by Brandon Barr
Karience scanned the shadowy outlines around her. She glanced at the screen in her hand for direction. It indicated that they should take the green moving platform. She looked up again, scanning the hazy openings. Her eye caught the faintest grey shadow of a figure, barely visible in the haze of an unlit entryway.
Immediately the figure stepped out, as if it sensed being seen and began walking toward them.
“Quick,” said Karience, as the figure moved closer. “Onto the mover.”
“No,” said Winter, tugging her arm. “Here.”
Karience followed her to the rock wall, not daring to counter the girl. She was an Oracle, right? The gods were protecting her, giving her direction on how to escape their pursuer.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not sure,” said Winter, passing through one of the entryways into the rock. “There’s a room in here. A man I need to find.”
Karience took a stick off a hook at the mouth of the cave and shook it. The stick warmed with light, and she held it out before them. She could not see, or sense, where the person who appeared to be following them had moved to, but she knew he was there, behind them, in the dark.
“That helps,” said Winter.
Beyond the entryway, there was only the blackness of the tunnels. That was one thing she hated about Bridge. The vast darkness that lay between your starting point, and where you wanted to go, with only handheld lights to guide you.
But on Bridge, the tunnels were unavoidable.
CHAPTER 14
WINTER
Winter saw the room clearly in her mind. A hollowed out hole in the rock where three men were talking. She knew once she found the room, two of the men would try to kill her. She had to find that room. Because there was a weapon inside that Karience knew how to use. And a man that could help.
Glancing behind them, Winter saw how the darkness of the tunnel swallowed everything. The light Karience had grabbed pushed the darkness forward with every step, but beyond the edge of grey light, it was as black as what lay behind.
The dark outline of a room passed on the right. They moved forward. Another passed on the left. The room she was looking for had a light in it, but Winter realized she had no idea where the room was, if it was connected to this tunnel, or a tunnel on the other side of the world. All she had seen were the images. After that, she simply had followed gut instinct.
“Wait. Hold on,” said Karience. “I think we’ve lost them. I don’t see any light behind us.”
Winter stopped, though she felt a deep urge to keep moving. The echo of their footsteps faded, and then there was complete silence. She glanced back at the rim of light, then Karience cupped it in her fingers.
Everything went dark. Only Karience's fingers glowed reddish orange, like a heart with a soul smoldering inside.
A sound cut through the darkness. The scuff of feet coming toward them. But there was no light. The scraping grew louder. Closer. Winter reached out for Karience and grasped her arm.
“We’ve got to go!” said Winter, and her words resounded like a crash, echoing loudly off the walls.
Suddenly, Karience uncupped her light. The moment she did, the razor sharp line of light and dark reappeared, but stepping into the light was a man, hair matted, face unshaven. Something covered his eyes. Whatever it was, Winter knew instinctively it gave him sight in the darkness.
Without a word, she and Karience were running. The walls pounded with the sound of their feet, the deafening sound made it impossible to gauge how close the man was now.
She knew he was close enough that she dared not look back.
Another dark shadowed entryway passed on their left, then up ahead, a soft glow emanated from an opening on the right.
“There!” shouted Winter, cutting in front of Karience. “Inside!”
Winter burst into the room. The three men were seated at a rectangular table. Their heads turned toward her, surprised at her sudden appearance. She jumped on the table, then ran across its top, before jumping down off the other side. The object she’d seen in her vision lay on top of a wooden crate. She grabbed it, then spun.
“Karience!” she shouted, and threw the weapon across the table where the men were still seated. One of the men reached up to try and intercept the object. Karience caught it awkwardly, just as their pursuer entered the room. He ripped off the device covering his eyes and lunged at Karience.
A loud crack sounded as lighting shot from the weapon in Karience’s hands. The white-hot light struck the man, licking like a hundred blinding tongues in and through his chest and stomach. A moment later, the man fell to the ground, his hair burning brightly, illuminating the dingy space.
Silence descended upon the room.
The reek of burning flesh was horrendous. Wisps of smoke wafted from the man’s gaping mouth. His rigid face looked frozen on the verge of a scream stolen by death.
The three men at the table stared at Karience, faces pale.
Karience looked as if she were about to collapse, her breaths short and shaky.
Finally, one of the men spoke. “I’m security officer 3951. Please put the weapon down.”
Slowly, the man stood, hands calmly raised, trying to reassure her. He wore the uniform of a security officer. It was the same uniform as the men she’d seen at the security checkpoints.
Karience nodded, beginning to bend toward the ground.
“Don’t listen!” said Winter sharply. “Keep it in your hands.”
Karience bolted up, but shook her head. “He’s a security officer. We can trust him.”
The three men at the table wore exactly what she’d seen in her vision: the attire of those who had stood at the security checkpoints they’d passed through. But it didn’t matter.
“You give him the gun, he’ll kill us.”
A second man raised his hands as if to bring calm. “We are not going to harm you. If this man was chasing you, you are justified by our laws to use self-defense. Just put the weapon down.”
