Bridge_Bridge & Sword_Apocalypse

by JC Andrijeski

  He supposed it didn’t matter.

  By the time he’d reached the last of their expressions, he found himself smiling humorlessly, right before he holstered the modified Glock.

  “I’m tired of this bullshit,” he said. “Take them out. Every last fucking one. If we get even one of them in real life, it’s worth it.”

  Scarcely a breath of silence followed his words.

  Then gunshots erupted all around him, echoing inside the high-ceilinged room.

  46

  LOVE IN VAIN

  REVIK STOOD THERE, fingers resting on the butt of his gun, unmoving as his people shot down every seer in that half-circle facing him.

  The other group, led by Loki, began taking out guards from the perimeter of the room, firing less often, but likely with significantly more accuracy, since those guards appeared to be firing back.

  Revik and the seven seers he’d taken down the elevator shafts were mostly protected by the stone columns that lined the center of the room. Even so, Wreg and Jon, along with Neela, moved Revik behind one of those columns as they covered him on both sides.

  Holding him in place, they began aiming their guns at the guards at the edges of the room.

  The others joined them seconds later, once they finished with the half-moon of seers around Menlim. They clustered behind columns to the right and the left of where Revik stood.

  Revik saw Loki’s team using the columns, too, as well as alcoves by the wall, sandwiched at the end of those long, medieval-looking wooden tables.

  A voice rose in Revik’s head.

  Do you honestly think it will be that easy, brother? the voice asked.

  Revik gave a humorless smile, watching Chinja pick off a guard running for one of the hidden doors in the long stone wall.

  No, Revik sent back, letting the Rook on the other end feel his amusement. But it’s fun, Terry. And I want to see some fucking blood right now, all things considered.

  Your daughter isn’t here, Terian sent, cautious.

  I’m sure you’re not here, either… old friend.

  We are… here in spirit.

  Not good enough, Terry. Give me my daughter. Then maybe I’ll let you leave the island alive. Can’t make any promises about your new girlfriend, though.

  We want to help you, Revi’––

  Revik let out an involuntary laugh.

  Even as he did, the gunshots began to lessen around him, then to die off entirely.

  He looked out across the half-circle to see the body of Terian looking up at him, holding a gunshot wound on his chest with a bloodied hand. Revik knew that was probably an illusion, too, but he unholstered his gun anyway, pointing it at the other seer’s head. It gave him a perverse pleasure to see the pained look on his face, real or not, especially since he lay sprawled, legs splayed, next to Cass’s broken body.

  “Yeah,” he said, advancing on the other seer. “You always did want to help me, Terry.”

  He fired the gun, and the body slumped to the stone floor.

  Looking around at the others, Revik realized they were staring at him, puzzled looks on their faces. Revik saw elation there, too, a kind of jacked-up euphoria in their light and eyes, maybe just from all the pent up tension finally getting a sliver of release.

  Revik saw the danger in that too, and realized the construct was affecting them in this, as well. The Dreng always liked a good blood-bath, regardless of who got hit.

  He was playing their game, even now.

  At the thought, he let his eyes roam around the crimson and black hall.

  Corpses lay in inelegant piles near several of the hidden entrances. Much closer to where he stood, the half-moon of seers lay crumpled and bleeding on the stone floor. Someone had put the screamer and the guy with the gut wound out of their misery. Tapestries by the walls were splattered with blood, brains, flesh, bone fragments. Blood pooled on the stone floor, leaking into crevices between rectangles of volcanic rock.

  Checking the magazine on his gun for the number of shots left, he snapped it back seconds later, realizing only then that he had blood on the front of his armored vest. Wiping his hand on a pant leg, he glanced around at the others.

  He hadn’t lost anyone at least, apart from Garensche, although Jax looked significantly worse again, and not only from the depletion of his light. He gestured with a few fingers to Jorag and Chinja, and the two of them immediately moved closer to Jax.

  They began feeding him light from the construct while Revik watched.

