Bridge of Legends- The Complete Series

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  “On your feet again, I see,” a woman said as he reached the floor of the store. That was definitely what this was. He’d been in and out of shops like these every day since becoming an apprentice.

  “What is this place?” The glass jars held leaves and powders that he recognized. They were laid out in such tidy rows – and alphabetically. He felt the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

  “Spellspinner’s Cures. And see? You’re cured.” The woman’s tone was dry and her dark hair was cropped at the shoulders in a blunt line. She wore a wide apron and worked at the counter, but Tamerlan thought it might be for show. Her cloth wiped the counter in a circle – not actually cleaning anything or polishing, just moving like she was pretending to work.

  Quiet voices echoed from the back where storage was likely located under the loft, and two women in white aprons were carefully dusting glass jars behind her. No, she was definitely not just a spice merchant. He’d seen her type before. Guild Masters. She was powerful in her craft and she didn’t just tend counters – or sick people.

  The noises of the men in the back weren’t casual with banter either. Even though he couldn’t hear the words, the tones were sharp with purpose.

  He gave her his best smile. “It seems I owe you a debt.”

  “It’s being paid,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Ah. She saw him as a pawn. But she didn’t think she needed him. She just needed the people she was using him against.

  “How generous,” he said with a smile. “By who, if I may ask?”

  “A girl with dark hair who either wants to marry you or kill you. I haven’t worked out which yet, but I have worked out how she’s going to pay.”

  Marielle. Memories flashed through his mind of blurry glimpses of her face through fever dreams. Had she sat with him while he was ill? There was a comforting note to the memories.

  “Well, a man’s debts are his own,” he said, smiling in a charming manner – or so he hoped. “Maybe there is a way I can settle the debt myself.”

  She smirked, eyeing him up and down. “There would be in any other circumstances, but not this time, I’m afraid.”

  She sounded almost regretful.

  “And where can I find this dark-haired beauty?” he asked.

  “Did I say she was beautiful?” Offense filled her dry tone. She sighed. “She’ll be back tonight. She’s staying here. Don’t wander too far. Your shoulder will bleed if you put in too much effort and I need to finish the job I started if I’m going to collect payment.”

  She waved her fingers at him as if dismissing him.

  “Where can I find the Libraries?” He wouldn’t really go to the libraries, but it was a good idea to pretend he was doing something innocent, and not just running away from humanity.

  “This city is laid out almost exactly the same as Jingen, except with different rock shapes and different canals. All the cities of the five plains are. Did you know where the Libraries were there?” Her answer was irritated, like he was wasting her time.

  “Thank you.”

  He slipped out the door, hitching his bag on his shoulder and stepped into the streets of Xin. The bells were ringing the hour, a thousand peals of silver and brass in a cacophonous salute to Grandfather Timeless.

  And doesn’t he crow about that during Dawnspell! A whole holiday dedicated just to him! Byron sounded bitter.

  Along the street, someone was sweeping. Dawnwait. He’d forgotten about the beginning-of-year celebration. The cleaning and fast were always crowded out by the excitement and revelry of Summernight. This year, he’d give anything to be able to clean the memories of that festival from his mind. If only it were as easy as sweeping the streets or hauling out the trash that had accumulated over the year.

  Where was that dragon now? Was it still tormenting Jingen, or had it moved on to something else? Was it about to appear in the sky here?

  He tensed, looking up.

  Dragon. Dragon. Dragon.

  Thanks, Ram.

  “News for a coin! News!” someone was calling from around a street corner, and someone must have paid him because his words were chipper and loud enough for Tamerlan to hear.

  “Renli Di’sham, son of the Lord of Yan is betrothed to wed Amaryllis Zi’fen, daughter of Landhold Zi’fen. Together, they will announce this year’s Dawnspell Hunt in the Government District!”

  He froze against the door of Spellspinner’s Cures, his first thought one of relief – she’d survived! And his second one full of trepidation. His sister was about to marry the Lord of Yan’s son. Had she agreed to that willingly? Perhaps, before he left Xin, he should pay a visit to the Government District. If she looked happy during the announcement, then he wouldn’t have to worry. If she did not ... if she gave any sign that she was being coerced ... well, he had ways to deal with that.

