Capering on Glass Bridges (The Hawk of Stone Duology, Book 1)

by Jessica Hernandez

  “Unlikely,” said Taria.

  “Oh, don’t be upset.”

  “I’m not. I’m only stating a fact.”

  “So you won’t come with us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We both want you to. Don’t we, Kaia?”

  “Sure.”

  “See?”

  “She doesn’t mean it,” said Taria.

  “I want you to come. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Alright,” said Taria with a sigh.

  The three sisters, along with Ani and Ree, left the top deck and descended the familiar staircase. After grabbing a few lanterns, they entered the ship’s two-level hold. It was completely empty, save for a few beams.

  “Well, this is disappointing,” said Kaia. “No chests filled with cargo from foreign kingdoms. No clothes from faraway. Nothing precious…nothing at all.”

  “How strange. It is already lit down here, too,” said Taria, putting her lantern down.

  Kaia strolled towards one of the beams, pulled herself up, and then rose to her feet. She teetered for a bit before finally finding her equilibrium. Once she was steady, she started tootling towards the opposite end of the beam; she went slowly at first, and then, gaining confidence, faster.

  “If we hit a wave, you’ll be sent tumbling,” warned Elania.

  “What wave do you fancy we’ll be running into? We are on a river, remember?” said Kaia.

  Elania and Taria hopped onto their own beams, and the three sisters began racing. The goal of each race was the same: travel from one end of the beam to the other. The rules governing each match, however, were different. First a regular race was held; one leg was placed in front of the other until the goal was achieved. Then they raced backwards, repeatedly placing each leg behind the other. Then they raced sideways, moving as crabs do. They even raced blindfolded, with Ani and Ree serving as moderators.

  “This is not fair. Both of you have longer legs,” protested a huffing Taria, who won not a single match.

  “Then don’t play,” said Kaia, part in jest, part in vexation.

  When the girls grew tired of their games, they climbed down and sat on the floor.

  “We never did finish Mel’s story,” said Taria.

  Kaia straightened her elbows and placed her arms behind her back, reclining all the while. “I wonder how it would have ended.”

  “We don’t have to wonder,” said Elania.

  “Did you bring the cards?”

  “No.”

  “Then we do have to wonder.”

  “Do you think she would have crossed the bridge?” asked Taria.

  “I don’t know,” said Elania.

  “It would have led her home.”

  “But she would have died in the process. By drowning.”

  “A most painful death, I imagine.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Wait…if people die upon entering it, then how does the lake return anyone home?” asked Taria.

  “It could be that the man and woman who went into the lake didn’t really drown, and Mel just thought they did,” amended Elania.

  “You’re saying that they needed to be completely submersed in order to be taken home?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if the post was lying?” asked Taria. “We don’t know who put it there. Perhaps they intended ill.”

  “Of course they didn’t,” said Kaia.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because we put it there.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “Fine, one of us did.”

  “None of us did. Someone inside the story did.”

  “We created the story; therefore, we also created the post.”

  “That’s not how it works!”

  “Of course it is!”

  “Neither of you will have much success in converting the other,” interrupted Elania.

  “What if the lake was never intended to take anyone anywhere?” asked Taria. “It could have all been a ruse. I think Mel would have been suspicious, too; she seems sharp and cautious. I don’t think she would have crossed the bridge.”

  “She’s not cautious in the slightest,” said Kaia. “She opened an unfamiliar door—not knowing where it would lead her—that emerged from an egg!”

  “She was being curious.”

  “Curiosity and caution cannot dwell within the same person; cautious people can’t act on their curiosities, regardless of how much they would like to.”

  “Prove it!”

  “Mel’s not cautious,” said Kaia, waving her hand dismissively at Taria. “I do agree with you on her being inquisitive, which is precisely why—I think—if she really wanted to go home, she would have crossed the bridge.”

  “Now it is you who is confused,” said Elania.

  “How?”

  “Mel’s being inquisitive does not guarantee that she would ‘act on her curiosities.’”

