Red Gold Bridge

by Sarath, Patrice

  Their guards pushed them forward, and they stumbled a few steps to the morrim, looking up at it. Climbing up would be a bitch, Joe thought. The rock pile looked half-supported by the ropy vines and roots, and he thought he could see some three-leaved poison ivy to boot. Crap. He hoped Hare didn’t want them to go up there.

  “So what do you think?” Joe said to Arrim in a low voice.

  “Hey!” Mark shouted. He turned toward them, slightly raising the rifle. “No talking!”

  Joe almost threw his hands into the air with frustration. He looked at Hare. “What do you want, Hare? You want us to control your gordath, then you have to let us work together.”

  Hare looked mad enough to shoot Mark then and there. Nonetheless, he had to save face. “You talk when I say you can talk, Aeritan.” He looked at Mark. “Take the rear guard; shoot anything that comes along.”

  Mark looked like he wanted to protest, and then he made a face and went back down the trail to stand a useless sentry watch. Joe watched as the Brythern lord rolled his eyes but then looked back at his two captives. “All right. What can you tell me?”

  It was the first time since their kidnapping that they had relative privacy. Joe ignored Hare’s question.

  “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You okay? You hanging in there?”

  “Forest god,” Arrim muttered. “How can you take it?”

  “It sucks, but it keeps them happy,” Joe muttered back. “Look, whatever happens, we can’t open their gordath.”

  “I know.”

  “No games, Guardians,” Hare warned from a few steps away. He was getting nervous, Joe realized. He was probably already regretting his decision to let them talk. Joe tilted his head back and focused on the morrim. Under the sounds of the rustling forest, the whir of insects, and the movements of their guard behind them, he could hear the whispering of the morrim, like a radio out of tune. It was maddening the way it stayed on the edge of his hearing, static and words he strained to make out, even though he knew that it was not a language that he knew. Another indication the gordath was alive—the damn thing talked.

  Now he could feel the air that came down from the rocky slope. It was cool and smelled ancient, as if it came from a place that existed long ago. Millions of years ago, this granite boulder had been flung up from the earth. At least, back home it was. Here, who knew?

  The humming intensified, and he drew nearer so that he stood almost directly beneath the morrim. Behind him he could hear Hare shout a warning, but it was so far away he ignored it. The supporting boulders were dug into the side of the slope, and now he could see how the morrim was cradled on them, almost gently. He climbed a few feet, pulling himself up the vines. If he reached up, he could almost touch . . .

  Joe yanked his hand back, scrabbling backward and losing his footing so that he fell on the trail. He looked at his hand, half expecting to see it was glowing or burned from his direct contact with the energy. It was the same as always: dirty, rough, and worn. It tingled, though, as if it had fallen asleep.

  “What!?” That was Hare and Arrim both. Joe panted and got to his feet, trying to get his heart to slow down, to beat to a regular rhythm. He ignored Hare and looked at Arrim.

  “I think I felt the gordath directly.”

  If the morrim were the anchors, the gordath was the sail that stretched between them like a spiderweb. Joe knew what he felt was one of the lines that held the gordath in place. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see the line of energy that stretched from morrim to gordath, a dark pulse running beneath the surface. He turned and followed the direction his senses told him. It led deeper into these strange woods that were scruffier, harder, less lush than Gordath Wood proper. The gordath was that way. They had felt it open all the way in Aeritan. No wonder they hadn’t been able to close it; they weren’t anywhere near it.

  Hare came up next to him and looked up at the pile of rock above them, and for once he looked keenly interested in something other than his men, his mission, or making it clear who was in charge.

  “Can anyone touch it?” the Brythern lord asked.

  Joe and Arrim looked at each other. Maybe the morrim would recognize a nonguardian and zap his ass to kingdom come. Or more likely, it would know it had nothing to fear from the man and reserve its malevolence for the ones it knew could contain it.

  “Much as I don’t care where you stick your hand, better not,” Joe said finally. “You might screw something up.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed.

  “Well,” Joe said, “you best show us where this brand-new gordath of yours is.”