  Yes! Lila said in his mind. Finally, some fun again.

  It wouldn’t hurt anything just to check, would it?

  8: Betrothed and Betrayed

  Tamerlan

  It was harder to hike through the city than Tamerlan had expected. His wound flared with constant bursts of pain and he had to stop frequently to lean against a pole or rail just to catch his breath and stop the spinning of his head. He gritted his teeth against the nearly constant pain alerts as he climbed a long flight of stairs from the Spice District to the Government District.

  Xin was a much more vertical place than Jingen had been, an island of rock and sudden spikes of granite – maybe. Or maybe not. Because if Jingen had been built on a dragon sleeping in mud, then wasn’t Xin built on a dragon sleeping on the stone? Perhaps this stairway had been chiseled into rock-hard scales along the dragon’s rib cage. Perhaps that explained why the stairway seemed to nestle between two ripples in the rock. Were they jutting ribs?

  He paused for a moment, catching his breath, and turned to look behind him. From this high perch, it was easy to see the Spice and Trade districts of Xin perched on either side of the locks of the main canal. The rooftops – red tiled and beautiful – rolled out as far as the surrounding walls where small figures strode, alert and ready. There were more figures than he would have expected. Perhaps the local army was growing with the new dragon threat to defend against. Past them, the Cerulean flowed, and past that were the rolling plains that ended on a horizon plumed with smoke.

  The sight of the smoke stole his breath away. His fault. All his fault. He’d done it for Amaryllis – and then she hadn’t even needed his help. What hubris to think he was her only hope. What shocking pride.

  But he’d saved Marielle. He barely knew her – only knew that she was dedicated to the law and that she’d showed compassion to him. Would he have risked everything for her if he’d known all along that she would be the victim of that ceremony? Probably not. And there was something wrong with a heart that would care enough to save a sister but turn a blind eye to the slaughter of a stranger, wasn’t there?

  If it was right to save Amaryllis, then it was right to save Marielle. Or it should have been.

  There had to be some other way to imprison dragons than to build cities on them and pour blood over them once a year. There had to be.

  Dragon. Dragon. Dragon.

  Ram’s constant mad ravings about dragons were rubbing off. Tamerlan found himself scanning the horizon for one and searching the rooftops for a hidden form. Where had the dragon gone? He was not here in Xin. Was he still ravaging Jingen?

  What did dragons do other than eat and sleep?

  Kill!

  And kill.

  What did snakes do? Weren’t dragons just a kind of snake but with wings and magic and malevolence?

  He scanned the soft blues and greens of the summer horizon before turning back to the sweaty work of climbing the stone stairs. It was nearly noon. Nearly time for the announcement. He needed a look at his sister. He could fight through the pain for that.

  He tugged at the long blue cloak he wore. He should have left it at th
e healers. It was only making him hot and holding him back. He could shed it, but if he did, he’d have to carry it and his shoulder wasn’t up to carrying anything.

  Shed. Snakes shed their skins, didn’t they? It was called molting. Perhaps that was where the dragon was. Perhaps the massive creature was up in the mountains somewhere, trying to shed the homes and roads and bridges built into his scales. That’s what Tamerlan would do if he were a dragon.

  He walked carefully through the dense crowd, barely noticing the people as thoughts of dragons filled his mind. The crowd was mostly dressed in white – the color for Dawnspell – except the refugees who had nothing else to wear. He would stand out as a refugee in his worn guard’s uniform. He should remember that. But instead, all he could think of was dragons. How could he find out how to kill one?

  His eyes drifted across the people as he crested the final stairs onto the cobblestone street beyond. A woman stood to the side of the pushing crowd, her eyes hollow, two grimy children clutched in her arms. Their eyes watched the crowd hungrily.

