The Bridge Kingdom

by Danielle L. Jensen

  “We’re your relief for the next hour,” Taryn said. “Use it wisely and get yourself some of that meat I smelled cooking.”

  After the soldier had departed, she said, “Don’t take it personally. Most everyone above a certain age lost a loved one or two to the war with Maridrina. Even after fifteen years of peace, it’s hard for them to see you as anything other than the enemy.”

  I am the enemy, Lara thought. “You don’t?”

  “I did, at first.” Taryn’s grey eyes stared off into the distance. “Until you saved my cousin’s life.”

  “Cousin?” Lara blinked, eyeing the muscular brunette in a different light. “Aren is your cousin?”

  “I see that surprises you.” Huffing out an amused breath, Taryn said, “My father was Aren’s father’s brother, which makes Nana my grandmother, too, if you’re keeping track.”

  She hadn’t been, but perhaps she should. The female guard was not exactly royalty, but very nearly. And there was nothing about her that had even hinted it was so. Taryn wore the same drab gear as the rest of the guards, lived in the spare accommodations of the barracks, cooked and cleaned with the rest of her comrades. Other than her weapons, which were quality, there was nothing about her that suggested wealth or privilege. Where does all the money go? Lara wondered, remembering the incredible revenue numbers she’d seen on the pages in Aren’s desk. As a child, she’d believed Ithicana must have palaces made of gold filled with everything they took from Maridrina and the other kingdoms, but so far she’d seen only modest luxury.

  “You could have stood by and let him be killed, but instead you risked your life to save him. That’s not the act of an enemy.”

  If only you knew. Lara’s stomach hollowed, her breakfast no longer sitting quite so well.

  Picking up a spyglass, Taryn panned the ocean, allowing Lara the opportunity to examine the shipbreaker. The catapult was large, made of solid wood and steel and mounted to a base that was bolted to the rocky ground beneath it. There were a number of levers and gears, and to either side of it were two identical, yet much smaller devices. A glance over her shoulder revealed a lumpy pile covered with grey-green canvas, which were undoubtedly the projectiles.

  Easing up the corner of the tarp, Lara eyed a stone that might’ve weighed fifty pounds. It didn’t seem big enough to have done the damage she’d seen enacted at Midwatch, but combined with enough force . . . She turned back to the shipbreaker to find Taryn watching her.

  The other woman grinned. “We launched Aren, once.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Lia and I. Though it was his idea, lest you think us total idiots.” Taryn patted the machine. “We were maybe twelve or thirteen, and he got the grand notion that it would be fun to see how high we’d fly. Though he was the only one who got to try it out.”

  “Did it . . . work?”

  “Oh, he flew all right. But what he didn’t account for was how much the landing would hurt.” She cackled merrily. “Thankfully there was a fishing boat nearby to pull him out. Nana had us lugging rock for weeks as punishment, and that was after Jor screamed at us up and down the entire island.”

  “He’s lucky not to have gotten himself killed.” And how different would Lara’s life have been if he had? Or would she even have a life at all? She could easily imagine her father receiving the news of the Prince of Ithicana’s untimely death only to turn around and exterminate all those involved in the plot that had depended on the Fifteen Year Treaty.

  Taryn grinned. “You could say that about half the things he does.” She patted the weapon again. “Want to give it a try?”

  Gasping out a laugh, Lara said, “And now I see to the heart of the ploy of bringing me down here.”

  “Not you. A rock.”

  “Oh.” Lara eyed the machine in a whole new light. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

  It was an incredible piece of machinery, able to be operated by a single individual, but given the weight of the stones, Lara was glad there were two of them. It rotated silently on its base, and various cranks allowed the user to adjust it to change the distance a stone could be thrown. The smaller catapults, she learned, were intended to mark distance, everything finely calibrated.

  “We’ll try to hit that piece of driftwood.” Under Taryn’s watchful eye, Lara lobbed small rocks at the floating debris until she struck it.