  Don’t give him too much, laoban, Wreg cautioned from beside him. We need your telekinesis more than we need him mobile right now. We cannot count on Adhipan to feed the construct down here. I do not feel them at all anymore.

  I know, Revik sent back. And understood.

  We could take him back up, Wreg added in his mind. At the nearest opportunity… as soon as we’re free of this damned construct. He looked around, his long jaw firm. Unless you think we should all go up now, laoban? Or down, to whatever transport they have in this place? Hesitating again, he added, You know it is possible this is all distraction. That they have already left.

  Revik nodded, feeling his jaw harden.

  He turned over the other man’s words, trying to view them objectively.

  Wreg could be right. Of course he could.

  On the other hand, why would they lure him here, only to leave?

  The whole fucking thing still made no sense.

  He re-holstered his gun, fighting to think. Loki and the other seers were approaching from the other side, milling around his own group and exchanging smiles, arm clasps, and relieved nods. Revik noticed Neela and Pagoj giving one another particularly long looks, even touching hands, and noticed the light thread that wove between them with a passing glance.

  Shit. He hadn’t known the two of them were dating.

  Then again, he’d probably missed a lot over the past few months, particularly in the interpersonal realm.

  Hopefully that meant Loki’s group were the real seers. He pinged Wreg anyway, reminding him to keep an eye on them, and do what he could to scan their lights.

  Fishing into his upper vest pocket for a hiri, Revik frowned, realizing he might not have thought to bring any with him. His brow cleared, and he let out a grateful sigh when Jorag tossed him a stick. Jorag offered to light it for him, too, with a silver lighter he produced from one of his vest pockets. Touching his hand in gratitude, Revik couldn’t help noticing that the other man’s fingers were still warm from firing his gun.

  He leaned over the flame, inhaling on the end of the hiri.

  When it caught, Jorag clicked the lighter shut, and Revik exhaled a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke, gesturing a second thanks at the other man. He looked around the castle-like room a second time, and realized the construct had gone silent. All those bright lights he’d seen, pulling his aleimi and his mind––those had vanished, too.

  “Feels dead in here now,” Maygar said, echoing Revik’s thoughts.

  “Yeah.” Revik exchanged a look with him.

  Maygar’s full mouth curled into a frown. “What now? What was all this? Do you think they are even here, boss? Or is this all just bullshit?”

  Revik smiled faintly at the “boss” tag, even as he took another drag of the hiri before offering it to his son. Maygar calling him “boss” hadn’t thrown him the way Maygar calling him “dad” had earlier, but he found it still touched him.

  Maygar took the hiri from him with a touchingly grateful look on his face.

  After pulling on the stick deeply, he handed it back.

  Revik noticed only then that the younger seer’s hands were shaking. He could feel flickers of intensity in Maygar’s light, but couldn’t quite tell if what he was sensing was predominantly fear, predominantly adrenaline, or some mixture of both.

  “Come on.” He took another drag of the cigarette, inclining his head towards the only visible door in the room, which lay straight ahead, a stone entrance leading into a dar
ker tunnel. “If nothing else, we can buy Balidor and the others time.”

  “Or they can buy their own people time to take out Balidor and the rest of those on the Displacement Lists,” Loki muttered.

  Revik looked over. The Middle Eastern seer was staring at the bloody tapestries across from them, a frown on his face. Catching Revik’s look, he clicked softly, adding,

  “…While they distract us in here, laoban. This has occurred to you, yes?”

  Revik had to concede his words.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “It has. And yes. It’s a distinct possibility.” He hesitated, glancing at Wreg and Jon, then at the others. “Recommendations? What do others feel? What seems like the greatest risk? Do we go back up? Try to support the others at the hotel?”

  Revik knew what he was really asking them.

  They knew it, too.

  Revik likely wouldn’t survive another attempt on Menlim, Cass, Terian or the rest of them. He’d start to lose control over the higher levels of his light within a week, if not sooner. To assist Balidor, to get everyone out of here, via ship or plane or whatever else, would take hours––if not days. By then, Menlim and his people would be gone, assuming they hadn’t left already. It would take more days to find them. Possibly weeks. Possibly months.