  “A curious person takes risks.”

  “Not always!” said Taria. “Especially if their boldness is certain to result in their death.”

  “And we are back to the issue of the lake itself,” said Kaia.

  “Girls!” called Mrs. Stone; she stood on the staircase, steadying herself with the handrails. “What are you doing down here? I have been searching for you for a good quarter of an hour! Get up. We are nearing the capitol. Goodness, you are all still in your breeches! Go change immediately!”

  Chapter Four

  Revelations

  The capitol was nothing like what Kaia had imagined. She had envisioned dusty floors, stalactite hanging from the ceiling, and a perpetual stuffiness. How mistaken she had been.

  Before her was an immaculate, cobbled street stained in grey, brown, and beige. It led to two curved staircases—both of which disappeared into a most impressive archway that was flanked on either side by a file of enormous, unglazed windows. Golden, immovable-looking doors as broad as small huts interspersed the first floor. Not a sound came from the doors’ direction. As a matter of fact, aside from a moored ship snoozing nearby and two men who appeared to be waiting for someone or something, the capitol was deserted; upon inspection, Kaia determined that the pair had been sent to greet her family, for they stood perfectly still, arms behind their backs, smiling at the Stones as hosts often do.

  “Welcome, Stone family. My name is Voy,” greeted a lanky, elderly man. “Please, do leave your things with Tilk; he will take them to your chamber. If you will follow me, I will show you to the dining hall. The councilors are waiting for you.”

  Kaia wondered how many non-Zavonians had ever entered the capitol. Probably not many, and certainly none from Fiaru, else she would have heard about it; Greylandians had a reputation for being unabashedly chatty—Mr. Stone was the exception.

  Turning to face the Stones, Voy stopped in front of an open door. “The councilors were not sure whether or not your canonipoms regularly dine with you, and so, they set up a separate space for them in the event of the latter. Nevertheless, seating arrangements can always be made for them at the main table, if you wish.”

  “Whatever arrangements have already been made will do,” said Mr. Stone.

  “Very well.”

  A woman appeared in the entryway. Stepping aside, she invited Abe, Nellie, Ani, and Ree into the chamber.

  “Right this way,” said Voy to the remaining Stones.

  The group turned into various passageways and climbed and descended no end of stairs until they finally arrived at two doors quite unlike the rest; though they were as golden and as elaborately engraved as their neighbors, they were embedded with brilliant, silver gems where the others were not. Voy pushed the doors open and led the Stones inside.

  The dining room was a large, brick room with arched ceilings. It had several columns but no windows. All light came from a few strategically placed torches and lanterns; regardless, it was far too late in the evening for windows to have made a difference in the lighting. A long, rich table lined wi
th brass goblets and surrounded by gigantic chairs claimed the center of the room. As the Stones were led in, eight figures—neither exceptionally old nor young, though all grey-haired—clad in orange and yellow robes rose. One of them looked away and gestured at a short, hairy man who subsequently disappeared into a corridor.

  “Welcome,” greeted the woman seated at the head of the table. “Please,” she encouraged, motioning towards the five chairs nearest her. “I am Lady Witsword, the head councilor. Allow me to introduce Lady Fordegran, Sir Zealston, Sir Stilton, Lady Spokehwel, Lady Altman, Sir Cunsmeade, and Sir Freeborne.”

  “Pleasure. Perhaps this is redundant since you already seem to know who we are,” began a nervous Mrs. Stone. “Then again, seeing as how this is our first proper meeting and all, maybe it’s not; I am Parnell Stone, this is my husband, Barnaby Stone, and these are our three daughters—Elania, Kaia, and Taria.”

  “We are extremely pleased that you all came. I hope that we haven’t inconvenienced you; I realize that our invitation was extended with little lead.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “I trust that your travels were comfortable, not too taxing.”

  “It was a most pleasant trip—made even more so by the beauty of your island,” said Mrs. Stone. The councilors bowed their heads in appreciation.

