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

by Brandon Barr

  Her shoulder wound needed fresh wrapping, the ever-present pain having grown worse today. It was draining her strength and energy. The fever might yet return if she didn’t rest. Her body was demanding she give it sleep. She was pushing herself for this last kill.

  Her hope for putting a prompt end to Harcor, and sleeping in a comfortable bed for the night, was quickly fading. She was about to turn to find a place to wait it out when the slight stink of body odor caught her off guard.

  The twang of a bowstring sounded behind her. She barely had time to twitch.

  The arrow slammed her up against the wood siding of the house, her voice wretched a scream into the cold night air. Disorientated, she stared down at her chest. A metal arrowhead wet with her own blood glistened in the light of the window, the embedded shaft protruding from her right breast. Savarah’s instincts focused on her own weapon. She tried to lift her bow and turn, but a hand crushed down on her shoulder.

  Another scream tore from her lips, and then she felt herself lifted from the ground.

  Blackness swarmed over her as the hand on her shoulder squeezed like a vice on her wound. Something hard slammed the back of her head.

  She felt as if her eyes were falling from her head.

  Falling…falling.

  CHAPTER 26

  MELUSCIA

  Meluscia laid her head against Mayor Brucite’s satin pillows and pulled the warm blankets up to her nose. She had made sure the others had found beds after their meal. The Mayor had been more than hospitable, arranging for their entire party to sleep at his mansion in the middle of town. Meluscia half-heartedly thought of her plan to sleep and dine at a commoner’s home. But not tonight. She had little stamina for anything but putting food in her stomach and finding the nearest bed.

  Outside her window, she could see the moonlit rooftops of the town from her second story room. Where was Savarah? Meluscia had informed the Mayor that her sister might arrive later in the night, but Meluscia hoped Savarah had already found food and a bed somewhere. If Savarah didn’t rest her wounded body, she was going to kill herself. Meluscia couldn’t fathom how her sister managed that first night’s ride in the cold downpour with a bandaged shoulder and fever. It seemed inhuman.

  Sleep beckoned Meluscia, but before she closed her eyes, a large black raven came to her window. It was strange, for it appeared to be looking inside her room. Reason reminded her she was exhausted and probably just delirious. The bird had likely only come there to get out of the rain.

  She closed her eyes, and the bird followed her into the darkness of her dreams. It was the largest raven she’d ever seen. When it took flight, it swept toward her, catching her up in its talons and taking her far to the west, over the land of the Sea Kingdoms finally releasing her atop a tall sea cliff. Below, waves crashed in thundering peals against large black rocks, spraying foam and salty water against the cliff wall.

  Praseme was there with her.

  “Look down there,” said Meluscia, pointing to the dark rocks below. “Isn’t it powerful?”

  Praseme walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Mica will never know, came a voice in Melusccia’s head. She came behind Praseme, and gently pushed her. Praseme’s body turned as it fell free from the cliff, her eyes stared sadly up at Meluscia. Then her body met the water below, and the foam and waves swallowed her, pulling her down deep into the belly of the dark ocean waters.

  The crow grasped her again and flew her to the Hold. Mica came up beside Meluscia and she put her arms around him. He was grieved, because he knew Praseme was gone forever, but Meluscia didn’t mind his emotions, for she was certain her own warmth could heal his wounds.

  But then the crow seized her arm, and shook her, and she was torn from Mica’s presence.

  Meluscia opened her eyes and sat up in bed, breathing hard.

  A candle bobbed in the darkness, illuminating two disembodied faces.

  “Sorry to awaken you,” said Mayor Brucite, his knobby features coming into focus through the blur of sleep. The other face beside him was an old black-haired servant woman from his household.

  “It is two hours until cock’s crow,” continued the Mayor, “and your sister Savarah has not returned. I thought you should be told. Do you believe she is in trouble?”

  “No,” said Meluscia slowly, distracted by the dream she’d just woken from. “Do not worry about her. She is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

  “Very well,” he said. “I apologize for waking you.”