  “Nicely done, Your Majesty. Now we adjust the big one to the same distance like so.” The woman turned the cranks and Lara watched intently until she stepped back. “Now you do the honors.”

  Hands sweating with excitement, Lara took hold of the biggest lever of all and pulled. The catapult released with a tremendous crack, and they both stepped around the machine to watch as the rock sailed through the air and crashed into the driftwood.

  Taryn punched her fist into the air. “You sank your first ship!”

  There was a commotion behind them, and the soldier they’d relieved raced up next to them. “Raiders?” he demanded.

  “Tests.” Taryn’s voice was cool. “His Majesty ordered that all the shipbreakers be tested again. This one appears to be fine order.” Taryn nodded at Lara. “Shall we carry on, Your Grace?”

  Lara hid a smile. “By all means.”

  They spent the day touring the island testing the shipbreakers, and then found themselves back at the village for dinner, which they took standing around an open fire with nearly all the villagers in attendance. It was, Taryn told her, to honor those lives lost on the neighboring island of Serrith. Lara ate grilled meat and vegetables from the sticks on which they were skewered, drank the frothy beer from a mug that never seemed to empty, and warmed her hands against the flames when the night breeze turned cool.

  The villagers were wary of her at first, and Lara stood somewhat apart, listening as they told stories about the myths of Ithicana, of serpents and storms that defended the emerald isles. Of the ancient bridge itself, which their legends said was not built, but had grown out of the earth like a living thing. Their words rose and fell until children dozed off in their parents’ arms and were tucked under woolen blankets. Then instruments were brought out, drums and guitars and pipes, the music accompanying the men and women as they sang and danced, Taryn joining in with a surprisingly lovely soprano voice. They cajoled Lara to join in the singing, but she begged off, pleading a terrible singing voice, but it was mostly because she wanted to watch. And listen. And learn.

  When the gathering began to quiet, couples slipping off into the darkness hand in hand, the older folk forming circles where they gossiped and complained, passing around a smoking pipe from person to person, Taryn finally rested a hand on Lara’s shoulder. “We should get back before Nana comes looking for us.”

  Guided by the faint light of a lantern, they made their way up the narrow path, the sounds of the jungle wild and riotous around them.

  “I didn’t want to be a soldier, you know.”

  Lara cast a sideways glance at Taryn. “I’m not surprised. You strike me as more of a fisherwoman.”

  Taryn spat out a laugh, but her tone turned serious. “I wanted to go to one of the universities in Harendell to study music.”

  The universities in Harendell were renowned throughout all the kingdoms, north and south, but the idea that an Ithicanian would wish to attend struck Lara as odd, because it was . . . impossible. “But Ithicanians never leave?”

  “Because it’s forbidden.” Taryn waved her hand. “Oh, there are spies who go, of course, but it’s not the same. It’s a false life where you aren’t yourself, and I couldn’t abide that. To follow my dream as someone else—” She broke off. “I never told my parents, because I knew they wished for me to train as a warrior and eventually be named to Aren’s council. But I told my Aunt Delia.”

  Aren’s mother, Lara thought. The queen.

  “My aunt believed that the surest way to earn trust was to give it.” Taryn pulled on Lara’s arm, stopping her to allow something to slither across their path before carrying on.
“Everyone supported the treaty to end the war with Maridrina, but no one supported the inclusion of a marriage clause. No one wanted Aren to marry an outsider, especially a Maridrinian. But Aunt Delia believed it was the only way for us to ever have peace with our neighbors. The only way for people to stop seeing an enemy when we sat across the table to trade.”

  It’s a lie, Serin’s voice shrieked inside Lara’s head. Using kindness to get you to reveal what you should not. But Lara silenced the voice. “If she believed this marriage would stop Maridrinians from viewing Ithicana as an enemy, she was mistaken.”

  Taryn shook her head. “She didn’t want to change your kingdom’s beliefs. She wanted to change ours.”

  No more could be said, as they had reached Nana’s home, the old woman standing in the doorway, watching them approach. “The wayward children return.”

