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

by Brandon Barr

  WINTER

  Winter left her quarters for the first time in two days, pushed by a final pendulum swing of determination. She found Rueik and Zoecara in the hallway, but stopped only to ask them where Karience could be found.

  While in her room earlier that day, she had made several resolutions. She had fought herself. The unexposed, hidden things she’d kept inside were shouted and hissed into the air with the same amount of emotion that had kept them locked away.

  “You’re afraid of losing your brother,” she jeered at herself. “He’ll die someday whether you’re prepared for it or not. Is that all that matters? Safety? A happy life? The Makers promised you pain when they gave you the gift. Are you now too weak to handle it? If the Maker hadn’t saved you from the water, you would be dead. If you hadn’t had the vision of the dead bodies and the smoke, you wouldn’t have set in motion everything that led you to be where you are now. You may have died along with your entire family, trying to escape the Baron’s land. One thing is for certain. You wouldn’t be here, with the Guardians, where it is possible to live out what Leaf called you to do—to put under your feet a Beast. The portal is at your fingertips. Are you blind to where you’ve been led, as painful as it has been?

  “It’s been joyful, too—don’t forget! Either trust the Makers with every hair on your body or forsake your gift and run away to live a normal life.”

  Rationality and the absurd were intermixed as she chased every dark corner away with fiery passion.

  In the privacy of her own quarters, she had battled more than just herself. She had warred with the Makers, too.

  “Can I trust you?” she had whispered into the air again and again, growing accustomed to the emotion and bite of her own voice jarring her ears. “I’m drowning all over again. It’s too dark to see. Please. Where are your arms when I need them? If you’re closer than my next breath, then speak to me.

  “Did a Maker kill the Sanctuss? The Consecrators believed it was one of you that took her life. I’m trying to understand you, just the same as Sanctuss Voyanta was. She thought you had to be either good or bad. You heard me defending you. Trying to put you on the side of good. But I didn’t have answers. Neither did the Sanctuss when she needed them—when she was still an Oracle. Will it be the same for me? Why do I feel pushed beyond what I can bear? Would you kill me, too, if I turn away for lack of guidance?”

  Alone, she’d released everything in her heart. No conscious doubt was left unspoken. No emotion held back.

  Mercifully, these feelings that had raged the past two days had calmed, dispelled by the simple creature that faithfully followed her everywhere.

  She arrived at Karience’s door, where Rueik had told her the Empyrean spent her afternoons engaged in official business.

  Whisper clung to the side of Winter’s face, its blue wings folded up.

  As she had wrestled in agony within her room, the butterfly had crawled over her body with occasional voyages into the air to glide about the open space. The creature had comforted her a small amount. A momentary distraction of beauty. But then Winter saw something for the first time. Beyond its bright colors and elegant form, the two dots on the end of its wings took on a striking pattern. She’d sat, mesmerized, shivers electrifying her neck and back as she realized their eye-like form. When Whisper glided above her it was as if a pair of divine, hazel green eyes looked down on her. She couldn’t fathom how the pattern had gone unnoticed until just then. Had they always looked so distinctly like eyes? Had the shape been altered? Or was the true form there all along, but hidden from her comprehension until just now? Was that Leaf’s design? Was that his way to tell her he was there with her, as loyal as Whisper?

  It was enough for her. Deep down, it was what she wanted. The being that had touched her so long ago was what she needed to be true. Even if Leaf, or another Maker, would not provide her with answers to questions, they were there, guiding her, not by voice, but by the visions of the seer spirit. And they were good. Somehow they were good. Despite what seemed wrong.

  And now she sensed what she had to do to fulfill her calling. And, if she could, save her brother’s life.

  Winter opened the door and Karience looked up from a sleek white table. A pen was in her hand and a pile of parchment was stacked messily beside her. A large window filled the entire wall to the right of Karience. The sun poured through, filling the room with a bright glow. The other three walls were lined with art that looked to be landscapes of Loam. A portrait here and there. A shelf spilling over with books was against the wall behind the Empyrean.