  Meluscia nodded, and the Mayor and his servant quietly left.

  She laid back down, but her thoughts churned furiously over the dream she’d just had. When she embraced him in the dream, it had felt so real. Like the way he held her when she’d pulled him close into the shadows of the dark passageway of the Hold. He had wanted to stay and not pull away. She had sensed it.

  In desperation, she sat up and threw the blankets off her bed. She was tired, but nothing could calm her. She left the bed and wrapped herself in a gown.

  What would it feel like to give in again? To let her body decide her actions? To do what her desires willed?

  She needed some fresh air to still her mind, and she needed company. The Mayor had a tower in the middle of his mansion house that she’d spotted when their party first arrived. The tower was no more than four or five stories high. It would be a beautiful place to stare out and think. To talk.

  She lit a candle that had been left at her bedside and let her feet guide her. “Who would be more enjoyable company than Praseme?” said a voice in her head. “She’s so easy to talk to.”

  Quietly she found her way to the room where Belen, Terling, and Bezmerenna slept. And there was Praseme, beneath one of the room’s windows, moonlight touching her sleeping form.

  Meluscia put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. Praseme’s eyes opened slowly.

  “Come,” said Meluscia. “I need your company.”

  Praseme rose swift and quiet, and donned a wool garment for warmth. She followed Meluscia through the dark halls, the candle lighting their path.

  “I need some night air to think,” said Meluscia. “Looking out at the stars always does me good.”

  “Yes,” said Praseme. “I do the same some nights. When my husband is away with the patrol. Is something worrying you, My Lady?”

  Meluscia came to a small staircase. “Yes, I am full of thoughts,” said Meluscia, her feet guiding her up the staircase. “Tell me, what would you do if there was something that could bring you great joy and peace, but an obstacle blocked your way?”

  “Well…I suppose I would try to remove the obstacle,” said Praseme as she climbed the stairs behind her.

  “Yes,” said Meluscia. “But what if removing the obstacle is a hard thing—something you’ve never done before, and it…scares you?”

  “You must find courage,” said Praseme. “You have to dare yourself to be bold, even if it seems daunting. Even if you are afraid of failing.”

  The stairs ended at a small open space, where a large bell hung from wooden beams. Meluscia walked to the stone wall and looked out into the stars. The night air smelled fresh and cool. She noted the stone wall reached up to her waist. It was not very tall. Below was a stone walking path that ran through a small courtyard

  “You sound like you’ve been brave yourself,” said Meluscia. “Like you’ve taken risks.”

  Praseme’s sudden laughter irritated Meluscia. It was so oblivious and happy.

  “Yes, there was a time when I had to be brave,” said Praseme, joining her at the wall. “When I first met my husband. Of course, your difficulties are probably far greater than mine, being about kingdom politics or some other weighty issue.”

  Meluscia stared down at the stones below. “Go on, tell me about when you first met your husband.”

  Praseme sighed. “He wasn’t a stable master when I first saw him but I felt as if I were only a young girl and he a man. He was so handsome, and his eyes always m
ade my heart turn to frosting, all sweet and airy.” Praseme paused. Meluscia saw her white teeth in the moonlight as a grin interrupted her story, but she quickly went on. “When I brought him his food from the kitchen, he always said kind things to me. Just little things. Like when I braided my hair different, he always noticed and told me he liked it. Or he’d say things about the way I served food. He said I smiled, and never looked bored or unhappy. He made me feel…appreciated.”

  Meluscia closed her eyes. Praseme was so completely in love, and why shouldn’t she be? Mica adored her. Meluscia had seen it with her own eyes. And as much as Meluscia hated to say it, she understood why he did. Praseme’s spirit was so charmingly uplifting.

  “One day, I simply took a deep breath and asked him if I might court him. I had for years wished our customs had it the other way around, like the Sea Kingdoms, where the man asks the woman for courtship. But, then, I realized the Makers had given women a great blessing at the Hold! I would then have had to do so much waiting, and for a man I might not love. Or, the gods forbid, I’d have to flirt to entice a man! Instead, I had the chance to go out and seize what I wanted.