  They didn’t really need Hare’s help. As if touching the lines had awakened something, Joe could practically follow the energy beneath their feet. But he figured the Brytherners didn’t need to know that.

  The power hummed beneath his boots and into his body, making his ribs ache deeply. It was hard to draw a breath. Dammit, he needed to talk things over with Arrim. He looked at the other guardian. Arrim walked carefully, one foot in front of the other, and Joe knew he was pacing the line.

  It was so close to the surface, he thought. The lines in the old gordath were so deep and ancient they could be barely sensed. This was new, and it made him uneasy.

  He had been yanking the Brytherner’s chain when he told him he and Arrim had to be able to work together to control this new gordath, but he had a feeling that he might have been right—and it might still be more than they could handle.

  And if we turn out to be useless, we—and the whole world—could be in some serious shit.

  After several hours of walking, it was as if they had reentered Gordath Wood. The air cooled a bit as the tall trees closed out the sun. Joe could hear water falling somewhere and licked his lips, cracked and broken from not enough water, food, or care. The forest got wet again, the loamy soil rich with nutrients. The trail wound down deeper into the woods, and a little pool emerged at the bottom of a hollow, ferns dripping down the cliff sides into the water. He could see dark shadows of fish swimming languidly.

  They didn’t stop, just kept on walking, the guards pushing them past the water till he and Arrim stumbled.

  A half hour later, the trail turned again, and the smell hit him first, and then he registered the buzzing of flies. Joe stumbled backward, choking. Where trees had toppled, their roots had pulled up completely out of the soil, drying dirt clinging to the tendrils. Some trees had broken, the jagged yellow wood weathering in the air. Horses lay where the energy of the gordath had blasted at them, their bodies bloated so that saddle girths had popped open. Scavengers had already started on them.

  At least they must have removed the soldiers, Joe thought, covering his nose with his sleeve. He thought of the little smallholding that he and Arrim had come across months ago in Gordath Wood. Only in this clearing there was no peace, just death. Joe looked at Hare.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Hare’s jaw worked. “We opened the gordath, as Lord Bahard said it might be done. Only . . .”

  Only they couldn’t control it, and it killed more than twenty men, just as Mark had said. Mark began to bluster. “Hey, don’t look at me. It worked last year, and I got through just fine.”

  Asshole, Joe thought. Mark got through, sure, but he couldn’t close down the gordath. It took a guardian to do that. Joe shook his head, still sickened by the stench. He looked at Hare.

  “You are one crazy bastard, you know that?”

  He expected a reaction, even another smack across the face, but Hare just shook his head. His lips pressed together as if to keep back what he wanted to say. Instead, the Brythern lord looked around at the clearing, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

  “All right,” he said finally. “Open it. Keep it open.”

  “Jesus Christ, Hare. You’ve got to be kidding,” Joe said, panic rising. The way the portal was humming, all it needed was the slightest touch to open it. Hell, he and Arrim would have to be very careful to keep from disturbing
it. It was so on edge all he had to do was reach out with his mind, and it would fly open.

  The gordath’s vibration increased in intensity as if it could feel his panic. He could sense it whispering on the edge of his mind; if he strained to try to understand, it would lure him in. If he wasn’t careful, it would worm its way inside of him and take control.

  “Hare,” Joe said, his voice shaking. “We all have to get out of here. Now!” Joe tried to keep his mind carefully focused, but it felt like ants were crawling around inside of him. He glanced at Arrim. The man was sweating. Joe knew he could tell how delicate the situation was.

  “Open it!” Hare roared. “Open it, and keep it open!”

  The ground trembled under their feet, the ferns swaying and the leaves rattling overhead. The forest darkened almost imperceptibly. Joe’s head spun with the effort to keep control, and he swallowed the rise of bile in his throat. His knees went weak, and he fell.

  God, he thought. Forest god, Jesus Christ, whoever you are. Stop it.