  “You are just what I need,” said Karience. “A distraction from working on this charter! My life’s work.” She stood and motioned for Winter to join her by the window.

  Winter breathed in the view. So high up. And yet safe behind this perfectly clear glass. The window overlooked the portal. It appeared unguarded, but she knew that wasn’t so. Beyond it laid the ocean, blue and green with white foam where the waves were whipped by wind. A large sailing ship ambled across the waters heading out into the horizon.

  “Have you talked to the Magnus Empyrean about my becoming a Missionary?”

  Karience looked startled. “You are certain of this choice? You’ve only just become an Emissary.”

  “I am certain.”

  Karience turned back to gaze out the window. “In time it is possible, but…what draws you to become a Missionary?”

  “Reaching new worlds,” said Winter.

  “An Emissary travels to new worlds all the time.”

  Winter stared out at the horizon. “I mean, unprotected worlds. New worlds.”

  “You’ve visited two protected worlds, and on the safest world of all, you were nearly killed by fringe activists. Is that not enough danger for you?”

  Winter sighed. “I’m not seeking danger, danger finds me wherever I am. It is part of my calling.”

  “And you feel called to be a Missionary.”

  “I believe it will bring me to foredestined places where I can do great good.” Winter looked over at Karience and held her eyes on the side of the Empyrean’s face until she turned and met her gaze.

  “I believe the Makers have a Beast for me to kill,” said Winter.

  The Empyrean looked at her curiously, concern pushing her thin dark eyebrows together, but her eyes held excitement at Winter’s words.

  “So, may I train to be a Missionary?” asked Winter.

  Karience’s gaze broke from hers. “Back on the The Relic, when you and Aven first arrived, I told you about the murder of the three Emissaries, but I didn’t finish telling how they were murdered, or by who.”

  Winter waited as Karience turned to face the window again.

  “I suspect it was one of us,” said Karience. “A Guardian.”

  Winter wasn’t sure she understood. “You mean a group, like Humanity Kind?”

  “No, I mean one of the Missionaries in our enclave.”

  The declaration hit the open air like a bolt of lightning. It was said with such surety, it silenced Winter. If Karience believed a murderer lived among them, why would she allow her and Aven to walk about unaware?

  “I have my suspicions, and they are only suspicions. The Magnus Empyrean who I report to thinks I am wrong, but he wasn’t an Aftermath Psychologist in his pre-empyrean days as I was. I have good reason to be cautious, and I’ve decided to tell you…because I believe you may be able to help. It is not everyday you come across a person gifted in visions. Perhaps my saying something will stir the foresight in you.”

  “That is not how they work,” said Winter. “Who do you suspect?”

  Karience hesitated only a moment. “I shouldn’t say. I don’t want to give you a false leading. Just know that I suspect one of the Missionaries, and if you experience any visions that might shed light on this matter, tell me immediately.”

  “You told us we were safe as long as we stayed in the Guardians’ quarters.”

  “You are safe. There is no
corner that isn’t monitored in these facilities by tiny beetle eyes. That is why the murders took place where they did, at the Royals’ masquerade. It was myself, the three Emissaries, and Rueik. By the end of the night, only Rueik and I were alive. The Emissaries were found dead in the Royal garden. Lured out there by one person, I suspect. Your local authorities think it was a member of the Royal houses. There are many Royals who dislike our presence and wish to drive us from Loam, but they do not have a majority vote. I am not so certain the authorities are on the right trail, though I haven’t told them so. It’s better, right now, if everyone thinks as they do. The three Emissaries were found with a knife wound to the heart. But what I haven’t told the authorities is that I found trace amounts of a very sophisticated poison in all four bodies—a poison derived from a plant that we haven’t found on Loam. That leads me to think it was one of us. A Guardian.”

  “Why?” asked Winter, unable to digest that one of the five Missionaries she’d met were capable of murder. “Why would a Missionary want to kill anyone?”