  “You must be wondering what this gathering is to be owed to.”

  The short, hairy man reappeared bearing two trays. He was followed by several other men who were also carrying dishes.

  “Ah! Just a moment, Lady Witsword. Let them set their charge down first,” said Cunsmeade.

  A plate containing half a roasted chicken, a crisp potato, fresh bread, painted beans, and cooked carrots was set down before each person. Water was poured into each of the goblets.

  “Tell us, what do you know about the Kingdom of Mar?” asked the plump Cunsmeade, delicately ushering nearly half a potato into his mouth as soon as the attendants had vacated the room.

  “It is a cursed land. It has been so for the last decade,” answered Mrs. Stone.

  “Do you know why it is cursed?”

  “Because…its people attacked and killed the Tivmicans.”

  “Precisely. And in doing so, they came into conflict with one of our utterances.”

  “Should a group ever seek the extermination of another group,” began Altman, reciting the utterance from memory, “let Acu’s skies cry blood on that day. Let the plagued realm know only misery, and let it offer escape to none.”

  “Up until less than a week ago—when the Utdrendans informed us that our records were incomplete—that was the accepted transcription of the utterance,” said Freeborne.

  “The Utdrendans spoke with you?” asked Mrs. Stone.

  “Yes.”

  “Actually,” said Cunsmeade, “we’ve maintained a communication of sorts with them for years. You see, immediately after the curse fell on Mar, we travelled to Aucland. We petitioned the first races, asking that they help us undo what our ancestors did; for we believed then, as we do now, that the utterance in question punishes in excess. The Atalileves and the Catrees listened to our pleas. They were sympathetic, even; the Utdrendans, the ones whose assistance we really needed, were not.”

  “Every year for the past decade,” said Witsword, “we have travelled to Aucland to renew our entreaty. Never could the Utdrendans be compelled to aid us, until a few days ago, that is, when they finally agreed to orient us.”

  “Did the Utdrendans say why they were abandoning their…mutism?” asked Mr. Stone with a frown.

  “They did not.”

  “You do not find it strange that the race most disinclined to humans suddenly wants to help you?”

  The councilors looked at one another. They moved as does a wave—some grew in size, others shrunk away.

  “There is no way for us to ascertain the Utdrendans’ motives,” said Witsword. “However, the Atalileves and the Catrees seem confident that we can trust them.”

  “The three of them are sister races,” said Mrs. Stone. “Can you think of any circumstance under which they would betray one another?”

  “The Atalileves and the Catrees would not endorse anything devoted to destruction.”

  “They wouldn’t knowingly endorse anything devoted to destruction,” corrected Mr. Stone.

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “How can you be certain that the Utdrendans are being transparent with the Atalileves and the Catrees?”

  “All notions of malice have been bred entirely within our minds, Mr. Stone. There is no actual reason to be suspicious. Heeding the information we have been given could potentially liberate thousands upon thousands of people.”

  “What, exactly, were you told?” asked Mrs. Stone.

  “The Utdrendans claim that the original utterance maintains that the curse will hold true until the wrongs are made right,” said Cunsmeade. “Do you know what that means? The curse can be lifted!”

  “Have you told this to King Richard?” asked Mr. Stone, motioning to the yellow and orange ‘flowers’ propped on the table.

  “No. We were warned not to send a flird. Apparently, the message need be delivered by…specific individuals.”

  Mr. Stone stiffened his back. Every muscle in his body seemed to tighten. “The Utdrendans gave names?”

  “They identified two people: a kingsman by the name of Sir Pelliab Blackwell of Darlbent…and your daughter—Ms. Kaia Stone of Greyland.”

  Kaia felt as though she were to be sick. Had she heard correctly? Elania grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed; so her ears hadn’t deceived her. Kaia’s heart quickened, beating violently against her ribs. Without shifting her eyes, Elania turned her head, almost imperceptibly. Could she hear the pounding, too?