  Arrim went to his knees next to him. Joe could feel the gordath opening. The last thing he remembered was sharp regret. So the Brytherner would have his way after all, and all of the beatings had been for nothing. He could do nothing about it except to succumb, and the gordath opened wide, swallowing his world.

  Ten

  “Kate!” her mom called through her bedroom door. Kate opened a bleary eye. It was morning, and the day was fresh, the sunlight streaming through her bedroom window. Yesterday’s chaos came back in a rush, and when she looked at Mojo’s saddle, still perched on the back of her desk chair, she felt a sickening quiver in the pit of her stomach. Her mom knocked again and poked her head in, and Kate made sure she was covered up to her chin with her blankets. She had slept in her clothes, and she didn’t want her mom to see. Her mom was dressed in a suit and had her briefcase and keys. “I’m going to work, sweetie, and your dad’s already gone. I don’t want you sleeping in all day. Cole’s already up; you should be, too.”

  He always got up early. First light.

  “Okay,” Kate said. “I’m going to the stables today.”

  Her mom smiled. “Good. Your dad and I talked, and we think it would be a good idea if we bought Allegra for you. You seem to like her, and you did get a few ribbons with her the other day. We’ll talk with Lynn tonight—if you want, of course.”

  Was that a bribe, or did they think it was a solution?

  “Um, okay,” she managed.

  Her mom was about to close the door when she saw Mojo’s old saddle. Her gaze sharpened, and Kate could see her struggle to control her anger. “Oh, Kate. Remember what I said about no tack in the bedroom?”

  “Sorry,” Kate managed. “I’ll take it back today.”

  Her mom pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to keep going, but instead she nodded. “All right. I will see you tonight. I might be late—we’ll order takeout. Cole likes Thai, doesn’t he?”

  Kate felt a rush of irritation. Just go! “I don’t know, Mom,” she said, her voice level. “I’m sure he’ll manage.”

  Her mother hesitated, then, still determined to let no bad mood foul the day, she said again, “Good-bye, Katie. Call me if you need anything.”

  Call me if you intend to go crazy again. Kate waited for her mother to close the door and threw off the covers, fully dressed from patrolling the house last night. She and Colar had alternated watches, and he had taken the early morning shift. She had left him at the top of the stairs, his sword in one hand, a cell phone in the other. The night stayed quiet, but she knew that it was only a matter of time before Marthen came back.

  What were they going to do? The general had sent a message when he left the saddle: You aren’t safe from me. I can come here anytime. She didn’t know how she was going to be able to protect her parents if they wouldn’t believe her or Colar about the danger.

  The house was dead silent, and she held her breath, listening, a trickling of fear niggling at her. Her home was no longer a refuge; now she felt as if she were being watched. Kate got up and shed her slept-in clothes, getting dressed in the first clean pair of jeans and T-shirt she pulled out of her bureau. She was clumsy in her haste and knocked over a picture from her shelves. The glass broke with a crack.

  “Oh no!” Kate knelt to pick it up, careful of broken glass. She turned it over. It was one of her and Mojo taken at a show just before she had gone to Aeritan. She held him by the reins under the chin with one hand, the other holding up a yellow ribbon. She remembered. They had come in third among some really stiff competition. Most of the other riders had upgraded to better horses, bigger horses, on their way to garnering enough points for Nationals. She was proud of how her little horse had proved himself against some of the toughest competition in the area.

  “Kate?” It was Colar.

  “Just a sec,” she called out, but he opened the door anyway and came in. He carried his sword, lowering it immediately when he saw her.

  “I just dropped something,” she said. She checked for broken glass, but the picture had just cracked, not shattered. She got up and set it down on the desk.

  “I heard it. I thought he might have gotten in the window.”

  Her window was on the second floor, and there was no convenient tree to climb, like in the movies. But she knew better than to underestimate her enemy.

  Colar sheathed the sword. He wore his sword belt over jeans, and the scabbard hung down low by his side. He was wearing sneakers, the laces tucked inside. He touched the saddle. It still had a few black hairs from Mojo’s mane stuck in the D rings, and there were splotches of blood and dirt. Aeritan blood, she thought. Aeritan dirt.