  “So I asked him. And, well, you can guess the rest of the story.”

  Meluscia leaned forward, over the rail, breathing deep. Her heart was no longer numb. It had been hard as rock but Praseme’s voice and soul had melted it down into molten flesh. It pulsed with dark and hateful emotions, but the object of her disgust was new.

  Praseme reached out and put her hand on Meluscia’s back, then stepped close beside her. “You’re crying. What’s the matter, My Lady?”

  Meluscia glared at her. “My heart is sick,” she whispered fiercely. “Push me over this wall, Praseme. End this wretched life.”

  Praseme’s eyes went wide. “My Lady!” she exclaimed, “Do not think these things!”

  “If you knew what I’ve done,” said Meluscia, “you would do it gladly.”

  “I would not,” Praseme said with confidence. “Every life has value. If you’ve done something—some transgression—do not let it swallow you. Make it right with the rest of your life. We all do things we regret. The scorn of the gods is only upon those who live without regret. Without acknowledging their failings.”

  Meluscia turned and buried her face into Praseme’s shoulder. This unpolluted women had told her what she knew in her mind rationally, but hadn’t known in her heart, touchable, tangible. Meluscia had thought she knew the sacred writings…that the letters had bled into her soul so deeply she could live them out.

  She’d deceived herself.

  Praseme’s hands gently stroked her back. Meluscia felt this woman’s warm acceptance and wondered if this was what friendship felt like. As the Luminar’s daughter, she had been cloistered away from the common world outside the palace.

  If this was what she’d been missing her entire life—this open hearted honesty—now that she felt it, she didn’t want to let it go.

  Meluscia lifted her head and wiped her eyes with her gown. She took Praseme’s hands in hers and squeezed them. “Thank you. You’ve been like a friend. May I…call you friend?”

  Praseme’s moonlit smile was extravagant. “Of course you can!” she said.

  Praseme’s exuberance brought a smile to Meluscia’s face. Then suddenly she was laughing, and so was Praseme. Loud, unashamed laughter, and Meluscia’s heart drank it in.

  This was what a friend could do. This healing. She would never let it go.

  There came a sound from the stairs, and a form stepped out into the shadows.

  “Who’s out here!” said a rough voice.

  “It is Meluscia, the Luminess Imminent. Who are you?”

  “My apologies, I am Gavsawyer. I am here to ring the bell. Mayor Brucite is looking for you. Riders have come from the Verdlands.”

  CHAPTER 27

  MELUSCIA

  “The riders from the Verdlands are asking for the Luminar’s daughter,” said Mayor Brucite as he led Meluscia down the hall.

  “It must be urgent if they wish to speak with me at this hour. But I don’t understand how they found me. The Hold gave no announcement of my coming.”

  “I do not think they are sent from the King, for they are a strange looking group.” The Mayor turned and said in a low voice, “They say they have a Tongue with them. I counted only five in their party. Three men, a young woman and a child.”

  A Tongue?

  The news sent chills running over her skin.

  Was it possible?

  Had the Makers returned to aid men again? There hadn’t been a true prophet in fifty years.

  And if it was true, why did they want to see her?

  Anxiousness began to quicken her heart. Tongues were prophets who spoke good and bad, but on a whole, the histories were far more ripe with words of doom than of hope.

  _____

  The band from the Verdlands stood huddled together upon the stone floor. Meluscia descended the stairs into the Mayor’s hall and spotted the five travelers. By the look of their clothing and demeanor, they certainly were not sent from King Feaor. Each of the five wore poor farmers’ cloaks, or shirts, stained and frayed at the edges. And each had rough leather pants, even the girl. In truth, they looked more like a band of outcasts, or vagabonds. than a party she might imagine having a Tongue.

  The girl the Mayor had mentioned looked to be only fifteen or so. Of the three men, only one was not bent and ragged. The two older men had long grey beards, and one’s face was withered like dried fruit with a long thin nose. The younger man looked close to Meluscia’s age, and he held the hand of the small boy who peered at her from behind his leg.

