Bridge of Legends- The Complete Series

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  She’d stopped looking at individual bodies. She couldn’t bear it after the first few. She could feel madness calling to her through the guilt and despair she felt at the sight of them. And she was worried that if she looked – if she saw one more face that was almost familiar, if she saw one more little body too small to be an adult’s – she might not keep her mind long enough to help Jhinn and Tamerlan to safety. She owed them that much at least. After all, they’d been trying to help her. They hadn’t known what that would mean for the rest of the city.

  And to save them, she might have to return to the cities, despite what Jhinn thought. Despite her bone-deep shame. Tamerlan was looking worse by the hour and heading into the waves was long, slow work.

  Tamerlan hadn’t known he would be freeing a dragon, letting him loose to blaze his wrath in the night on the unsuspecting. To be fair, neither had she.

  “Where do you think the dragon is,” she said again. She said it almost every hour since he disappeared a day ago. She said it so much that she thought she was saying it even when she was silent.

  “Not here. That’s all that matters,” Jhinn said. “I thought that perhaps he was heading to the mountains.”

  What would a dragon want with mountains? There was nothing there. Nothing but cold and silence. Maybe that was what he wanted. Marielle was pretty sure there were still buildings stuck to his back like barnacles when last they’d seen him setting ships on fire.

  She swallowed as their little boat hit another swell, lifting up in the waves, broken wood and tangled debris lifting up with them. From this height, she could see the distant white sails. A fleet had arrived the same night that their city had been destroyed. A fleet of mysterious ships that remained out in the distance two days after their arrival. The sight of them formed a knot in her belly. Merchants wouldn’t sail in such numbers or wait so far out. What could they want from the five cities?

  She’d seen a ship leaving Jingen at dawn on the first day and Jhinn had thought that perhaps that ship was going out to greet the fleet, but it had headed north instead, toward Xin. She’d wondered if it was full of refugees until Jhinn pointed out the Lord Mythos’ banner on the flag. A ship of Landholds or government officials was much more likely than refugees. And they’d carved through the survivors in the water like they were driftwood, never pausing for a moment to haul anyone else aboard. That had made her stomach turn. The wealthy always got what they needed at the expense of the rest – even now when they were all ruined, rich and poor alike.

  Despite Jhinn’s insistence that they could go south if they got far enough out, the current was dragging them ever north and east, out past the Jingen cliffs to where she could almost make out the arm of the Cerulean River flowing into the ocean in the Bay of Tears.

  Every other boat she’d seen – and there weren’t nearly as many as she’d hoped there would be – had been making toward the Bay of Tears just like that government ship. By that route, Xin City wasn’t far. Help would be in Xin – or at least commerce – and right now Marielle thought that would be a good thing. Tamerlan needed help from a real healer.

  She swallowed, looking down at Tamerlan as she rowed. How long would he last with a fever like that? She’d tried to poultice his wound and keep it clean, but in the bottom of the boat, constantly sprayed by ocean water – ocean water that was filled with the dead – it was easy to see how infection had set in.

  “We should turn to Xin,” she said for the third time that hour, shuddering at the thought even as she spoke the words. “I think Tamerlan needs a healer.”

  “It will be impossible to find one in the surge of refugees. We can tend to him here. He can fight this off.” That was what Jhinn had said in response every time. He sounded as tired by it as Marielle was.

  Their boat crashed down the wave, and Marielle’s belly turned with the spin of the little craft as Jhinn steered them into another set of breakers. She glanced back at his stony expression. He wasn’t going to change his mind on trying to flee the five cities. A boy with a look on his face like that one had made up his mind. Even with the waves and current fighting them constantly for the past two days, Jhinn remained set on the course.

  “I’m not sure he has the strength to fight it.” Her belly knotted at the thought. She’d changed his dressing twice today and it was still spotted with blood and yellow puss. That couldn’t be good.

  “Why did he fight like he did when he rescued me? So strong and mighty one minute, and then weak the next?” she asked Jhinn.

