Bridgebreaker (The Echo Worlds Book 2) (7 page)

Not a small order, he knew.  And he was painfully short on allies.  Jasmine he could count on, but she was back in the lair trying to figure out what was going on with Marcus.  Sal was dead.  He had hoped to rely on Heather, but he didn’t trust her now.  Sure her self-interest still made it possible to use her to help fix parts of this, namely the Grellnot-Slyph problem.  But she couldn't care less about the map, at least for now.  Or his elven issue, which she seemed to find amusing.  The silence in the car kept leading him to think, and that led back to last night.  The more he dwelt on it, the more he didn’t like it.  Finally, as he sat driving and stewing in his disgust and anger, Heather’s voice snapped him back to the now.

“Next left turn; take it.”

The road she pointed out was unpaved and looked abandoned.

“You sure?  That doesn’t look like anything.”  Cendan noted.

“That’s the point.  You want a big sign saying, we practice magic here?  Sitting on the side of the road,” she shot back.

The road was rougher than it appeared, Cendan wincing slightly at the ride.  His car wasn’t really meant for this kind of off-road work.  The road ahead snaked back and forth, leading deeper into the mountains.  They were in a forest now, the overarching branches blocking a fair amount of sunlight, making for a somewhat dimly - lit green tunnel.

Finally, Heather pointed to a slight spur where he could pull his car over.

“Park here.  From this point we walk.”  Now her voice was almost cold towards him, which kind of suited him fine now.  Allies, but not friends.  Maybe that was the best way to be with her.  And whoever else they met in this place.

As he exited the car, he opened himself up to the magic sight and nearly gave a gasp of surprise. The motes of light he associated with magic here, were thick.  Very thick, and in constant motion.  Nearly tsunami sized waves and gusts of it flowed around them, doing what he didn’t know.

He grasped his focus in his pocket in an almost involuntary response.  That calmed him a bit, but he still couldn’t begin to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Impressive isn’t it?  It’s part of the wards.  Here they are permanent.  Your Bridgefinders have your headquarters, which is something to behold, but here we have our place.  Our place for this entire continent, at least.” Heather gave a smirk again, and Cendan felt his irritation with her rise again.  Her superior attitude did her no favors.

“So, what’s the name of this place?”  Cendan asked, watching the magic flow around them as they strolled down a narrow path that Heather had started down first.

“Let’s make sure they let you in first.  Then I’ll tell you.”  Heather answered back.

The air had gotten somewhat cooler surprisingly, with the light getting even dimmer.  Heather paused and took her fetish off her wrist, and with a wave it started to glow, casting a blue-white light around her.

“Don’t want you to trip,” she called over her shoulder.

Cendan, who had kept himself open to the magic sight, noted how the motes caused the light to form on her fetish.  He felt reasonably confident that he could replicate that.  At least he was learning more about magic from her, regardless of her flaws as a person.

Stopping in a small clearing between two huge trees, Heather held up one hand to Cendan.  The air was cooler still, here.  Cendan, clad in a polo shirt and shorts, was starting to get downright uncomfortable.  It was dark here as-well.  Only with his magic sight could he see the motes forming a wall here, impossibly high and strong.  The two trees formed some sort of gate though it didn’t make a lot of sense to him.  It was similar in feeling to the barrier into the Bridgefinders’ lair, but not the same; not exactly.

If he had to pick a word, it was that the Bridgefinders’ gate to the lair felt more mechanical, created, and manmade.  This felt organic, grown, and part of the world itself.  They stood in silence, but Cendan watched as the motes flew around them both, landing on Heather and himself.  He couldn’t feel anything when they touched him though he wondered if he should.

Finally, after a good ten minutes of standing in the cold and dark, lit only by Heather’s fetish, they heard footsteps.  Coming between the two trees in front of them.

Heather whispered to Cendan, “Don’t say anything unless you’re asked a question directly.  Let me do the talking here.  And turn off your magic sight.  We don’t want to annoy anyone.”

Cendan reluctantly let go of the sight, and the world seemed lesser, somehow.

A man stepped into the pool of light and looked at them with recognition at Heather firstly and then surprise at himself.  The man was tall and thin.  A neat trimmed beard with a few streaks of red mixed into the…  What color was that?  Dark brown?  Black?  It was hard to tell in this light.