  It dawned on Meluscia that this was her first official dealing as Luminess Imminent. The atmosphere felt thick with meaning. All eyes turned to her as her foot touched the floor of the hall.

  “Welcome, travelers,” said Meluscia. “I am told you were looking for me. Is there something I or the power of the Hold can do for you?”

  The young man spoke from where he stood, “Thank you for seeing us so quickly. I am Wiluit. A hunter from a region north of the Verdlands. The others with me are from far and wide. We would tell you more, but there is urgency behind our meeting you. We would have waited to talk with you when you woke in the morning, but there is one in our number who bears the Tongue of the gods. If you are the daughter of the Luminar, he has a message for you.”

  “I am the Luminar’s daughter,” said Meluscia, as calmly as she could manage. “What is the message?”

  The boy tugged at Wiluit’s shirt from where he hid behind the hunter’s leg. Wiluit took a knee and the boy whispered in his ear.

  Meluscia steadied herself.

  Wiluit frowned, and whispered something back to the boy. Finally, Wiluit rose to his feet. “This boy is the gods’ Tongue. He says you are not the daughter he is looking for. Is there another?”

  Meluscia teetered on the edge of relief and insult. The Speaker had not come for her? But…what in the heavens could the gods want with Savarah?

  “I have a sister, but she is not the blood daughter of the Luminar. She is his mercy child.”

  Wiluit nodded. “May we speak with her? I believe it is urgent.”

  Meluscia looked to Mayor Brucite. “Is Savarah still gone?”

  “She never arrived,” said the Mayor.

  Meluscia tried to recall the last words Savarah spoke to her. She had gone to talk to someone about the quickest path through the Verdlands. Who they were, or where they lived, Savarah had not said.

  Meluscia noticed something strange about the young girl who was with them. Her face had gone pale, and she was staring at Meluscia’s dress. Suddenly, the girl took hold of the old bearded man’s hand and he bent down. Quietly the girl spoke in his ear.

  Wiluit was about to speak when the old man stopped him with a throaty growl. “We need to have council,” he said.

  Immediately the five huddled together and began speaking quietly amongst themselves. It wasn
’t long before they stood and Wiluit rushed up to Meluscia, stopping just before her with a dire look.

  “Gather together men and weapons,” he said fiercely. “Your sister is in grave danger.”

  Terror gripped Meluscia. Wiluit’s eerie confidence in his own words was unnerving. The fear on his face was palpable. Savarah was in terrible danger.

  “Lord Mayor,” called out Meluscia, “Give me your best fighting men, and quickly.”

  The mayor turned to the handful of guards who were standing along the walls. “Rouse the others. Tell them to come now—they don’t have time to dress.”

  “What kind of danger is she in?” Meluscia asked Wiluit.

  Wiluit’s eyes held her own. He reached out and took her right hand in both of his. The bold move startled Meluscia. “A man and a woman are close to killing her. She is tied down in their house. I am sorry to have to tell you this.” Wiluit released Meluscia’s hand and went to a window and looked out. “The girl and the boy will join us,” he said loudly. “They will lead us to where she is. What is your sister’s name?”

  “It is Savarah,” said Meluscia, and turned to look again at the young girl in Wiluit’s group. She found the girl’s eyes were on her. Fear couched her face, but beyond that, there was something else. Something akin to disgust.

  And for some reason, Meluscia was certain it was directed at herself.

  More men rushed into the room with swords, looking disheveled and wearing dingy cloaks or the shirts they had slept in.

  “Meet us out front on your horses,” called Wiluit, moving to the door. “We ride immediately.”

  LOAM

  Hurrah!

  Your account of the Guardian’s abuse has sent the quorums at the Hall of Discourse into a frenzy. I can hardly believe the Guardians have made such a grievous mistake. The majority of Royals are in disarray and the Opposition Movement is both vindicated and emboldened. This could be the moment we seize control! I will announce tomorrow that I am shifting my allegiance to the Opposition.