  Tamerlan felt the blood rush to his cheeks and he patted his belt pouch. No coins. Nothing to give them. He glanced down at the silver cloak clasp with the palace insignia. That was worth something. Carefully, he pushed through the crowd wincing at every touch or jostle. He shouldn’t be out of bed. He wasn’t healed enough for what he was doing.

  He had the pin out of the cloak and was handing it to the woman before he’d even reached her. Surprise widened her eyes. It shouldn’t. Someone should have taken her in by now. How selfish were the people of this city that they hadn’t? His face grew hotter. She reached for the pin but stopped before she touched it, as if she were afraid to take it. He shoved it into her outstretched hand.

  “Take it. Feed your children,” he said, his voice thick. On an impulse, he pulled off the cloak, offering it, too. One of the boys pointed wide-eyed at the sword on his hip. Without the cloak, it looked a bit too obvious, but he wouldn’t change his mind. The way the woman shivered in the sea wind, she could use the cloak. And it was all he had to give.

  “Thank you,” she said, clutching the cloak and pin like they were treasures.

  But he couldn’t bear to look at her for a moment longer. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. She wouldn’t be wondering how to feed her children.

  Running away from all this wouldn’t fix it – couldn’t fix it. He only had one choice.

  Dragon. Kill the dragon.

  Yes, Ram.

  He would have to kill the dragon. He would have to make sure there were no more refugees – and then if he were still alive, he would have to spend his whole life making things right – rebuilding, giving, serving. Running away right now – that wouldn’t help anyone but himself.

  With his cheeks burning and his wound on fire, he fled the refugee crowds, head down, desperate not to see or be seen. He felt something hot on his cheeks, but he didn’t stop to brush away his tears until he was well into the Government District and down an alley, around a corner and then out beside a moat around a palace. He was so turned around that he wouldn’t have known where his desperate flight had taken him if he hadn’t seen the moat.

  Roses climbed the walls of the palace and guards were ringed around the wall. From the calls and cheers, he thought that the crowd had gathered on the other side of the palace, waiting for the announcement. That’s where he should be, instead of in this lonely street, far away from anything else. The buildings here were quiet, the moat still. Lily pads floated on the top of the water. He could smell the sun on them and their faint fragrance. But he couldn’t bear to go to where the people were. He closed his eyes but all he saw in his mind were the faces of those children.

  Dragon. Dragon.

  A voice floated down from the palace wall.

  “I thought that perhaps you would make the speech, my beauty. I shouldn’t keep your charms all to myself.”

  There was a tinkling laugh. “I think that I’m starting to like you, Renli.”

  Amaryllis! Tamerlan stepped out, peering up at the figures on the top of the palace wall. They stood close together, as if their words were only for each other, though their voices carried easily in the clear summer air.

  “Only starting?” he feigned a hurt tone.

  Tamerlin shifted nervously. She sounded playful. She sounded like she wasn’t being coerced. But she was only sixteen. She shouldn’t be marrying at all – not yet. Although, better married than sold as a sacrifice. And he’d told himself that he would just check to be sure that she was okay. He wouldn’t ruin things for her if she was well and safe. After all, it probably wouldn’t help her any to be flirting with a future husband only to have her criminal brother storm into the moment demanding that she flee with him.

  Tamerlan ran a hand over his tired face.

  “I won’t even know what to say!” Amaryllis protested, but she was clearly asking to be convinced.

  “Just tell them about the hunt – tell them how we need to get rid of the dragon and how Abelmeyer’s Eye is the only way to bind him. Tell them that it’s a secret passed down from generation to generation.”

  Tamerlan froze. Was there really a way to bind a dragon with something as simple as a relic?

  Kill. Kill. Dragon.

  But Lila Cherrylock’s voice pushed Ram’s aside for a moment, King Ablemeyer’s Eye – an amulet – is what put them in those trances in the first place. It won’t hold them for long – only blood can do that – but it could hold a dragon for a time. I would have stolen it if it wasn’t already lost by my time.

  You would have stolen it? Byron broke in. I would have stolen it first and used it for the freedom of the masses. Such a relic belongs to the people.

  Lost? How would something so precious be lost?