“Heather, welcome back.  And you’ve brought someone.  Why do I think that you didn’t tell anyone of this?”

The man’s voice was the largest surprise; Cendan had never heard a voice that deep before.  It seemed to almost creak out of him, deep and somehow part of something greater.

“Greengate, I brought him because he needs knowledge.  He has great power, but no way of knowing how to use it.”  She kept her eyes locked forward, not exactly looking at the figure in front of her.

Greengate?  What kind of name was that, Cendan mused?  Ceremonial?  Some sort of guard, maybe?

Heather spoke up once more.  “And yes, the Eldest of the Elders; he knows.  It was a possibility at least.”  Greengate didn’t respond verbally, but gave her a small nod in response.

Greengate approached him, and Cendan was washed over with the feelings of loam and earth, water and air, and ancient power; very old and very strong.  Greengate looked at him with eyes as green as new spring leaves.  Cendan couldn’t help but wonder what this man looked like with his magic sight, but he reluctantly kept his sense firmly in the mundane world.

Greengate gave him a long hard look, then whirled towards Heather.

“A Bridgefinder?  You brought a Bridgefinder here?”

Heather sighed.  “He got kicked out.  Look, I can explain to the Elders.  All I have done, I’ve done to protect us and this world.  You know what’s happening on the Echo World?”

Greengate looked back at Cendan.  “Tell me, Bridgefinder, why do you think you are here?”

“Honestly… I am not entirely sure.  Learn about magic, maybe?  The Bridgefinders; they lost it.  Lost their knowledge of it.”  Cendan answered back, finding himself highly unsure of how much detail he should go into. Quickly deciding that honesty was the best policy, he continued.  “Without that knowledge, without the skills on how to work magic, or make things with it, the Slyph or Grellnot will win.  And I don’t think anyone truly wants that.”

Greengate looked at him silently for a few moments, motionless except for a few stray hairs on his head, moving as if brushed by a breeze.

“Heather, why did you bring him here?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.  The air was still in the clearing, but it was even colder now.  How had this man’s hair been moving?  There wasn’t any wind down here.

“I brought him here to learn; that much is true.  He’s a creator, an untrained one, but the first to be a Bridgefinder since their last one got captured by the Slyph.”  Pointing to Cendan but keeping her eyes on Greengate, she continued, “He went to the Echo world, in the flesh.  Found the last Bridgefinder creator and got what knowledge he could.  But he needs more, far more if he or the Bridgefinders are going to be any help.”

Greengate’s eyebrows arched a bit at this news.

“You went to the Echo World, Bridgefinder?  You met Oakheart?  Interesting trip, indeed.”  Greengate walked a circle around them, his steps, oddly, making no sound at all.  “You, Bridgefinder, are a bit of a puzzle.  You say you want to learn from us...  The people your group disavow.  Unlike the Bridgefinders, we exist in a delicate dance with the Slyph.  Using magic and her creatures to get what we want.  You just want it gone.”  Greengate paused in-between the two huge trees that dominated the clearing, his hair fluttering again in a way that reminded Cendan of leaves in the wind.  If there was any wind.  Why did he keep thinking that?

“Normally, I’d not allow you to enter.  There are reasons we keep ourselves hidden from you Bridgefinders.  But the upcoming war between the Slyph and that infernal creature Grellnot changes a great many things.  There is no dance with Grellnot, only death.  So I will let you pass.  I know Heather says you were kicked out, but the mark of the Bridgefinders is still upon you.  I can sense it.”

Holding up a hand to stop any questions, Greengate continued.  “Your questions, Bridgefinder, will be answered past me.”  Greengate turned his attention to Heather, his eyes shrouded in the dim light.  “Heather, he is your responsibility.  Take him to the Elders immediately.  They will decide what to do.  I’m just a guard.”

Greengate looked at Cendan one more time, almost saying something before closing his mouth and walking back the way he entered, between the two huge trees in front of them.  His steps once more made a soft rustle that quickly faded out of earshot.

“Who was that?” Cendan asked, unnerved by the whole thing.