  “We kept busy, Nana.”

  “Busy drinking, from the smell of it.”

  A somewhat hypocritical comment given Lara could smell alcohol on the woman’s breath, a bottle and a half-filled glass sitting on the table behind her.

  “I’m off to bed,” Lara said, in no mood to be berated, but Nana caught Lara’s arm in an iron grip. With the other hand, she held out a bag that twitched and squeaked. “First you feed the snakes.”

  Lara eyed the bag with distaste. Not because she had any particular aversion to mice, but because she was sick of the old witch ordering her about like a servant. What she wanted to do was sneak out tonight to have a look at the bridge pier, but Nana probably intended to sit up watching her. “No.”

  Nana’s eyebrows rose. “No? Is the little princess too good to feed an old woman’s pets?”

  Lara’s fingers tightened reflexively. Then her eyes lighted upon the shelves above the snake cages, and an idea began to form. “I’m afraid of mice,” she lied, flinching away from the bag as Nana swung it her direction.

  “Get over it.”

  Lara was forced to catch the bag or have the mice scatter everywhere. Silently cursing the old woman, Lara plucked a mouse out of the bag by its tail, carefully unlatched one of the cages, and tossed the creature inside before moving onto the next.

  The snakes were all poisonous. Taryn had told her that Nana harvested their venom and used it to create antidotes, as well as medicines for various natural afflictions. There were dozens of vials of foggy liquid stored above the cages, and above those, countless more plants and remedies, all clearly labeled. Between each cage, Lara scanned the contents, smiling when she found what she was looking for.

  Dropping the still wriggling bag of mice, Lara shrieked, “It bit me!”

  “Which snake?” Nana demanded, a hint of panic in her voice.

  “Not a snake,” she sobbed, sticking one of her fingers into her mouth and biting down to create a realistic injury. “A mouse!”

  “Dammit, girl!” Nana snatched up the bag, but it was too late. The remaining mice were running every which way. “Taryn, catch the damn things before they get into my larder.”

  Lara wailed, climbing onto a chair while the rodents took advantage of their freedom. But the second Nana’s back was turned, she snatched a small jar from the shelves.

  “Catch them, catch them!”

  Taryn was dutifully chasing after the mice, but she’d drank enough that night that her movements were too slow, the rodents dodging easily until she turned to stomping on them with her heavy boots. Lara took the moment to uncork the jar.

  “Don’t kill them!” Nana had two mice by the tails and was shoving them into the bag. “The snakes won’t eat them if they’re dead!” She lunged for another mouse, and Lara leaned sideways and dumped a generous splash of the jar’s contents into Nana’s cup, once again grateful for the Ithicanian preference for strong drink.

  “Got one!” Taryn tossed the mouse into Nana’s sack. Lara corked the vial and shoved it back in its place on the shelf, then stood on her chair watching, uselessly, as the two women collected the remaining mice.

  Muttering under her breath, Nana proceeded to finish feeding the snakes, then she grabbed hold of Lara’s hand, examining the tiny bleeding wound. “Idiot. Will serve you right if it festers.”

  Jerking her hand out of the old woman’s grip, Lara glared at her. “I’m going to bed.” Her boots thudded imperiously as she made her way over to the cot that had been made up for her, and she curbed a smile as, from the corner of her eye, she watched Nana down the contents of her cup.

  Now to wait.

  19

  Lara

  Not an hour later, the home dark, Nana’s groan split the silence. A moment later, the old woman climbed from her bed and staggered out the door. On her feet in a flash, Lara went to the wall of vials, plucking up one she’d noticed earlier. Measuring out a drop, she held it beneath Taryn’s nostril, silently apologizing for the headache it would cause in the morning as the gently snoring woman snorted it up.

  Lara stepped outside into a pool of lantern light. A gentle breeze tugged at her hair, smelling of jungle and rain, the stars overhead only visible in patches through the growing cloud cover. Lara took the lantern, turned the flame up as high as it would go, then strode toward the small outbuilding where the toilet was located.