  “All I know is that he saved me when no one else cared. They were going to sink my gondola – two Watch Officers,” Jhinn explained as they rowed. “You know I can’t go ashore. And there were no other boats near who could take me. Maybe one would have happened by while I swam. Maybe not. It might have killed me.”

  “He killed a lot of people in the Temple District,” Marielle said, still not able to balance Tamerlan the kind-hearted savior of both her and Jhinn with Tamerlan the ravening killer.

  “You sure it was him?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Jhinn shrugged. “All I know is that he’s only done good things around me. Only ever wanted to save people from harm.”

  As they rose over another wave a small fishing trawler came into view, the sail ripped and ragged, flapping in the wind. Burn marks scarred the sides of the boat and a hunk of wood was missing from the bow, letting seawater pour into the larger craft.

  “Ho!” a woman called from within the boat. At the sight of them, she scrambled up onto a bench, waving her arms above her head, her long grey hair wet and wild in the wind and spray. “Ho, there! If it’s to the sea you take, turn back!”

  Marielle glanced at Jhinn. His expression hadn’t changed, his eyes still set forward.

  “If you value your lives, turn back!” the woman called, while around her three others worked the oars. “We were fishing with five other boats on the shoals off the Fang when they came – a fleet of ships and not merchant ships as we see in summers, oh no! They call themselves The Retribution and we are the only ones who escaped their wrath!”

  A breeze had stirred up, blowing into Marielle’s face in a way that made it hard to catch the scent of the boat. She frowned, blind without her sense of scent.

  “The Retribution?” This time, when Marielle glanced back Jhinn’s face was pale. She could barely catch the worry of his scent – ochre and smoked paprika swelling into the air around him. “Queen Mer’s Retribution?”

  “The very same! No ship or boat shall be allowed to pass! We were warned to return to the land. We were consulting together when they attacked. We are the only ones who survived. If you value your lives, turn back!”

  “Mer’s spit!” Jhinn cursed, but he was already turning the gondola around, fighting not to be swamped by the rolling swell as he worked his oar, the smell of fear swirling in his every movement.

  Marielle swallowed, wiping her brow. She finally had a whiff of the people in the boat and it backed up the words of the people – fear in lightning blue and acid scent was laced with the sparkling silver and mint of truth. As they turned, she looked over her shoulder at the white sails in the distance. There would be no escape by sea. A fleet behind, a dragon ahead. They’d wasted two days on nothing.

  “It will be faster when we aren’t fighting the swell,” Jhinn called. “Already, our speed picks up.”

  “Tamerlan needs a healer,” Marielle said, despite the worry swirling in her belly. The wind was whipping up, stealing words from their mouths so that speaking was an effort but Tamerlan looked worse. His face was drained of all color and his breath appeared shallower. “If we can get him to Xin, perhaps we can find one.”

  She stopped to tend to him, letting the swell speed the boat forward as she placed her oar down and crouched over Tamerlan. She wiped his brow gently as his beautiful face screwed up with pain. He hadn’t been conscious since their flight from Jingen City and if she didn’t get him to a knowledgeable healer, he
never would be conscious again. And then she’d never really know if he was a kind man to whom she owed everything or a horrific killer who would need to be put down like a rabid dog.

  She picked up her oar again, pulling against the waves with Jhinn, letting worry tick through her like a clock tracking the moments of their lives. If only she could speed it up and get him to safety sooner.

  2: Xin City

  Marielle

  The Cerulean River flashed blue and clear – as different from the Alabastru as two rivers could be. But here in the island city of Xin, the water was high. It raged around the cliffs and harbors were few.

  Boats of every type and shape clogged the docks and moorings in a forest of masts and a jungle of seaside scents flashing white and blue and green across Marielle’s senses in a way that was almost calming. Fish and trade wares, sailors and ship-owners, hard work, hopes and dreams, longing for home, sentimental memories, all the scents of a harbor tangled together in a tapestry of sea and sun and sand.