“That was the Greengate, the guardian of the way in and out.”  Heather answered with a shrug.  “A gatekeeper, protector.  Serious, but what can you expect from a tree.”

Cendan looked at her with some surprise.  “A tree?”

Heather pointed at the two trees in front of them.  “Sorry, trees.  Greengate is a magical creation.  He lives and is a living part of those two trees.  When they die, he dies.  He’s been the guard here for eight hundred years so far.”

Cendan took this in before blurting out a question.  “His hair...  It moved like leaves in the wind…”

Heather gave a small nod.  “Yes.  The tops of the trees are being blown up above the forest.  Sometimes, what happens to the trees causes a small effect on Greengate.”

“He seemed, human, but odd.  But I guess that explains it.  What did he mean by mark of the Bridgefinders?”  Cendan hadn’t felt any mark upon him and when he had joined.  He had simply put his key in the barrier room.  Nothing crazy.

“No idea.  But the Elders can say more,” Heather answered before turning to Cendan, her face, for once, lacking a trace of sarcasm or annoyance.  “Look, Cendan, you're about to enter a place that is special.  Very special.  This is one of the seven sacred places of our kind in the world.  And yes, it’s here for a reason, since you Bridgefinders built your machines and made all the Bridges come here, mostly.”

“Forget what you heard about us.  This is the truth.  There are far more of us than the Bridgefinders know.  We keep that information a secret.  While the Bridgefinders use magic with machinery, and human knowledge, we use magic with nature, and the rules of the Green.  Even the name we call each other is kept hidden.”

Heather took him by the hand as they walked in-between the trees.  Cendan felt a sensation similar to the Bridgefinders lair door, but somehow different, like a familiar song played in a slightly different key.

People.  Far more than he expected greeted his sight.  Thirty; forty; who knew?  A wood of carefully spaced trees spread out before him as sunlight streamed down.  He held an involuntary hand up to shade his face.

“We are the Shrouded, Cendan Key, and welcome to Rivenwood.” Heather smiled she was home.

Grellnot stood in front of the Jabber headman, trying not to react to the mix of noises coming from the creature.  Jabbers were loud but powerful creatures, large and strong but not terribly smart.  With a voice like the wind howling through a thousand pipes, the leader of this tribe of Jabbers spoke.

“Youuu wanntt us to side with yoooouu?  Against the mistress who created usssss?  Against the Slyph?”  The thing shifted from side to side, its many mouths breathing and smacking as it waited for Grellnot to respond.

“Yes.  She has an army.  Grellnot needs one too.  You side with me, Grellnot let you and your tribe live.  You do not, and Grellnot will eat every Jabber child and woman here.  You will watch your tribe die slowly.”  Grellnot grinned at the Jabber Headman.  Jabbers didn’t taste great, too many teeth for Grellnot’s liking with all those mouths covering their bodies.  But killing them and taking a few bites out of each would have the same effect.

“Yooouuu can’t do that to all of usssss.  Yoooouuu are smallll... and we are noooot.”  The Jabber headman crossed its arms over its chest, the mouths facing Grellnot making spitting noises.  Grellnot grinned and leapt at a Jabber doing something with a pot.  His teeth ripped out its throat before any of the other Jabbers could react.  Grellnot reached into the raw wound and pulled out a piece, eating it in a highly exaggerated fashion.

“Grellnot does what Grellnot says.  Your tribe is large, and Grellnot is always hungry.”

It watched the Jabber chief, as half its mouths sputtered and mumbled, and the other moaned in alarm.  Slowly each mouth shut, in what Grellnot assumed was thought.

“Well?  Grellnot either feasts or you serve Grellnot.  Either way, Grellnot wins.”  Taking its clawed hand, now blood covered with gore, Grellnot wiped it on its filthy clothing.

“Sheeeee created ussssss….  Sheeee made you….  Littllee foooouuullll thing…”  The Jabber’s voice answered back finally.  “Whhhyyyy do youuuu want to fiiigghtt her..?”

Grellnot spat.  “She always gets what she wants.  Grellnot wants to be free of her, and Grellnot wants to feast on her.  All that magic, all that power, Grellnot needs it!”  Screaming at the end, Grellnot bounded towards a young Jabber, not even five feet tall yet.

