Shadow (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #4): Bridge & Sword World

by JC Andrijeski

  “We can go back in now,” I told them.

  49

  DIFFERENT STRATEGY

  JON FROWNED, staring at his eight fingers splayed on the table in front of him.

  The table itself, an organic, and tinged green like the rest, glowed faintly under his pale hands, exuding a sickly light. Despite the sun-replicating lamps hanging from the ceiling, the organic’s light reflected on every face ringing the oval surface.

  He was pretty tired of living underground.

  He forced himself to focus on Vash as the old seer began wrapping up his remarks.

  “…Therefore,” he summarized serenely, completing a discourse involving inter-dimensional Barrier spaces that went over Jon’s head entirely. “I believe it is possible we have reached the limits of what we can do with him in this way.” His words grew serious, despite the inherent cheerfulness of his tone. “We continue to see scenes of war, but the images are no longer impacting him in a manner that is helpful for our purposes. As far as Tarsi and I can tell, they are doing nothing to open whatever it is he is protecting in his aleimi.”

  “Protecting in his aleimi?” Jon muttered. He looked up, hands still splayed on the table. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means, young cousin,” Vash responded politely, looking directly at Jon. “We cannot access the part of his light that is broken off from the rest. He is protecting it. And without that part of his light repaired, he will remain broken.” He made a more or less gesture with one hand. “…at least, for all intents and purposes. His protectiveness over this part of himself is preventing us from healing the main rift in his aleimi.”

  “He threw up a few times,” Dorje said, glancing at Balidor. The Adhipan leader didn’t appear to acknowledge him, so Dorje looked around at the others. “I had thought that indicated an emotional response of some kind. It seemed tied to the sessions.”

  “Indeed,” Vash conceded agreeably. “There is shame, yes. There is self-hatred for what he has done. He is not devoid of emotion, witnessing these scenes. But they do not hit at the core of what he is protecting. Shame alone is not sufficient to reach whatever it is that Alyson had been leading him towards.”

  Jon looked up, frowning. “You think she was on to something? Allie?”

  The seer met his gaze. “Most definitely. We both do, cousin. Tarsi and I believe that is the primary reason he drove her away so vehemently. She was getting too close to it, whatever it is, and he panicked.”

  Before Jon could fully absorb this, Vikram spoke up from the other side of the table.

  “What do you think it was?” he said. “Something about the war?”

  Vash made a polite gesture with one hand, but one that obviously meant “no.”

  “Something more personal than that, I suspect, brother.” His dark eyes shone in the glow of the table as he turned his head, looking at Tarsi. After a pause where something seemed to be communicated between them, he shrugged with one white hand, almost a seer apology.

  Tarsi spoke up next.

  “He won’t show us anything personal,” she said curtly. “He distracts us with the war––with his killing. Ironically, it is a part of himself he finds safer. He has, on some level, come to terms with the image of himself as a killer.”

  “I thought he was just being a prick,” Jon muttered, staring back at his hands. “Showing her all that crap about the women he seduced, and that teacher.”

  “He killed the teacher,” Tarsi interjected, causing all of them to turn. “He didn’t tell her that, did he?”

  At the silence around the table, Tarsi shrugged, her clear eyes sharp.

  “He didn't tell us that, either. We had that before,” she said, matter-of-fact. “There are records of Ewald Gottschalk with the authorities of the time. Just very few.”

  Leaning back in her chair, she gazed around at all of them.

  “He went to find her, like he told the Bridge,” she said. “But it was on his uncle’s orders. He killed her. And when her husband came home, he killed him, too. The difference is, this time, the local authorities caught him. They found him sitting on a stump outside their house, covered in blood. Holding a gun.” She glanced at Jon. “The blood was hers. He shot her at point-blank range. In the face. Then again in the chest.”

  Jon swallowed, feeling sick.

  He saw Tarsi glance at Balidor, her clear eyes tinted green in the odd lighting.