  Stopping outside, she smirked at the sounds coming from within, then rotated in a circle, peering into the darkness. As predicted, a tall Ithicanian man appeared. “Is there something I can help you with, Your Grace?” He hooked his thumb on his belt as he eyed her.

  “Oh!” Lara jumped, then pressed a hand to her mouth as though startled. “Well, I needed to . . .” She gestured at the building right as a tremendous fart reverberated from within, followed up by a groan of dismay. Lara might be out of her element in Ithicana, but when it came to narcotics, she was right at home. Nana was exactly where she expected her to be.

  The guard’s eyes widened in the lantern light. “Right.” He was obviously trying not to laugh. “I see. Well, perhaps you could . . .”

  “A bush will do.” Lara giggled, pushing the lantern at him. “Can you hold this for me?”

  Relieving herself behind the cover of a tree, Lara returned to the guard and retrieved the lantern. Holding it up, she marked how he squinted and blinked from the brightness. “Do you suppose she’ll be all right?” Lara gestured to the outhouse. “Do you think we should . . . ?”

  “No!” The thought of interrupting Nana in the toilet was clearly not something he cared to risk. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so.” Lara gave him a winning smile, then retreated to the house. Nana would be shitting for hours, but she’d be fine come morning. Snuffing the lantern, she hung it on the hook and went inside.

  But she didn’t shut the door all the way.

  Counting to five, she eased it back open, greeted by nothing but blackness. Her eyes hadn’t adjusted from the brilliant light of the lantern, but that meant neither would have the guard’s. Moving blind, Lara edged around the corner of the house where she waited until she could make out the shadows of the trees, then she dropped to the ground, crawling silently next to Nana’s garden wall until she was in the jungle.

  The trees on this island weren’t nearly as thick as they were on Midwatch, faint moon and starlight filtering through the leaves, allowing Lara to move at a slow trot up the path toward the bridge pier. Any sound she made was covered by the ocean breeze, but she paused occasionally to listen for sounds of pursuit. There were none.

  The faint scent of wet rock drifted over her nose, strange and yet familiar, and after a heartbeat, Lara recognized it as the unique odor of the bridge stone. Moving more cautiously, lest there be guards, she crept up the path until, through the trees, she made out the large shadow of the pier rising up into the night. A shadow that spread out north and south: the bridge.

  Picking her way through the trees, Lara searched for any sign of a guard, but there was none, so she made her way to the base of the pier. It was constructed from the combination of a natural rock out
cropping and bridge stone, and it held the bridge perhaps twenty feet above the ground. The terrain around it was rocky, so there was no obvious path leading to the entrance she knew was there. Lara ran her fingernail against the expanse of bridge stone that made up the pier, searching the base for the outline of the door, but she soon gave up. There were too many scratches and marks, and she didn’t have that much time. So she resorted to pushing on the surface, throwing her weight against the stone in the hopes it would open.

  Nothing.

  Swearing, Lara went to the part of the pier that was natural stone. Kicking off her heavy boots and tucking them into a shadow, she started climbing. Higher and higher she rose, back and shoulders burning from the effort. She reached the bottom of the bridge, feeling along the side of it and smiling as she found linear striations in the stone that provided just enough handholds for her to climb. Her fingers screaming at her, Lara scrambled up the side of the bridge, rolling onto the top.

  Darkness spread out beneath her in an endless sea of night, only a few pinpricks of light from the island’s interior breaking the velvety blackness. Moving slowly, Lara trailed her fingers down the middle of the bridge, knowing that she’d eventually find a mile-marker twin to the one inside.

  Sweat dribbled down her back, her internal clock telling her that she needed to get back to Nana’s house, but she pressed on until she found it. Then she strode back to the pier, counting her carefully measured paces.

  Only to hear voices coming from the opposite direction.

  “Goddamn idiots. What were they thinking parking a whole merchant party above Gamire for the night?”

  It was Jor. He and who knew how many others were on top of the bridge with her.