  Probably more time than Revik had.

  If he wanted to go after his daughter, this was it. Now or never.

  “Why the tunnel, laoban?” Jorag said. “Is it a feeling, or––”

  “Yes,” Revik cut in.

  Looking around at all of them, he sighed, then told the truth.

  “I feel her strongest there,” he admitted.

  “Your child?” Wreg said.

  “No.” Revik felt his jaw tighten, then shrugged. “…Allie.”

  He felt Maygar flinch. The younger seer’s light recoiled in the same set of seconds.

  “You think it is the child?” Wreg repeated, his voice more cautious. “…That you are feeling, I mean? Is it her light somehow, entwined with the child’s?”

  Revik thought about the question, then shook his head.

  “No,” he said, clicking softly. He rested his hands on his hips, exhaling. “I think it’s Cass. But she’ll have my daughter with her. I felt that much, from the small amount of contact we’ve had. She thinks the child is hers. Not Allie’s. Not mine. Not even Terian’s… or Shadow’s. Hers. She wouldn’t leave her, not even temporarily. Definitely not with me here. Not unless she had a damned good reason.”

  Revik glanced around, and saw a few of the others nodding.

  He saw agreement on Jon’s face, and Wreg’s, and even Loki’s, and realized they must have felt enough off him and possibly off Cass to share the same impression. He also noticed he wasn’t the only one smoking. Jorag had lit a hiri for himself, somewhere in the pause after he offered one to Revik. Loki took a hiri off Jorag while he watched. So did Neela.

  Jorag’s hands shook worse than Maygar’s, Revik noticed.

  He took another breath.

  “So?” he said, indicating towards the door.

  He saw a few exchanged looks circulate among the seers. He glanced at Jon.

  “Do you feel her?” he asked. “Cass?”

  Jon shook his head. “No. But I think you’re right. Someone’s still here. In this building.”

  “It could be illusion,” Loki pointed out.

  Next to Maygar, Chinja nodded, still gazing around the medieval-looking hall.

  “Why?” Wreg said, aiming his words at Jon. “What makes you think they are still in the building, brother? Can you tell us more about what you feel? Or anything about why they would remain here? Why they would stay? Especially now?”

  There was a silence while Jon stared at the stone floor.

  Then he shook his head, his eyes clicking back into focus.

  “I don’t know.” He exhaled heavily, looking at Revik. “They want something from you. I don’t know what. Is it possible they could keep you alive, man? Is there some machine that could do it? Even without Allie?”

  “No,” Loki said, making a negative gesture with one hand. “It is not possible, brother.”

  Wreg shook his head, obviously in agreement.

  “Is there any way Terian could use your body?” Jon pressed. “Part of it, maybe?”

  Wreg shook his head. “No. It is highly unlikely. For the same reasons.”

  “But I’ve heard stories.” Jon glanced at Revik, then, for some reason, at Maygar. “Isn’t there some way to keep a bonded mate alive? Maygar? Didn’t you tell me that once? That there’s a way to do it?”

  Maygar flushed dark red, glancing at Revik. He didn’t answer.

  “They could try to re-bond him somehow,” Wreg said, making another dismissive gesture with his tattooed hand. “It is said this has happened, but truthfully, brother, this is mostly myth. Re-bonding is nearly always a failure. With the previous mate already dead, I would say failure is closer to one hundred percent. Re-bonding only works if the bond between mates is already weakened. Meaning, if one in the pair were having an intimate affair, or if for other reasons the two were pulled apart. Both things are extremely rare with seers who have developed a physical dependency on one another. At the very least, the surviving seer would have needed to be immersed in their new bond-mate’s light long before their first mate died.”

  Maygar frowned, staring at Wreg. “But it’s been done before?” He glanced at Revik. Nerves touched his eyes, along with a flicker of what might have been guilt. “It’s been done, hasn’t it? I read about this, in one of the feeds.”

  Wreg made another non-committal gesture.