  “There must be a mistake,” babbled a tongue-tied Mrs. Stone.

  “That is of little consequence,” said Mr. Stone.

  “Of little—how can you say that?” asked Stilton.

  “The Utdrendans cannot foresee the future.”

  “Will you so blatantly disregard their perfect understanding of the past and present?”

  “Their pronouncements are, at most, mere predictions.”

  “Yes, but their predictions are accurate; they have come to pass in the past.”

  “Unless you are withholding something, the Utdrendans didn’t actually make any predictions this time, did they? No. They simply said that it is possible to lift the curse and provided you with the first step in a series of steps that may or may not restore balance in Mar.”

  “Mr. Stone!”

  “Why is it so important that my daughter, a sixteen-year-old girl, deliver the message? Hmm?”

  “We do not know,” said Cunsmeade.

  “Some questions can only be answered in retrospect. Trust that this is one of them,” said Witsword.

  The muscles on Mrs. Stone’s face relaxed. Her eyebrows came back down, her eyelids dropped a bit, and her mouth closed.

  “Tell me, what is your plan?” asked Mr. Stone, his voice growing deeper. “You would have Kaia go to King Richard to report of your discovery, and then what? Is she to sit around in a damned land waiting for a day that may never come? No one truly knows what has become of Mar, nor of what lies therein.”

  “Your daughter and the kingsman would not be going in alone, Mr. Stone,” said Spokehwel. “King Richard’s brother—King Robert of Darlbent—has pledged five of his sons, princes all, and my eldest daughter has volunteered to go, as has Sir Zealston’s son.”

  “That does little to appease me.”

  “She will be protected.”

  “Councilors,” called the stunned Mrs. Stone. Her eyes were open, but they beheld no one. “We…need some time…to talk this over amongst ourselves.”

  “Of course,” said Witsword.

  “No, we do not,” said Mr. Stone.

  Mrs. Stone touched her husband’s arm. “Barnaby!”

  “Dad!” cried Kaia.


  “Councilors, you have been most hospitable, but seeing as how you have our answer—one which, regrettably, I am fairly certain is not to your liking—perhaps it is best if we take our leave,” said Mr. Stone, rising to his feet.

  “Please, do spend the night. We have a chamber prepared for you and your family,” said Witsword.

  “There is no need. You have our answer. It will not change. And, truthfully, we did not plan on spending the night. I have affairs in Fiaru that I mustn’t neglect.”

  “Very well. We will escort you out.”

  ***

  Having retrieved their canonipoms, the Stone family stood by the harbor, waiting.

  “The ship is being brought around,” said Cunsmeade, approaching the group.

  “And Saer and Ode?” asked Spokehwel.

  “I have notified them.”

  Tilk appeared, cradling a pile of bundles which towered over his head.

  “Allow me to help you,” said Witsword, grabbing the two bundles on top. She approached the girls and gave the first package to Taria and the second to Kaia. Kaia felt something brush up against her forearm. Looking down, she realized that Witsword had taken a closed flird—which she had been concealing under her robe—and pushed it up her sleeve so that the bulb came to rest in Kaia’s palm. Witsword grinned warmly at Kaia before backing away and rejoining the other councilors. It wasn’t over. She still had a chance…

  “Please, do not repeat to anyone what we have discussed this evening. It is imperative that this information remain private,” said Witsword.

  “You have not to worry,” said Mr. Stone.

  Saer and Ode descended a flight of stairs and joined the gathered group.

  “Gentlemen, I apologize,” said Witsword, addressing the pair of Cunsmeades before her.

  “It is no trouble, Councilor,” responded Ode. “Just unexpected, that’s all.”

  After the ship rounded the corner, its entrance ramp was lowered.

  “Councilors, my sincerest gratitude for hosting us tonight,” said Mr. Stone, before boarding.

  Mrs. Stone reluctantly trailed her husband. “I’m sorry,” she said to the Zavonians, almost in a whisper.

  Elania, Kaia, and Taria bowed their heads in farewell.