  “They would, if they were a Beast’s assassin,” said Karience. “If a Shadowman ever infiltrated our ranks, they could do tremendous damage.”

  Winter pictured each Missionary’s face. None fit her picture of a murderer. But then, that showed her how trusting she was.

  “Winter, I need your help.” Karience’s eyes were calm, but her smooth dark face betrayed deep interest.

  Winter nodded, drawn away and caught in the tide of a powerful memory. The memory of her last vision. The image of the horrible creature hung before her, Aven crushed by its teeth. Somehow, it was connected to this. Was it the Beast behind the murders?

  “How can I help you?” asked Winter.

  “I don’t know how your visions work, but you have this gift,” said Karience. “Perhaps you will be shown something.”

  Winter pondered the possibility. “If you let me train with the Missionaries, my gift may help me see something.” Winter hesitated. “It may have begun to already.”

  Karience’s brow narrowed. “Can you tell me? Please!” The Empyrean’s voice carried desperation. “If you have seen anything—even if it doesn’t seem related—it could mean something to me.”

  Winter’s jaw clenched tight. If she opened it, she lost control over the circumstances. She had surrendered control before to Aven, and as a result her parents and others lost their lives. But now she didn’t know if that was part of the plan. If she had kept it to herself, would they have lived? Would she ever discover the truth of it?

  “I will tell you what I see only if it can help you,” said Winter. “It is dangerous for me to tell anyone. A lesson I learned very painfully.”

  “Very well.” Karience nodded and placed her hand on Winter’s shoulder. “No one knows my suspicion except the Magnus Empyrean. Keep everything I have told you to yourself. Do not tell even your brother.”

  “So I will be training with the Missionaries?”

  “I will contact the Magnus. I am hopeful he will give his approval, considering we are in need of one more Missionary to fill Arentiss and Rueik’s team.”

  “The Makers have brought me here for a reason,” said Winter. “If there is a Beast’s follower among us, I might be here to find them out. That is the calling the Makers have given me. To kill a Beast. Rooting out their human followers might be a part of that.”

  “Just remember,” said Karience, “for one of the Shadowmen to have become a Guardian, the amount of training and mental control they would have had to undergone would frighten you. It is yet unprecedented for a Shadowman to be found in our order. But I believe it is only a matter of time until one of them slips through. And that time may have passed.

  “They would be a master of disguising their emotions and hiding their agenda. They would have had to pass psychological tests to enter into our order. To do so, they would have learned to lie as smoothly as if it were the truth. Essentially, they would be two persons, and you and I are seeing only one of them.”

  _____

  PIKE

  Pike sat on the floor of his room and stared out at the stars just beginning to shine, the sun’s glow now only a faint purple in the west.

  He wished his family were alive. Distant memories of his father and mother brought both joy and sadness. And Harvest, his adorable sister, how he wished he could tousle her hair and tease her about her field tunic being too big for her. Those days were gone, but gone in a way that left him feeling empty. What had happened to his family?

  Killed, he knew, but how? The pain of searching for that answer was too much, and he stopped as tears began to fill his eyes. He didn’t need to know. Everything within him told him it was better not to remember, and the moment he turned his mind from the question, he felt immense relief.

  But something else bothered him. Ever since his trip to Zoecara’s world, he could barely recall anything from the experience—only a single image came to mind now as he sat in his room. A bald-headed woman with thin, emotionless lips hovered over him. He was laying flat on his back looking up at her. And beyond her sleek hairless head was a dim-lit sky with an odd ochre glow. But that was all he could retrieve. His memory of the Bridge world was intact, so what was wrong with him?

  Pike closed his eyes. Something felt off in his mind; like a barrier stood, blocking his path. He tried thinking clearly on some questions he had.

  How had he become a Guardian?

  Pike stared out the window and frowned.

  Had he just asked a question? He felt like a thought had slipped from his mind. What had he been thinking about?