Karience looked at Winter.
She stared intensely at Karience. “If they get any closer, use that thing on them.”
“Do not threaten us,” said the first man, turning toward Winter. He glanced at his partner, then at the other man who hadn’t spoken. “We can help you. Your superior wants to do what she knows is right.” He turned back to Karience. “I see by your sigil you are an Empyrean. Why are you letting this Emissary give you orders?”
Karience appeared at a loss for words. Still in shock.
The man took a step forward and held out his hand. “Please, you’re safe now. Just be reasonable.”
“I can’t,” said Karience finally. “I have to listen to her.”
The man took another step. “This belligerence could get you stripped of your rank. You are threatening a security officer.”
Winter watched the man step closer and closer to Karience, but she didn’t notice the second man until too late. He had come up nearly beside her.
His hand shot out, and Winter screamed.
“Quiet!” he shouted.
Winter felt herself lifted from the ground, one arm pinned, but the other free to yank on her attacker’s hair. In a brief glance, she found to her horror that Karience had been distracted by the commotion, and was fighting the man for the weapon.
“Kill her! Kill the Oracle!” shouted the man wrestling with Karience.
Winter tore as hard as she could at the man’s hair but he seemed not to care. Suddenly, he twisted on her, and then his arm squeezed around her neck, his bicep pushing like a rock into her windpipe. She clutched weakly at the man’s arms. The sound of the weapon shooting electricity sounded faintly in her ear. She heard a sickening scream. A man’s scream. It was hollow, as if death had already burned his soul from his body.
The man who was strangling her suddenly slackened his chokehold and turned.
It was enough for her to gasp in a breath then shove her palm into the man’s mouth. The blow
bent him backwards—and then electricity raked through his body. She felt the energy, every hair standing on end. The man writhed and shook unnaturally—his proximity making the gruesome spectacle all the more horrific. Finally his mouth opened to scream but only smoke came out.
The body collapsed upon the ground, small flames licking through the eye sockets.
Winter turned away from the revolting image and found the weapon in the hands of the man who had not spoken.
Karience stood beside him, a trickle of blood running from her nose.
“Are you alright?” the man asked.
A flood of tears filled Winter’s eyes. She could still feel the tightness of the man’s arm around her neck.
The nearness of death.
_____
KARIENCE
The man who had saved she and Winter’s lives had introduced himself as Dicameron, and he led them now down the long passage to Bridge’s Loamian domicile. After leaving the room with the three dead men, and a large host of security forces, they’d followed him to the moving platform, riding it for a time, and then had exited and entered another dark tunnel. Five armed security members took up the rear as Dicameron navigated the underground city. The number of protectors surrounding them only added to her anxiety. Karience’s mind was reeling from the experience of having killed a man. His contorted face, the horror of his death.
She had kept her arm around Winter during the entire journey and Winter had done the same. Karience drew strength from Winter’s warmth; a powerful connection bound them now. Strangely, Karience felt almost like a mother holding her daughter. She was thankful Winter’s tears had gone. It had been hard enough holding back her own, but she knew she had to be strong.
Her mind returned to the incident. She didn’t understand. Those men, they had wanted to kill Winter because she was an Oracle—but why? And of all places, here on Bridge, the hub of the Guardian’s power.
“Who were those men?” asked Karience.
Dicameron turned his head as he continued to walk. “Those were members of the Execrata. An extremist sect that hides within a larger movement called Humanity Kind.”
“I’ve never heard of it. What do they have against Oracles?”
“Humanity Kind is a philosophical order that prides itself in ridding the cosmos of the Makers and the Beasts. Your Oracle has a spirit connected to her—at least, that’s how I understand it. Anything associated with the spirit world is combated, usually philosophically, through education. But there are extremists, as you encountered today. The Execrata. These zealous adherents will not hesitate to use violence to—as they say in their pledge—purge the excrement from humanity.”
Karience found it disturbing that she had never known of these groups. The Guardians, in her mind, were a beacon star illuminating the Silver Hand Galaxy. Pure of heart, self-sacrificing in its endeavor to bring peace to every world it found. How could this Execrata sect exist within such a noble group as the Guardians?
The bright light of her order had dimmed today.
“What is the goal of the Humanity Kind movement?”
“Their goals?” Dicameron shrugged. “Worthy enough, I think. They want to progress humanity to its highest potential. Their three tenets are: immortality, morality, meaning. They have an impressive following amongst the scientists and philosophers.”
“Is this movement confined to Bridge?”
”No,” said Dicameron “It’s begun to spread everywhere. At least, to the upworlds. Humanity Kind is very good at instilling their ideals. Fervent preachers, all of them.”
“You seem to disapprove,” said Winter. “Do you follow the gods?”
Karience squeezed Winter’s shoulder gently, glad to hear her voice. She’d been so quiet since the attack.
“I don’t think much upon these matters. Their concerns about the gods seem legitimate, but it’s their zeal I dislike. They carry an air of certainty about them that I find distasteful and…potentially dangerous. As you saw today. Hiding amongst the good and decent adherents of the Mankies are the Execrata.”