  “It’s one of the only records we have of him from that time,” she said. “From the humans, anyway. He was charged in the double-homicide, and spent a few weeks in jail before his uncle got him out for ‘health reasons,’ promising he wasn’t a flight risk. Before the trial could happen, his uncle faked his death, masking it as a terrorist attack by the French. Then he set fire to the police station where they had his photograph and fingerprints, and the bloody shirt as evidence. There’d be no record of the event at all, but one of the policemen had taken the hard-copy file of the incident details to another township to check it against other unsolved crimes. In his own words, something about the crime made him think it hadn’t been the first.”

  She paused, looking once more at Jon.

  “He thought him a monster. A kind of remorseless animal.”

  “A serial killer,” Jon clarified.

  “That would be the modern term, yes,” she conceded. “Needless to say, his death ended the inquiry. The policeman in question died not long after. I don’t know how the partial record escaped Menlim’s notice, but it did. Ewald Gottschalk’s remains were interred in a family plot, and that name never resurfaced again.”

  There was another silence.

  Jon looked up somewhere in it, glancing at the other faces. He couldn’t tell from their eyes if they were speaking in the Barrier or not. They all looked unhappy––all but Balidor, who wore no expression at all.

  “Did he lie to her on purpose?” Jon asked Tarsi finally.

  Tarsi shrugged, her eyes unmoving after they turned to his.

  “Don’t know,” she said. “Could be either. But it’s significant, either way.”

  Jon nodded, frowning. When no one broke the silence for another stretch of time, he glanced around the table.

  “Has anyone heard from her? Allie? Did she even make it to China?”

  “She did,” Vash acknowledged, smiling at Jon. “She made it there, and left shortly after. The others had already been released, including Cass and Baguen. Some agreement was struck between the Lao Hu and the remnants of the Rebels, who are now under the command of Wreg. Whatever it was, Voi Pai seemed content with the result.”

  Frowning, Jon stared at him. “Wreg? Did Allie run into him there?”

  “No.” Vash gestured reassuringly. “They had left well over a week before she got there.”

  “So where is she?” Jon said. “Did she say where she was going?” He paused, looking around at all of them. None would meet his gaze except Dorje, who squeezed his hand. “Are we really just going to let her go?”

  “What would you have us do, cousin?” Balidor asked quietly from the corner.

  Jon turned. It was the first time he’d heard the Adhipan leader speak.

  “Go after her,” Jon said. “Track her, at least!”

  That time Vash spoke, raising an apologetic hand. “She is the Bridge, Jonathan. It is not right that we do such a thing. Moreover, it is not practical. Brother Balidor taught her shielding well.”

  Jon frowned, then bit it back, looking around the table. “So where’s Cass? Baguen?”

  “We do not yet know,” Vash said.

  When Jon frowned, Vash smiled at him warmly.

  “I am certain she is perfectly fine,” the old seer said. “But they cannot come here, Jon. The Rebels would of course follow them. Wreg, in particular, would know she is close to Alyson and would keep a close watch on her, hoping she might lead him to us. We could not even tell her the location of this site, in the event they might be captured. Both she and Baguen knew this when they
agreed to go. They have likely gone to one of the safe zones we outlined for their use.”

  Jon was already nodding, waving off the old seer’s explanations.

  “Yeah,” he sighed, rubbing his face with his mutilated hand. “Got it.”

  “So what do we do? With the Sword?” Tenzi spoke from next to Balidor. He looked at Vash, then at Tarsi. “The Bridge may not return. We cannot wait for her, to rid the Sword of the Dreng. Eventually, they will find us here.”

  “Yes.” Vash nodded. “Both of these things are true.”

  “And?” Jon said. “There’s no solution, is that what you’re saying? We’re abandoning him? What’s the point of this stupid meeting, then?”

  Tarsi clicked at him. The sound was soft, but somehow, it got Jon to pull back his anger. Looking at those clear eyes, he remembered she’d once been in Balidor’s role, as head of the Adhipan. She was also Revik’s blood aunt.

  “Not abandoning anyone,” Tarsi warned. “Advocating a different strategy. One which requires others to help. At least one volunteer… possibly more.”

  “What kind of strategy?” Vikram said.

