The Bridge Beyond Her World (The Boy and the Beast Book 2)

by Brandon Barr

  “Those towers are weapons. Part of our defenses in the event of another attack from a Beast world.”

  The platform began to slow, then came to a stop. The buildings that had seemed so small were now large and imposing. A walled city within the colossal structure.

  Arentiss led him by hand underneath a large archway that seemed to serve as a gate into the city. Hundreds of oddly dressed people walked the streets within. A soldier at the entrance held a small black box up to her face. A red light flashed across her eyes.

  “Haut Lo,” said the soldier to Aven. Almost instantly Aven understood what had been said. “You’re next.”

  He held the box up to Aven’s face. The red light flashed his eyes. The soldier nodded and Arentiss led him inside by the hand.

  Aven realized she hadn’t let go of his hand since they’d stepped through the God’s Eye.

  “I can follow you just fine you know,” said Aven.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you don’t have to hold my hand.”

  “Your hand feels good in mine,” said Arentiss, stopping to address his question. “Your touch sends endorphins to my brain, and that triggers good feelings inside me. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can release you.”

  Aven wasn’t sure how to respond as the bizarre concept of endorphins slowly began to take form. Arentiss’s face held no emotion, and her voice was just as impassable. Was she flirting with him in some strange cultural way, or was he simply providing her some kind of friendly, practical use? Either way, her odd personality was becoming more and more endearing.

  “No, I don’t mind,” said Aven.

  “That is good for me. Your touch produces more endorphins than any I’ve held. I think likely due to your pleasant disposition and attractiveness. Now, let’s get going. We’re meeting the others on Bridge. That means we need to acquire a Bridgeworlder. Bridge is the center of the Guardian's activity. It is the world that connects to every other world.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Bridge has Emissaries from every world. And every chartered world has at least one Emissary from Bridge.”

  They passed through a large metal door into a tunnel lit by green lights. People in uniforms of various colors hurried all around them.

  “Is there an Emissary from Bridge back on Loam?”

  “There was,” said Arentiss. “Have you been told what happened?”

  “You mean the murders.”

  “Yes. Two of the Emissaries killed were from Loam, the third was from Bridge. We are bringing an Emissary from Bridge back with us. Under normal circumstances, a non-chartered world such as yours needs only three Emissaries, but things have changed.”

  “More new faces,” tapped Aven.

  “Were you trying to communicate with me by hand just now?”

  Aven laughed, and felt his face and neck tingling. “I’m so used to telling my sister what I’m thinking. I guess I forgot whose hand I was holding.”

  “You mistook my hand for your sister’s?”

  “Yes, that’s what I said.” Aven glanced at Arentiss and found her thin lips scrunched into a sort of rueful smile. She was clearly amused.

  “Will you tell me what you said?”

  Aven thought for a moment.

  “I just told her that her hand felt all wrinkly, like Mother’s.”

  Arentiss gasped and yanked her hand away, and for the first time, Aven saw anger on her face. She looked hurt.

  “That was a joke,” said Aven. “I’m sorry.”

  Her furrowed brows eased slightly. “You were teasing me? You didn’t tell her that?”

  Aven shook his head.

  She grabbed his hand again with force. “That was strange. I haven’t been that angry in a long time. Usually I’m good at catching witticism. Rueik throws them at me all the time.”

  “Do you hold Rueik’s hand?”

  “Zoecara would not like it, so I refrain. And Hark is married, so that would be disrespectful.” She stopped. “You have a beautiful male body and a handsome face. Your words, therefore, have much power to spike an emotional high in me, or conversely, to create emotional lows that would appear on a psych graph as a deep valley. Thus my anger.”

  “I’ll be more sensitive,” said Aven.

  “I would appreciate if you were. My endorphin levels are much lower now.”

  BRIDGE

  The Oracle has arrived.

  -Unidentified transmission, portal security, Bridge.

  CHAPTER 13

  KARIENCE

  Karience always relished a trip to Bridge. She and Winter had gone through the portal to Karience’s homeworld of Night 2, and then were taken by a Bridgeworlder to where they were now, passing through the first security quadrant which consisted of a long walkway surrounded by empty space. Not a tree or rock one could hide behind, only a throng of people coming from the portal, or going to it.

  Bridge world was the most unique and beautiful place, for there was almost no atmosphere, and one simply felt united with the blackness of space and bright shining stars overhead. The story of Bridge was long and tragic, but the Bridgeworlders had used ingenious creativity and scientific expertise to survive one of their two suns going supernova, a catastrophe that no other known civilization had lived through. The livable portions of the planet were enclosed in an insulating organic material their scientists had designed. Transparent to the eye, but stronger than most alloys. The only atmosphere was at ground level, no higher than a two-story building, pumped in by machines deep underneath the planet’s crust. And it was there, in the belly of Bridge, far under the surface, that most of its residents lived.

  “And this Maker, Leaf, has not returned?” said Karience, continuing to dig deeper into Winter’s experiences as an Oracle. It was fascinating, her visions, and, even more, her apparent contact with a Maker.