“What are Mankies?” questioned Karience.
“A nickname for the vocal members of Humanity Kind.” Dicameron paused and turned to look at Karience. “Beliefs held with certainty can lead to radical actions.”
“I don’t think that’s always a bad thing,” said Winter. “It depends on what you’re being radical about. What you believe.”
“An Oracle, an Emissary, and a philosopher,” said Dicameron with a grin. “Remind me again, what world are you an Empyrean on, Karience?”
“Loam.”
“That’s right. Your domicile is just ahead. Are you sure you still want to meet with the Consecrators today?”
Karience looked at Winter. “It’s your choice? A day of rest might be best.”
“No,” said Winter. “I’d rather meet with them, and then go home. Back to Loam. I don’t want to spend anymore time here than I have to.”
To her surprise, Karience felt a measurable relief. Loam. She wanted to return home as well.
“Tell the Consecrators we will come after we bathe and dress. And we are expecting four more to join us; would you see that they make it safely from the security checkpoint?”
Dicameron stopped before a lit door in the darkened tunnel and extended his arm for them to enter. “Already done. All Loamians, and all Guardians assigned to Loam, are to be escorted by security. Now please, get some rest.”
Karience entered the small domicile which consisted of four rooms. She rarely came here, but it was nice seeing the familiar furniture, and there was Nikos, waiting for them, wearing a surprised expression.
“Nikos, let me introduce you to Winter, our new Emissary on Loam.”
“Good to meet you,” said Winter.
“Hello,” said Nikos with a bow. As usual, thought Karience, his words were akin to his stature. Very little.
“Nikos is from Loam. He is a permanent Emissary here on Bridge. Any who need to travel to Loam can come to Bridge and Nikos accompanies them through the portal.”
Nikos lifted his nose in the air. “What’s that smell? And why are there five security men standing outside our doorway?”
His high voice made him sound almost annoyed.
“Some men tried to kill us,” said Winter. “But the gods helped us escape.”
Nikos was silent, only it was a different kind of silence than the uninterested quiet that normally kept his tongue at rest. This, thought Karience, was genuine bewilderment.
CHAPTER 15
AVEN
The strange cave-like room was crowded with uniformed strangers. Aven had found Winter the moment he entered, and now stood beside her. Nearby them were Karience, Arentiss, Pike, Zoecara, and the short little man, Nikos, whom he’d briefly been introduced to. Aven couldn’t help gathering fragments of their conversation as Karience told of her and Winter’s encounter. One thing was clear someone had tried to kill Karience and his sister. But why?
“What happened?” whispered Aven. He could see the strange mix of fear and elation on his sister’s face—she’d had another vision, he felt certain of it, and it had led her through some danger. How else could he explain the massive security escort he and Arentiss received, and then only to arrive here, in this cave room, which was also under guarded protection.
The look on Winter’s face told him she was hesitant to explain.
“I know three men are dead. The security forces told us that much.” Aven took Winter’s hand and tapped, “You had another vision.”
Winter smiled. “Yes. You don’t have to fear. The Makers are protecting me as they lead.”
Aven glanced at the carved opening where the security forces stood. He shook his head. “How are we so different?” he said in a low voice. “You’re so confident in your safety.”
Winter’s smile had a soothing effect on him. A calm had come over her face. She reached out and put her arms around him, and he held her. Feeling her warmth,
her slender frame, within his arms, refreshed his desire to protect her, his only family. But he couldn’t. She was beyond his ability to care for. In his own way, he was forced to entrust her to the very beings he feared.
Winter lifted her head and put her chin on his shoulder. “Circumstances have shaped our mindsets over the years,” she said quietly. “But I was always the wild one, remember. The forest dweller who’d climb the highest tree or jump across boulders in the ravine. You never liked me doing things like that. You’re the cautious one. You want others to be safe. If I didn’t have you, who’d be my voice of reason when I’m about to spring into some mischief?”
He laughed as vivid memories rushed into his mind’s eye.
“The Makers have given us these traits,” said Winter. “I believe they will use them until the day we die. We both have a mix of choice and destiny. That’s what shapes us.”
Despite his fear, a flicker of admiration warmed his heart. His sister was strong. And she was right. At least about who they were.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” came Karience’s voice. Then it grew to a whisper that only he and Winter could hear. “Dicameron is back from the Consecrators. Do you feel up to going now?”
Winter nodded, and Karience motioned with her head for them to follow. She led them outside, to a security officer.
“This man saved our lives,” tapped Winter.
The man’s face was freshly shaven, and his eyes held untold stories. Aven had seen those same characteristics in many of the older farmers. A certain weight resting in their gaze from the unspoken experiences in their lives.
“Officer Dicameron, this is Aven, he’ll be joining us.”
“Very well,” said Dicameron and faced his sister. “Are you ready, Winter?”
Winter nodded, “I am. Can you tell me a little about the Consecrators?”