  Pigeons flew in and out of the city from every direction. Marielle longed to read the messages they carried. Were there plans about what to do next now that the dragon had surfaced? News about survivors – maybe even about her mother? She felt a tug at her heart at the thought of Variena. She was a survivor. If she was alive, she would stay that way. And yet, Marielle felt a tug like she should be heading back to Jingen and sifting through the ruins looking for her. What if she was trapped somewhere? What if she needed help? No. Thinking like that would only drive her mad. She had to stick to what was at hand.

  Refugees choked the entrances to the canal system of the city, waiting in long lines to be admitted through the city’s locks, their small boats tattered and ragged and their occupants hunched desolately in the confines of their hulls, their eyes hollow and clinging and their scents black with despair.

  Marielle tugged at her scarf, trying ineffectually to block out the black licorice whorls of their despair.

  Jhinn watched the lines of refugees from a distance, his eyes narrow as if looking for something specific. Occasionally they would flick up to the sky, as if watching for the dragon to emerge again. He’d been like that for the past hour as they neared the island city while Marielle tried to get Tamerlan to drink something.

  Every time he squinted she followed his gaze to where shapes of cloud and sky formed hints of dragon and she shuddered.

  “Time,” Tamerlan murmured. “He’s getting free. Have to stop ... time.”

  “How about if we work on that when you feel better?” Marielle said gently. He looked so young like this and so vulnerable. His height and broad shoulders seemed slight when he was stretched out in the boat, as if much of his physical strength came from the struggling spirit within.

  He smelled – golden. Like himself. Warm honey, cinnamon, and sunshine laced with hints of strawberry and tarragon. She had grown used to the smell over the days at sea, but that didn’t make it less potent. It still threatened to steal away her good sense if she let her self-control slip. She didn’t dare do that. She didn’t dare play with that kind of fire. Any girl who let herself obsess over a monster got the punishment she deserved.

  And it didn’t help that she couldn’t tell if she were smelling him when she smelled that golden scent – or if it was her own attraction – or if it was something else. It was all such a terrible tangle, like boat lines left in the bottom of a ship. She’d watched sailors on the docks working for hours to free the tangles and knots that developed over time. Her emotions tangled with who Tamerlan was and with this insanely strong attraction she felt for him into a thing that seemed to have a life of its own. It was easiest to think of it simply as her own attraction. It was easiest to manage it that way – to shove it into the back of her mind and pretend she wasn’t drunk on it whenever she was around him. It was worse than blood. Worse than magic.

  But now Tamerlan’s scent was also edged with corruption as the infection flared through it, curling the edges with hints of sickly green.

  She turned up to Jhinn. “We will have to pick a place sometime, Jhinn. He needs help.”

  “Cool your head, sister,” Jhinn growled. “I’m looking for something.”

  “You’ve been looking for an hour.” Marielle tried to keep her tone mild, but irritation was slipping out.

  The longer Jhinn waited for his perfect opening – whatever it was! – the longer Tamerlan suffered without help. He was so hot she could have boiled a kettle on him, his cheeks flushed and his brow pale. She’d seen fevers like this before. He was well past her ability to do anything for him.

  And the sun setting meant another night in the boat with the cold of night adding to the clammy water in the hull and that would only make things worse.

  The voices in the boats nearby were hushed and sedate – as if no one else hoped to make it into Xin tonight either. There were boats dotting the sea all around them as they worked their way toward Xin. Houseboats of the Waverunners, packed with their whole lives and families. Gondolas with water-soaked refugees and rafts of broken timbers and frayed ropes with people clinging to them for dear life.

  With this many near Xin, Marielle couldn’t even imagine how many would be along the jagged coastline between here and Jingen or flooding into Yan further up the Alabastru River. Anyone on foot would have headed to Yan. Likely, that city was as choked by refugees as this one was. But thank the Legends it was summer and not the depths of winter. But what would they do when the weather cooled and sleeping outside became life-threatening?