  Colar looked as if he were fighting to keep his anger down. His hand whitened on the hilt of his sword. When he spoke, his voice was low. “I don’t like him being here.”

  She sighed and sat back down on her bed. “What are we going to do? He made it clear he’s going to come back whenever he wants to. This house isn’t safe, and I don’t know how to make it safe.” A thought struck her. “We’re not safe right now. He probably has someone watching us this minute, and he knows my mom and dad are gone.”

  He walked over to her window, positioned himself next to the wall, and peeked out through the blinds. “He could be,” he said. “We patrolled most of last night, and we did have the alarm on, so if he did set someone to watch, they probably had an eye on us all night.” He glanced at her. “I set up a deadfall early this morning in front of the garage door. I figured that would be the way they would try to get in first. I put everything back when I heard your parents get up.”

  “Cole’s already up,” her mother had said. She just hadn’t known that he had been up all night. She probably heard him puttering down in the garage and just thought he was throwing the basketball around.

  Kate said, “What did you use?”

  He shrugged. “Tools and things from the garage.”

  Kate almost wished Marthen had tried to get in last night. Maybe then her parents would believe them. As it was, time was running out. They couldn’t wait for him to make the next move.

  “We have to find him. He’s hiding in the woods, and he’s got all those homeless men with him. He’s got to be camped out by the gordath.” She didn’t want to leave the house empty, but it wasn’t the house that Marthen wanted.

  “Then what?” Colar said. He leaned back against the wall. The scabbard looked incongruous against his jeans. He looks taller, she thought. How strange. “What do we do with him?”

  What, indeed? There was only one thing they could do, even if it meant that they could get stuck on the other side. The words came to her as if the soldier’s god had spoken them.

  “We send him back.” In pieces if we have to.

  Colar’s expression was hard to read; he looked as if he was going to say something but stopped himself. Finally, he said, “If we take him through, we might not get back. If you can’t go home again . . .”

  “I know,
” Kate said quickly. “Let’s not worry about that.”

  They hurried to prepare. Kate dumped her binders and notebooks out of her school backpack, sweeping out all the detritus of sophomore year. She left the pile on the bedroom floor and hurried into the bathroom. Aspirin, tampons, a roll of toilet paper, toothpaste, and toothbrush, all went into her backpack. Inspiration struck, and she pilfered a few old hotel soaps and shampoos, too. She took the Band-Aids and the antibiotic ointment. Too bad none of us are taking antibiotics. Finished, she went back into her bedroom, stuffing underwear, an extra shirt, and extra socks into the backpack. It was full. The jeans I have on now have to do, she thought. She bit her lip, thinking, then grabbed a light jacket and a thin sweater. She could roll them up and tie them to the back of the backpack.

  There was a good chance they weren’t going to stay, anyway. This is just a precaution, she thought. All they had to do was make sure Marthen went back.

  That’s all? a sardonic part of her mind asked. She ignored that and zipped her backpack shut.

  She met Colar out in the hall. He had dumped out his lacrosse duffel bag, and it was full. She knew he packed his old armor, his old clothes. His sword was strapped to the back of the gym bag. “I’ll change into my gear when we’re in the woods.” He nodded at her pack. “Toilet paper?”

  Kate giggled, suddenly lighthearted. “Toothpaste, too.”

  He grinned, and he suddenly looked his age. “Let’s get food.”

  They went down into the silent kitchen and raided the pantry.

  Kate checked all of the doors and reset the alarm. Her mom must have left it off when she went out, and Kate clicked her tongue in annoyance. Well, soon they won’t have to worry about it, because Marthen will be gone, she thought grimly. They went out the garage and loaded up the Jeep. It was eerie, how quiet the house had become. She used to not mind being home alone, but the house would never feel safe again. Suddenly she remembered her saddle.

  “Wait!” she said. Colar looked up from where he had dumped the duffel bag. “My saddle. I promised my mom I wouldn’t leave it in the room.” She felt a sharp sadness. What if she did get trapped on the other side?