  “No, not like that first time. But Leaf told me he would be with me, closer than my next breath.”

  Karience had heard of Oracles, but they were always on distant worlds and easily forgotten. She hadn’t even considered how such a person could be of interest to the Guardians. And now, because of Winter, she had discovered there was a high priority placed on acquiring Oracles, and that an entire subset of the Guardians, known as Consecrators, existed for the purpose of…what? Studying them? She found herself slightly anxious.

  Having met Winter, Karience couldn’t help but feel concerned. She had no idea what a Consecrator’s objectives were. Or how they viewed the Oracles. And as she probed Winter with questions, and heard Winter’s story—how her gifting began; how she received visions; how the visions warned her while not always sparing her the forewarned pain—she found herself growing intrigued with the Makers, and who or what they were.

  But she also found herself growing more and more protective of the girl. The fact that the Consecrators had not been forthcoming about why they wanted Winter did not sit well with Karience. She wanted answers. She wanted assured that no harm would come to the girl.

  “Have you had any more visions since arriving at our facility?”

  “No,” said Winter, and placed her hand in her hair. The strange blue butterfly crawled onto her finger and spread its wings. “Whisper hasn’t sent me anything. That is the name I’ve given the spirit that lives in this creature.”

  “You say there’s a spirit inside the butterfly?”

  “Yes…at least I think the spirit is in Whisper. Leaf wasn’t exactly clear about that.”

  Karience was not accustomed to the mystical. She observed the butterfly, and had difficulty imagining it being anything more.

  Winter seemed to be soaking in the strange surroundings. Since they had jumped through the portal at Loam and gone to Night 2, and now Bridge, Karience could see Winter was beginning to grasp the severity with which each world took up its defenses. Karience had explained to her that most of the measures taken consisted of large amounts of space where, if Beast armies were to pour thro
ugh the portal, they would be eradicated by nuclear means.

  Winter glanced at the butterfly in the jar around her neck, then tucked it back under her shirt. “What do these Consecrators want with me?”

  “I want to know as much as you do. They’ve told me nothing.” Even the Magnus Empyrean had not told her why, but Karience left that unsaid. Above the eighty Magnus Empyreans who each oversaw hundreds of worlds, there were the ten Arbiters, and above them were the three Sentinels. Karience couldn’t help but wonder which of these had looked over Winter’s beetle feed. When they met Voyanta, the Consecrator, she hoped to find a loose tongue on the woman.

  They were nearing the final gate. A large line waited to be scanned through into the City of All Peoples. A powerful hum swung overhead as a starship glided low above Bridge’s surface. Winter’s orange eyes darted upward, and Karience watched the expression on her face. It was like a child’s, viewing some mundane sight with the awe and wonder of a first time. Above, several hundred warships hovered, most docked, but each ready to be called into duty.

  Bridge’s star that had gone supernova created a portal in space five hundred times the size of the planet. Forty-one other massive portals had been discovered throughout the Silver Hand Galaxy, each created by a star’s spectacular death. More we’re always being searched for. These star-sized portals worked differently than the world portals. Each had a consistent point within the galaxy that ships could reliably jump to. Some of the Guardians’ leading scientists posited some form of quantum connectivity between the supernova star and the newly formed jump point that spilled one out elsewhere in the galaxy.

  Regardless, these giant portals allowed for instant travel of the Guardian’s forces to regions throughout the galaxy. If a Beast world attacked a region near enough one of these star portals, an armada of ships could be dispatched, but there were so many holes in their net that, more often than not, the entire fleet could not jump close enough to help a world under attack. In fact, it almost seemed as if the Beasts were aware of the holes. The murders back on Loam had made that likelihood acutely more probable than not.

  Winter’s eyes moved from the ships above to Karience’s face. There was concern shadowing her nymphish features, and the crook of her bent nose looked especially prominent in the dull light of the five moons. A sixth moon was on the cusp of the horizon, directly over the city they were about to enter.

  “What do the Guardians think of the Makers?” asked Winter.

  Karience pondered the question a moment. “There are a range of sentiments, but I know of no one that sees them as you do. Most do not regard them as present in any way. They are beings that have left this universe. Perhaps for another universe that turned out better.”

  “Is that how you feel?”

  “Before I met you, yes. But I had not thought much about the topic. You have made me more curious. And the possibility that the Makers still have a touch on our world is the most intriguing of all questions. I find your experiences fascinating. I had always assumed that the Oracles were like the portals, a remnant of the Makers’ power that continued on, untended.”

  Winter nodded, her hand at her chest, fingering the jar beneath her shirt as they neared the front of the line of people. Up ahead, dozens of soldiers stood before the city wall, screening each person, checking fingers, eyes, and blood. Winter’s information had been processed long before she knew she would be joining the Guardians.

  “How does one become a Missionary?” asked Winter, as they walked into the city.

  “Recruitment from within the order. It is the least sought after position within the Guardians. One out of three jumps ends with the Missionaries stepping through the portal but never returning. And there are some horrific stories. I’ve heard of Missionaries coming back, but with their extremities removed. Arms. Legs. Eyes. Or sometimes their skin has been stripped away before being thrown back through the portal.”