  “The experiments they’ve done with that, with re-bonding… they are highly publicized, little brother, for the inherent drama for seers and the wishful thinking in some cases. In ninety-nine percent of these cases, however, the attempts to re-bond do not even prolong the life of the surviving seer. I have only ever heard of one successful re-bonding following the death of a life mate, and in that case, the male seer in question fell in love with the woman they re-bonded him to before his first wife died. The two of them, this male and his new mate, they also had some unusual light connection, which facilitated the transition. Perhaps if the Sword had been bonded to another prior to meeting the Bridge, then he and the Bridge could have re-bonded following his first mate’s death… you see? It would have to be that type of connection. Or something equally unusual, something that transcends this particular life.”

  Wreg looked at Revik, his eyes holding a faint apology.

  “It is like the holy grail to some seers, to poach a bonded mate,” Wreg added. “Fixated seers, like Ditrini. That sick fuck is not unique in this… in the wanting of one who has established a life-bond with another. But it is fantasy. Pure fantasy. Usually, this does not work even when both seers are cooperating. If the seer in question does not cooperate…”

  Wreg trailed, making a vague but expressive gesture with his hand.

  “…It is beyond unlikely, my friends,” he finished. “Menlim would be a fool to pursue such a thing, particularly if it endangered the intermediaries already under his control. Much less the daughter of the two oldest souls known to exist in the physical plane.”

  Loki nodded at Wreg’s words, his eyes showing full agreement.

  Maygar had paled the longer Wreg spoke. Looking at his son, Revik frowned slightly, but didn’t probe him to understand the reaction. He had a feeling he could guess; it wasn’t something he really wanted or needed confirmed.

  For a long moment, none of them spoke.

  Revik looked back at the stone archway. He’d been about to speak, to muster them all into movement once more––

  When the room altered around them yet again.

  Or maybe, that time, Revik was the thing that altered.

  Maybe they’d finally taken what little remained.

  REVIK PLUNGED INTO dark.

  The floor fell away.

  He dropped, fast that time… com
pletely out of control.

  It wasn’t the slide. This was full free-fall. Nothing touched his body, not even to hurt him. Nothing existed under him; there was nothing to grasp at, to even touch. He could feel nothing with his light; he got no glimpse of what the building looked like around him.

  It felt like a trap door had opened under his feet.

  He continued to try, fighting to track the physical plane with his light.

  He looked for Jon––for Maygar––fighting to hold onto the anchors in their lights, the shield Jon held around him, even in the seconds leading up to the change.

  As he realized himself in free-fall, he reached out, grappling, looking for walls, feeling his fingers touch and slide against something slick and cold, like a tunnel of ice. Images evoked the cave again; panic locked his heart, his throat, his lungs. His mind spiraled, until he lost control of it altogether. He saw himself lost in the dark, left to die alone in the dark. He threw his body at the nearest wall, trying to grab hold, conscious of being alone, of having lost the threads holding him to Jon––to his son.

  They’d taken him. Only him.

  Revik cried out, feeling the shield go, even as he fought to stop his fall.

  Seconds later, he hit, hard.

  He bent his legs instinctively, letting his body go soft as he rolled. Even so, his knees hit hard, as did his feet, jarring his ankles. He had his hand on the holster of his gun even as he came to a stop. He didn’t try to move other than to pull out the Glock, aiming it up before he could see in the wash of light that met his eyes.

  Wherever he was, it was bright––too bright.

  Panting, he stared up, using his aleimi cautiously without the shield.

  He held up his free hand, fighting to see against the brightness after all that dark. He found himself staring up at a shockingly familiar set of faces.

  His childhood guardian, Menlim stood in the center, as before.

  “We tried it the polite way, nephew.” Menlim’s voice was soft. A faint sadness colored his words. “I’m afraid now we’re going to have to be more direct, as you phrased it.”

  Revik stared up, fighting his mind back on line, fighting to think. He watched numbly as the tall Sark checked his wrist, looking at a watch Revik recognized from years and years past, seeing it as clearly in his mind as he did on the bony wrist.