“Noooooooooo!” the Jabber chief wailed.  “Weeeee will..”  It paused as every mouth on its body swallowed at once.  “We willll serrveee youuuuu.”

Grellnot grinned, knocking over the young Jabber that screamed in terror through every mouth.  “Shut up!”  Grellnot screamed at it as silence fell.

“Grellnot accepts.  Come to the ruins of Oakheart when Grellnot tells you to come.  You will know.  Come, or Grellnot will hunt every member of your tribe down.  You cannot hide from Grellnot.”

Its stomach rumbled as Grellnot wondered if young Jabber tasted better than older ones.  Grellnot knew, however, that it shouldn’t push too hard, yet.  After these stupid creatures and the others it would gather fulfilled their purpose, everything on this world, and the humans’ world, would exist for one reason.  To fill its hunger.

________

Jasmine sat in the stillness and quiet of the kitchen, trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Cendan with Marcus.  Marcus.  She’d known the man for years, her whole life basically.  They’d grown up together in many ways, both children of the Bridgefinders.  After everything that had happened with the map and Cendan, however, she wasn’t sure she understood him at all.

She’d long known that Marcus was a proud man.  Proud to be a Bridgefinder, to dedicate his life to protecting the world, even if the world didn’t know that he existed.  Proud to be the leader of a dying order.  He’d even, at first, been proud to have been the man who found a Maker again.  But his pride had soured, and quickly.

How had it all gone so south?  How had he convinced himself that Cendan of all people, bland and boring Cendan, was the true enemy?  Sal’s death; had that pushed him over the edge?  Or was it before that?  He’d not been happy to find out that Cendan had kept his Maker status a secret from them, and truthfully she’d seen the momentary pain on his face when he’d realized that she and Cendan had dated once.

Marcus had long been interested in her as more than a friend.  The attraction, however, wasn’t mutual, if only because she had always felt like his interest was based only on the idea that as ‘children of Bridgefinders’, they should ‘just be together.’  When they were both younger, Marcus had gotten rip-roaring drunk once, and in an only semi-coherent rant gone off about how their kids would be the most powerful Bridgefinders ever.

Jasmine wanted nothing to do with that.  It made her feel like some sort of breeding animal, and she’d told him so.  He’d mumbled something about time and never mentioned it again, but she often wondered if he remembered what he’d said.  But somewhere in the last few weeks, sitting by himself, Marcus had changed, his pride and joy at turning the tables on the Slyph, morphing into anger and jealousy.

She had to try to talk to him, and there was only one place he would be; the same place he always was.  The barrier room.  Her footsteps echoed down the empty halls of the headquarters, feeling even sparser than it had when there were just four of them.  Unless there was some way to fix this, the Bridgefinders would be dead.  All that history, all that work, lost.  Lost for the sake of pride.

Standing in front of the door, there were only two lights left; hers and Marcus’s.  The sight of all those blank spaces, all those turned off lights, depressed her.  Taking a deep breath, Jasmine readied herself.  This wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.  She wasn’t sure what to expect from him, but if his behavior yesterday was any guide, she didn’t think it would be a normal one.

Pushing the door open, the room seemed colder than normal to her.  She’d not been in the room for over a week or so; there hadn’t been much need, truthfully, with not having to run off and close Bridges.  So she was somewhat thrown by its new appearance.

The chairs were the first thing.  Before, the room had been somewhat haphazard, the chairs thrown about in chaos, most dusty and unused.  Marcus, however, had been apparently busy.  Now, all of them, several hundred chairs by her guess, were organized smallest to largest, all facing the center of the room and the barrier wall with its empty depressions.  The room had always been rather dimly lit, but now it was even more so, one candle in the middle and one in each corner.  And finally, there was now a chair in the middle of the room.

There had always been a place for one there.  Her mother had once shown her a painting of a meeting in this very room when the Bridgefinders had been many and strong.  The middle position was taken by the leader of the Bridgefinders.  For a moment she wondered where that picture was now.  Buried in some storeroom, she figured; out of sight and out of mind.