  Winter shook her head. “I did not know…” her voice trailed off. “I will never look at any of the Missionaries the same.”

  “You can see why the acquisition of one more Missionary at our enclave has been difficult. We have one full team, but Rueik and Arentiss are still waiting for a third member.”

  “Is it possible that I might become a Missionary?”

  Karience scowled. “After what I just told you, now you want to be a Missionary?”

  “I feel drawn to the role.”

  “If you are serious, I could talk to the Magnus Empyrean. I don’t see any reason why an Emissary couldn’t move into the role of Missionary. Of course, there would come a point where you’d have to leave your brother behind while on your mission.”

  Winter nodded. “I don’t know why or how, but I feel like Aven and I are destined to be pulled apart.”

  Destined. Such a strange way of seeing one’s fate. Not random, not lucky or unlucky, but moved by some greater purpose. This girl truly felt her life was being driven by the will of the gods. Such a strange notion.

  At the front of the line, they passed under a large scanning array. A soldier asked them their reason for being there, and Karience told him they were coming to meet a Consecrator named Voyanta. A screen was handed to her that contained the Consecrators’ location, as well as a automated map of the city.

  Passing through the gate, Karience led Winter through rows and rows of lift tubes jutting from the ground like stalagmites, only they were made of human-formed crystals. Most of the crystal lift tubes glowed yellow as people entered them in order to be taken below ground.

  “They’re beautiful,” said Winter. “Do they take us underneath the city?”

  “They take us to the city,” said Karience. “What you see above ground is only a fraction of the whole.”

  They found on the third row a violet, bluish crystal unoccupied. The door slid away and as she and Winter stepped through, the color morphed to a yellow hue. Karience set her screen on a port pedestal, and the lift shut.

  “That device will read the information on our screen, and take us to the port closest to our destination.” The hum of the crystal lift was calming, and the movement was not rough, like the less sophisticated lifts built on Loam and other new worlds. This had taken several hundred years of tunneling and crystal formation. One could tell a lot about the people of a world by their construction, thought Karience. Those on Bridge were a patient community.

  “Do you have any reservations about meeting the Consecrator?” Karience asked, staring at the pleasant crystalline light pulsing from the wall in front of them. Winter’s silence seemed to indicate she did have reservations. Karience turned toward her and gently put a hand on her shoulder. Winter’s face was stern, her lips spread slightly apart, eyes staring forward.

  “You look concerned,” said Karience. “Are you alright?”

  Winter remained unresponsive. Her silence was beginning to disturb Karience more deeply than it ought. Winter was still a mystery to her. She was an Oracle, and her stories of the visions both fascinated and frightened her. It was then Karience noticed Winter’s hand clutching the jar beneath her cloak.

  Karience couldn’t keep the concern out of her voice. “Are you having a vision?”

  Winter’s head turned slowly to face her.

  “Someone is hunting us.”

  A chill ran up Karience’s neck, and then every hair on her body stood on end. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

  Winter slowly shook her head, her focus seemingly lost in another world.

  Karience tried to remain calm, rational. “Who would be hunting us?”

  The girl gave no response.

  Karience stared at her. Winter’s mouth moved, as if speaking words, but not for her to hear. A prayer perhaps. Karience tried to calm herself with controlled breaths. Was this really happening? Visions weren’t really possible, were they? She gravitated toward the thought as she desperately tried to rescue herself from the terrifying words Winter had loosed.

  Someone
is hunting us.

  Some half-rational hope existed, wanting to believe the young woman before her was delusional. Psychotic. But then, that same rational self told her there was enough circumstantial evidence to warrant belief. The Guardians wanted her for a reason. They believed she was god-touched.

  The quiet hum of the lift stopped.

  “Are they out there?” asked Karience, staring at the lift door. “Are they?! Answer me!”

  Karience tensed, and glared at Winter. Was this all madness? The lift door began to open. Karience pressed herself against the back wall. The yellow crystalline glow that had been so beautiful now pulsed crimson red, signaling for them to exit. Karience locked her eyes on the darkened opening, the vein pounding in her neck felt ready to burst.

  “Follow me,” said Winter, moving toward the open door.

  Karience obeyed, grabbing the screen off the port before moving behind her, as if Winter were a shield. Outside the lift, a scant luminosity lit a large cavern. Winter beckoned her forward. “I see something. Come.”

  Inside the cavern was a droning electrical hum. A moving platform ran the length of the cavern, one side of it orange, the other green. Karience saw the shadowed outline of a person speed by on the orange mover, then disappear into a cut tunnel in the far wall of the cavern.

  “What do you see?” asked Karience, moving close behind Winter.

  The girl didn’t answer. Again her hand gripped the vile around her neck, eyes staring blindly forward.

  Karience looked around. She didn’t see anyone now, the mover was empty—its constant echo resounding faintly off the curved cavern roof. None of the underground had windows, only dark openings on the side of the walls that led to rooms and passageways in the rock. Dim lights illuminated each entryway. None of the openings appeared to be occupied.