  He sighed, frustrated. It had been something important, he felt. He searched for the thought he’d lost, and found his mind turning to the farmland. He remembered so little. He had a vague notion of the land baron being cruel, but he couldn’t recall his name. Nor could he remember much of Aven and Winter, except for childhood memories. Laughter and jokes. They had been friends back then, especially him and Aven.

  Pike smiled, recalling some of the jokes they had shared together. But there was a big gap between their childhood and who they were now. Pike sensed that the fieldwork must have taken precedence as they grew older…yes, lots of field work. That was the memory that filled his mind mostly when he thought of his time on the farm.

  Aven had changed a lot. He certainly didn’t seem to appreciate Pike’s sense of humor anymore, and that bothered Pike. He had liked Aven as a child, and he hoped to continue that friendship here, now that they found themselves together again.

  Pike stood, a sense of purpose filling his heart. He needed to talk to Aven. Apologize to him. Try and rekindle that old friendship from their distant past—if even a little.

  CHAPTER 22

  ZOECARA

  “You’re sure the ship will be here?” said Zoecara, her breath frosting in the air as she leaned back into the shadows of one of Dheeg Sar’s many underground cellars. The faint smell of frozen meat drifted from the opposite end of the vast space where hundreds of ice blocks lay piled with cuts of lamb, hog, cow, goat, and a few human bodies.

  Zoecara folded her arms tight against the cold. A single candle flickered upon the dissection table beside a corpse with its head splayed open, the brains bulging out like a strange fungus.

  Zoecara glanced at the frozen pit at the far side of the room. The ice shop was a front for Dheeg Sar’s true mission. It was a perfect cover for a mercenary from a world outside the Guardian’s clutches. Sell ice, and offer a coldroom as a temporary morgue where bodies could be kept overnight until burial. How else could one preserve the three former Emissaries and the valuable VOKKs within their heads on a primitive world?

  He had Zoecara to thank for that. One of those was worth more than what most mercenary crews made in ten years.

  “The ship will come,” said Dheeg Sar. “Nightfall, two days from now.” He looked at her intensely. “Do you have the disrupter?”

  Dheeg Sar bore deep lines under his wide-set eyes. A
pale crimson glow from the candle lit the remainder of the mercenary’s face.

  Zoecara took a small circular device from a pouch slung around her neck. “Picked it up just three days ago. The Empyrean allowed me to accompany one of the new Emissaries on his first portal jump.”

  “He didn’t suspect anything?”

  Zoecara laughed confidently. “My master runs a tidy civilization. The Guardians suspect nothing, my world has been chartered for nearly a thousand years. Your merchandise is safe with me. You worry about getting the ship here precisely on time and on location. I’ll take care of my part.”

  Dheeg Sar scowled. “As long as we get the additional VOKKs. Three of them.”

  “I said two or three,” said Zoecara. “I can’t guarantee the third.” It was a strategic lie. If her plan went smoothly, he would have seven VOKKs.

  Dheeg Sar’s hand seized her tunic below her neck and shoved her up against the cold stone wall. She let him, resisting the urge to twist his unsuspecting neck until it popped or drive his nose up into his brain or de-ball him with her knee and drive the knife in her sleeve in past his ribs. She could have killed him ten different ways, but instead she merely gasped, as if surprised.

  He glared at her, teeth clenched. “I’ve been stuck on this primworld for thirty-one years, waiting for this day. If you want the Guardian Tower here on Loam made into a molten crater, you will deliver three more VOKKs.”

  “Three,” repeated Zoecara, a slight trembling to her voice. “I promise. Three VOKKs.”

  Dheeg Sar set her on the ground.

  “I need to go,” said Zoecara. “I won’t fail you. Don’t fail me.”

  Outside, Zoecara took off down the alley at a run. The royal streets were nearly deserted. She found the shadowed corner where she’d hidden her pack and slipped out of her street clothes and back into her clean white Guardian attire. Ahead rose the Guardian Tower. Quickly she passed into the courtyard, where a pair of Royal guards took one look at her and greeted her by name. She winked and flashed them a playful smile.