Marcus, apparently, had seen that picture before as well, as he was now sitting in that chair, facing away from the door once more.  It was his right to do so of course; he was the leader.  Of course, he’d only been the leader because she’d had no interest in what to her seemed a ceremonial position.  When there were only a handful of people left, and they all did the same job who cared who was the ‘leader’?  Marcus had been all excited about it, however, and so, she’d let him have it.

“Hello Jasmine.”  Marcus’s voice echoed in the quiet chamber.  “I figured you’d be here at some point.”  He didn’t get up or face her, nor even shift in his seat from what she could see.  “You’re here to discuss yesterday, I assume?  When that betrayer of your ex-boyfriend destroyed what was left of us.”

Jasmine sighed.  She’d known that it was going to be a fun conversation, but this was already bad and she hadn’t even said anything yet.

“Marcus, Cendan didn’t do anything—”

Before she could speak, Marcus’s fist slammed down on the chair’s arm.

“He did!  If he hadn’t come here, Sal would be alive, the map would still be working, and you wouldn’t be mixed up in his dangerous ideas about magic!”  Marcus paused for a second, and pulled a large sphere from somewhere that Jasmine couldn’t see.  “Jasmine, he’s dangerous.  At first… at first I was blinded by the idea of a Maker.  A real Maker.  Here.  Finally.  Fix EVA, discover all these things that we didn’t understand about this place.  And most importantly, turn the tide on the Slyph and her creatures.”

Silence ruled for a few seconds as he appeared to gather his thoughts.

“I wanted to like him.  Cendan Key.  Even his name is stupid.”  Holding the sphere up, Marcus appeared to look at it.  “But after Sal died, and EVA was online for the first time in a thousand years, I came here to think.  Think and explore.  I realized, Jasmine, that Cendan is nothing but poison.”

“I am the leader of the Bridgefinders, Jasmine.  Me.  Not you, not Cendan, me.  You always thought it was a joke, I know.  A position of a figurehead.  But it’s not.  And it never was.”  Marcus held the sphere in his hand up in the dim light.  “I’d imagine you’re curious as to what this is.  This is my birthright.  The legacy of all the leaders of the past.”

Suddenly, Marcus stood and faced Jasmine.  She was taken aback by his appearance.  A severe looking man, he seemed more gaunt than normal, and in the faint light somewhat maniacal.  He continued his speech.

“After Cendan opened the Maker wing, the only good thing he ever did here, I went in and explored.  On my own.  And I found this.  This, Jasmine, is power.  This allows me to control almost everything in this place.”

“It took me a while to figure it out. The power this gives me dwarfs anything Cendan Key can do. I don’t need to sleep, I don’t need to eat. THIS!” Marcus raised up the stone in his hand. “THIS sustains me. With this I can work miracles. And its power is mine. Just mine.”

Jasmine watched as Marcus started the stone orb, the look of naked ambition obvious on his face. Marcus, eyes narrowed raised his head to watch her, almost studying her.

“With this I have cut-off that pretend Bridgefinder from EVA.  Not totally perhaps, not yet, but she can’t help him anymore.  With this I’ve banished him from ever coming back in.  This Keystone, this is my power.”  Marcus’s face took on an even darker cast as he looked at her.  “With this, I even know that you and Cendan weren’t alone in the map room yesterday.  Who was she, Jasmine?  Why did you betray me?”  Marcus voice was a harsh whisper.  “Once, I would have given you the world.  But here you are now… tainted.”

He took a step towards her, holding the Keystone out to her.

“Tainted by that pretender, Cendan.  He doesn’t care about us.  He doesn’t care about the struggle.  He isn’t one of us.”

Taking another step, Marcus came into closer focus in the dim light.  His eyes were bloodshot.  When had he slept last, she wondered?  He continued to speak.

“He came here, he killed Sal, and he tainted you with his talk of magic.  He betrayed my confidence when I made him a Bridgefinder.”

“Now, Jasmine, you’re going to tell me who that person was with you.  You’re going to tell me what you had planned.  You’re going to tell me everything.”

Marcus held the Keystone higher as Jasmine felt something pull at her very soul; hard, painful and fast.  Before she could get a word out, the world spun around her as she half heard Marcus say,

“I didn’t say you would be conscious.”