voice rose in my mind, clear as a loudspeaker.

  We are ready, he said. You are on point, Maygar.

  Maygar leaned closer to me. His voice grew soft.

  “A little touchy about the husband, aren’t you, Bridge?” he whispered.

  Alyson? Vash sent. Are you ready?

  Maygar straightened back to his full height, a grin tugging at his lips. His eyes met mine, a dark eyebrow quirking in a silent question.

  “Yeah,” I said, swallowing my anger. “I’m ready.”

  38

  HUNT

  SLOWLY, THERE ARE stars.

  Earth appears, a pale blue dot.

  It zooms closer, until it dominates my view.

  It is beautiful, especially here, but I scarcely look at it. Urgency powers me, beyond what I’ve promised Vash. I feel the Rooks everywhere now. I feel them around Revik, whatever remains of him in this place. I feel them in the shadow they lay over the Earth.

  Once I focus on them here, they are all I see.

  Metallic threads cross and intersect over land masses in thick, silver piles. The Pyramid moves like a mechanical toy at the top. Rigid. Dark. I watch the nodes dance as the pieces change hands, change places, until I hear a faint whisper of—

  Well?

  I turn, startled. I forgot I’m not alone.

  Maygar floats beside me. We are waiting, Bridge.

  It happened differently before, I explain. This is new. This view of them, I mean. Before, when I focused on Haldren, I was just there… in the Pyramid with him. I’m wondering if having all of you here is changing the frequency somehow.

  His tone turns acidic. Is this your first jump?

  His question confuses me. No.

  Then you should know nothing happens the same way twice in the Barrier. His thoughts hold the distinct flavor of contempt. For that to be, all other creatures would need to be static. And yes, of course––having us here will change things. You must compensate. You must do as we do. Follow the thread, Bridge. Hunt.

  I’ve heard this song and dance before. From Revik. From Chandre.

  Variations of the same speech. All saying roughly the same thing.

  It doesn’t bother me anymore.

  I have done this without Revik. I’ve done it without Chandre or Vash. I’ve definitely done it without this asshole, Maygar, who wants sex with me and to beat on me only because he has some kind of monster grudge against Revik.

  Maygar hears me, and his amusement returns.

  Not only for that, Bridge, he says.

  Pushing his mind aside, I focus back on why we’re here.

  For the second time in this jump, I concentrate on Haldren.

  I focus on his face––the clear, confident voice that rises above the crowd. In my mind, I see the darkly burning eyes, his laugh, the beard he grew after he left adolescence.

  I remember other things, too. Things no one else saw.

  I remember waking in the middle of the night, hearing his shuddering sobs from the guest bedroom after we first let him stay with us. I remember him acting out, testing us, to see if we’d let him stay. I remember his crush on my lab partner, Massani. I remember his fear of the other children after we persuade him to attend school. I remember his need to control them.

  I remember watching his discovery that he could.

  I remember smaller things. The way he snorts when he laughs, cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous. I remember that he likes to read poetry, and take baths.

  I
remember so much. I know too much.

  I’ve learned to let that go, too. Not all questions need answers.

  Not all answers really tell us anything we need to know.

  Slowly, the Earth begins to rotate beneath my feet.

  It rotates backwards, in the wrong direction.

  The sun and planets revolve backwards as well, west to east, in oiled precision. I half-expect to hear beautiful music, like when my father and I viewed a miniature version of Earth’s constellations sliding in rich ovals on smooth brass rails. In my mind’s eye, my father laughs there still, delighted by the beauty of the kinetic sculpture.

  “Music of the spheres, Allie!” he says, patting my back with his large hand. “Music of the spheres! Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Light grows brighter over the Earth. The wires of the Pyramid grow less around our little blue and white world. The dark threads unwind like a ball of yarn teased by a cat, and I can breathe again, in a way I don’t remember breathing before.

  Abruptly, the motion stops.

  Earth begins revolving forward once more, with effort at first, like gears grinding back into their natural motion. It is slow, like I say––yet fast, too. Regular time, which passes changing everything, so that we lose ourselves, so that we don’t recognize one another.

  Instead of the Pyramid, a gray cloud masses over Europe.

  There, I say to Maygar, pointing with my mind.

  I feel him acknowledge me.

  Something shifts. It is not even a full breath. It is silent, near-instantaneous.

  When it is done, he and I stand on that earlier version of Earth. Our light feet rest on a grassy, leaf-strewn hill dotted with aspens.

  Below us, a circle of black mud runs before a row of whitewashed buildings. The mud is thick, grooved with wheel ruts. In the distance I see more buildings, what look like barracks, and below that, men in gray-green uniforms and cloth caps march in formation. Their boots and pants are covered in mud too, and horse manure. Most are carrying guns.

  I recognize the uniforms in a vague kind of way, not well enough to—

  SS, Maygar sends my way. Contempt drips from his light. Didn’t your husband teach you? They are Schutzstaffel, Frau Dehgoies.