  Out in the bay, the dark ship flying Lord Mythos’s flag was at anchor along with merchant vessels and two of Xin’s warships. They seemed unconcerned by the faraway white sails, as if a line of invaders hadn’t emerged from the hazy horizon only two days ago. A little further out a ships’ boat of a strange design was rolling in with the waves from far out at sea. Another fisherman, perhaps. Sent home by the fleet.

  Tamerlan began to cough and she hurried to put down her oar and check him. Rasping, barking coughs shook him as his face whitened. This wasn’t good.

  She looked at the clogged locks and then back to where Jhinn piloted the boat. His lips drew a firm line and then they rocketed forward, weaving between boats and squeezing into cracks too small for a normal-sized craft.

  Curses followed them, but Marielle clenched her jaw and ignored them.

  “We all need shelter! Wait your turn!”

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Dragon’s blood in a bowl!”

  She steeled her expression, ignoring their anger and cursing. If Jhinn didn’t hurry, she didn’t think Tamerlan would survive. She held him down as he thrashed, trying to keep his arms tucked in so he didn’t damage them in his agitated state.

  Fear rolled off him in electric blue and acid scented waves, making Marielle’s stomach roll and heave. And mixed in it all was a residue of magic – turquoise and gold flecked lilac and vanilla – that reminded her constantly of how he’d been injured in the first place. The residue should be gone by now, and yet it lingered and flared with his fever.

  “Escaping,” he muttered. “Escaping his binding. Coming free.”

  “It’s okay,” she murmured, gently wiping his brow. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

  He muttered indistinctly and worry welled up in her. His golden scent that drew her in as strongly as a ship’s cable and pulley – that scent wavered and flickered under his fever as if his life were flickering and uncertain.

  “I can get you as far as the canals,” Jhinn said as he continued his determined press through the crowds of boats, dodging swings of oars and the spittle of angry refugees. “But I’ll have to leave you on edge. I can’t go on land.”

  “Where will you go?” Marielle asked tightly.

  “I don’t know. Somewhere close. This is bound to settle down. I’ll leave a message at the message tree – the closest one to this canal entrance.”

  Marielle looked up from Tamerla
n, ripping her gaze away from his tormented features. They were in a lock, rising up with the water. Already? Jhinn had been faster than she could have hoped for. She ignored the angry glares around her. She could already smell their fury and envy, swirling up to her nose in gusts of green musk and garnet pitch. She’d smelled enough fury for a lifetime already.

  “No better than the rest of us,” a woman in ruined silks said from her gondola beside theirs.

  “Yes. That’s a good plan,” she said, holding Tamerlan down again as his wracked coughs shook the gondola. He gasped a breath, seeming to choke on it before coughing again. Each cough tore at her heart. They should have come here first. They shouldn’t have tried to flee for the sea.

  “He had bags packed for himself and his sister,” Jhinn said, pointing to the tiny trailing craft tied to his gondola. “They’re stored in there. I’ll give them to you.”

  Marielle nodded, scanning the canal as the door of the lock opened and they surged forward into the canal. There were three more locks above them before they’d reach the city. Could Tamerlan last even that long? Did she want him to? She still didn’t know if she owed him everything, or if the world would be better if she let him die like this.

  A moan escaped his lips and when she took his limp hand it was cold and clammy.

  “Hold on,” she soothed. He was innocent until she proved otherwise. She needed to remind herself of that. “Just hold on, Tamerlan.”

  What would she do when Jhinn dropped them off along a canal? She couldn’t even lift him on her own. Maybe there would be coin in one of the bags. Maybe she could barter for help.

  She tried to keep her voice confident and soothing as they rode through the clogged waters up the levels of locks into Xin. Her attention was focused completely on Tamerlan. Was it her imagination, or had his breathing grown fainter?

  It was hard not to remember that only a few days ago he’d been an Alchemist’s Apprentice. A shadowy quarry to her. A kind friend and good worker to those who knew him. And now what was he? Destroyer of cities? Killer of hundreds? And a broken, vulnerable man who looked like he was barely out of his teens, just now filling out in muscle and strength, the stubble on his jaw still short despite days without a razor.