  Maybe it isn’t lost. Maybe it was kept with King Abelmeyer’s treasures. Who can say? Lila suggested. Perhaps the other Legends know. All I know is that it wasn’t where I thought it would be.

  You must join this hunt. Byron was just as intent as she was.

  Where did King Abelmeyer keep his treasures?

  Lila was first to answer. Hidden in the great works of art in the five cities. Or in the palace storerooms, but if it was in one of those, they would know, and there would be no hunt. You should open the Bridge of Legends and let me out. I want to find this treasure, too.

  That was too big of a risk. Tamerlan watched his sister and her suitor walk down the wall, away from him. Their voices faded away as they left. She didn’t seem like someone who needed to be rescued. But this amulet showed promise. Perhaps it would be the key to redemption.

  Let me out and I will help you! Lila insisted.

  Let me out and we will free the people once more! Byron demanded. Let us make payment for our sins.

  He’d have to do it without smoking. These Legends were far too excited at the prospect of this hunt. His hands trembled at that thought as if his body ached to dip into the Bridge of Legends again. But he didn’t dare do that. If you let the Legends out to play, there was no telling what they might do.

  Kill! Kill them all!

  9: Windsniffer

  Marielle

  Lord Mythos seemed mesmerized by the woman in the double-breasted coat, but it was the man with the large conch shell who captured Marielle’s attention. It glowed turquoise to her, though she couldn’t tell what she was smelling when she looked at the shell, even though she sniffed hard, trying to catch the scent of it. It wasn’t the turquoise of the sea or the turquoise and gold of magic – it was different than that, almost magical but not the magic she was used to. Stranger yet, even her eyes seemed to be seeing turquoise and that made her shiver at the strangeness of the experience.

  Etienne had led the group to the inn beside Spellspinner’s Cures – The Grinning Cutlass.

  “No foreigners,” the strongarm said before they even reached the door. Marielle flashed him a suspicious glare. He was the same one who had offered her a place in his bed the
night before.

  “An odd policy for an inn,” Etienne said mildly.

  “I said – ” the strongarm didn’t get to say anything else. Etienne’s hand flashed out so quickly that Marielle couldn’t see what he did and then the strongarm was leaning against the wall gasping for breath while Etienne opened the door for his guests.

  Marielle was the last to enter, watching carefully for any trouble that might come from behind. This city needed a better City Watch. She hadn’t seen a patrol yet and the few individuals she’d seen had scurried out of the way when trouble came. It made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up. A city without order was a city in trouble. Laws and order kept a place safe and prosperous. Failing to uphold them led to the kind of rot that destroyed a city.

  Her lips formed a firm line of concern. No law. Refugees. A dragon threat. Xin was like a barge of dry wood sailing too close to a port light. The whole thing could go up in flames in a matter of moments. She would have to watch for that.

  The inside of The Grinning Cutlass wafted with trails of yellow-orange and washing soda scent – greed and stone-gray suspicion.

  By the time she entered, the innkeeper was already leading Lord Mythos to a back room. A woman with two pitchers, beaded with cool drops on the outside, followed the trail of foreigners.

  Marielle peered at the customers, mentally cataloging them. Regular. Drunk. Two merchants eating lunch. Out of town visitors – older Landholds with business in the city. A suspicious character – petty thief perhaps? That dagger looked expensive for a man of that class.

  She was only worried about the last in the list, but she fingered the handle of her dagger, sniffing the air.

  His interest was piqued, little sizzles of electric blue excitement in his scent. She’d have to keep her eyes open or he’d pick their pockets as they left. If she’d been here with Carnelian, they would have scooped him up already.

  Carnelian. Her last memory of her friend was that betrayal. She’d helped Lord Mythos drive Marielle toward that death chair. How had Etienne turned her loyalty? Or had he merely laid out for her the same thing he had for Marielle – that someone had to die, and it was better that it be Marielle than everyone else. Maybe Carnelian wasn’t a traitor at all. Maybe she was a patriot? Most likely, she was just being practical. Carnelian had always been practical. Then why did it still sting to think of her?