  Tarsi made a vague gesture with one hand, one Jon couldn’t interpret.

  “More aggressive,” she said. “More direct.”

  Wariness rose in Jon as he studied her glass-like eyes. “Aggressive, how?” he said. “Like, beat him up, aggressive?”

  He’d meant it as a not-funny joke, but the old seer’s expression grew thoughtful, just before she shrugged in Vash’s direction. Vash, too, merely raised an eyebrow, as if conceding a point.

  “You’re serious?” Jon said.

  “Not precisely that,” Vash said, holding up a calming hand. Then, thinking for a moment, he made another of those “more or less” gestures. “Perhaps imprecisely that. We believe he will be less able to block the two of us if he is sufficiently distracted.”

  “Distracted?” Jon gave an incredulous laugh. “Really?”

  Vash went on just as calmly. “If we distract him long enough from his attempts to block us, we might be able to circumvent them. The connection his wife created with him remains quite strong. Surprisingly so, considering her absence. We are able to reach his light, so the problem is not the same as what we encountered with him during the war.”

  Vash glanced around the table.

  “It would have to be sufficiently strenuous for him,” he added.

  “You mean… uncuff him?” Jon said.

  “It would be better, yes, young cousin,” Tarsi said.

  There was another silence.

  Then Jon gave a low laugh.

  “Who would be stupid enough to do that?” he said. “Have you forgotten who we’re dealing with? Or did you imagine we’d take him in turns, until he’d killed half of us, or we somehow managed to tire him out?”

  “I’ll do it,” a voice said.

  Jon turned, staring at the Adhipan leader’s face. Again, he’d barely noticed his silence until he’d broken it.

  Everyone else stared at Balidor, too.

  “‘Dori,” Jon said, exasperated. “You remember how Revik fights, right? You remember Maygar… how it took about ten of your guys to get him down?”

  “I said I’ll do it,” Balidor said, ignoring Jon as he met Tarsi’s gaze.

  Tarsi and Vash glanced at one another. Then they looked at Balidor somberly, as if assessing him with their eyes. In the end, Vash looked at Tarsi, as if deferring to her judgment.

  Tarsi gave a short nod. “I think he is the perfect choice, yes.”

  Her eyes sharpened on Balidor.

  “You cannot kill him,” she warned.

  Balidor gave a short laugh. “Understood.”

  “There is some risk. Your cousin is not wrong.”

  Balidor dismissed this with a gesture.

  Tenzi spoke up, frowning at Balidor. “What about the prostitutes?” he said.

  At Jon’s irritated look, the seer gestured apologetically.

  “I just meant, if we wanted to distract him, wouldn’t that work just as well? He asked for some, didn’t he? The Bridge approved the request. We would not need to risk brother Balidor then.” Tenzi gave Jon another apologetic look. “He is less likely to be suspicious. He asked for them, yes? He is expecting them?”

  Another silence fell, this one uncomfortable. In it, Jon felt every pair of eyes on him, as if waiting for him, personally, to approve that approach.

  After a pause, he sighed, clicking his tongue.

  “He’s refused them, since then,” he said, clearing his throat. “Honestly, I think he only said it to piss off Allie. Or maybe he got nervous when she left, I don’t know. But he hasn’t exactly been cooperative on that point since he read her letter.”

  Thinking, Jon gave a low grunt, folding his hands.

  “Hell,” he said. “I almost think it would be a good idea. He’s been a serious asshole lately… and that’s saying something.”

  When he glanced up, he found Vash smiling at him, his eyes holding understanding.

  “He said what he had to say,” the old seer nodded. “To get her to leave. It is a shame, really, that it worked. But perhaps she, too, had reached the limits of what she could accomplish on her own, without a different set of tactics to aid her.”

  Everyone looked at Balidor as the silence stretched.

  “So when do we begin?” the Adhipan leader said.

  50

  CONTEST

  JON LEANED OVER Dorje’s seat, peering through the green-tinted window.

  Like the others, his eyes were glued to the tank. Even when he wasn’t looking through the transparent pane, he found himself staring at the long monitor ringing the security station, offering different perspectives on the same view.

  Imaging devices covered every segment of the rectangular cell.

  Outside, where Jon was, those images merged together on a single, crescent-shaped pane, as thin as glass. They paused on Revik at different angles, and on Vash and Tarsi, who were already inside, sitting in the far corner of the room on thick prayer mats.

  The two old seers sat wrapped in heavy robes, eyes closed, faces smooth.

  Between them and the rest of the tank stood a thin, organic wall––not a Barrier shield, but a physical one, to keep them from being hurt. Dorje, who had programmed the wall into place the night before, told Jon it performed some energetic function, too––amplifying something, or maybe helping them connect to Revik’s light.

  Apparently, Tarsi provided the design.

  The camera angles shifted, moving to the opposite end of the room, including the hatch-like door and the corner across from it, which had another partitioning wall. That one had a toilet and shower behind it, remnants of Allie’s time in there.

  Jon had watched Revik stare at her when she retreated behind it, his eyes unmoving until she came back out again. Thinking about Vash’s words, about how he’d likely driven Allie away on purpose, after showing her more about his life than he seemed willing to show anyone else, Jon frowned, glancing at the man chained to the wall.

  It was hard to imagine that on some twisted level, Revik showing his wife scenes of him molesting women and whoring could be considered a sign of trust.

  Jon turned when the seers did, following Balidor’s approach to the outside hatch.

  Tenzi and Vikram unlocked the door, opening it for him, and Balidor entered without preamble, not looking back when they closed the thick organic behind him.

  He wore the same thing he always seemed to wear, what Jon was beginning to think of as the Adhipan uniform––dark pants, a gray-green shirt that probably had some kind of organic in the fabric, a heavier vest over that. He wore all but his boots, which he’d replaced with lighter black shoes. The fabric separated out each toe, with what looked like grips on the bottom.

  Jon watched as the Adhipan leader stopped midway into the tank, still about ten feet outside the protective circle drawn around Revik.

  He stood there, silent, wa
iting for Revik to acknowledge him.

  Jon saw the Elaerian’s eyes focus on Balidor, unwavering. He didn’t speak.

  “Nenzi.” The Adhipan leader’s voice was toneless, as if he were instructing a class. “I’m going to unchain you. You will have as long a time unchained as you can earn for yourself. In whatever way you earn it.”

  Revik stared up at him, eyes narrow.

  He glanced at Tarsi and Vash, who didn’t move, then back at Balidor.

  “They sent you to unchain me?” he said, his voice openly disbelieving. “Just how fucking stupid do you think I am?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  Revik’s jaw hardened.

  Balidor clicked softly, hands on his hips. His voice remained matter-of-fact.

  “Vash and Tarsi seem to think the usual methods are no longer working to reach through that cloud of fantasies and delusions you call your mind,” he said. “Therefore, I’m going to untie you. You are welcome to try and kill me. I suspect the outcome will be an education for you, though, brother. One, in my opinion, that is long overdue.”

  Balidor paused, his expression unmoving.

  “Make no mistake,” he added at Revik’s silence. “I think they are wasting their time. I think there is nothing of you to reach. If it were my choice, I would simply gut your mind. Leave you with only enough to keep your wife alive.”

  His voice grew openly contemptuous, enough to make Jon wince.

  “I will do you the favor of recommending you exercise some caution, little Nenz,” he added. “You have been sitting there for quite a long time. I would not be so sure you can best me without some reasonable effort on your part… all arrogance aside.”

  Revik’s face hadn’t moved, not once during Balidor’s speech.

  Jon saw something in his eyes at Balidor’s last words though, a thread of harder caution. He didn’t shift his gaze, but Jon could almost feel him sizing up the other seer, even as he continued to look for a lie in Balidor’s face.

  “Yes,” Balidor said, softer. “You are trying to remember if you have ever seen me fight before. If maybe you haven’t miscalculated, assuming you would always have the advantage, regardless of opponent. You are wondering if maybe you aren’t the only seer in existence who might have some skill at this sport… or at the very least, some formal training beyond scuffle fights in the yards of Seertown.”