A Bridge of Realms

by B. T. Narro

  When all the sellswords had left, it seemed as if everyone became solely interested in procuring their breakfast. Massive pots were strung up over fires. Soldiers escorted townsfolk into the makeshift encampment, the citizens carrying sacks or baskets and soon trading them for coin.

  Andar, the youngest here by many years, worried he might miss a free meal if he didn’t take some initiative. Lines of soldiers formed, hungry men waiting for food. Andar was on edge as he walked over and took his place in the back of the line. He tried not to look too worried, for he did belong here, and confidence was the only way he could sell it.

  The line moved quickly, and soon Andar had many people behind him who had not said a word to him. He was just starting to relax a bit when a familiar soldier came to his side and looked down at him.

  “What are you doing in this line?”

  Andar resisted the urge to kick the man in the shin. It was Marcus Dowl, the drunkard who had grabbed Rygen.

  What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You should be in a prison cell. Instead, this man was here—in uniform—about to cause another problem for Andar. He caught his tongue before insulting the man and gave the truth instead.

  “I’m a digger chosen by the commander to work here. I was told I would receive meals for my work.” Andar gestured. “Thus, I am in line.”

  Marcus chuckled. He had circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept well. His uniform was faded, with smudges of dirt around the sleeves. Andar hadn’t gotten too good of a look last night, when they had brawled in his dark kitchen, but he could see now that this man wasn’t much taller or bigger than the average grown man. He seemed about Andar’s father’s age, thirty-one, or possibly older. Andar didn’t know why the soldier had laughed at him, but it seemed forced.

  “If what you say is true, then what’s the commander’s name?”

  Andar tried to think of a way out of this, but Marcus lost his smile. He became aggressive as he put his face near Andar’s.

  “Get out of line,” he threatened.

  Andar wouldn’t move no matter what Marcus told him. He was beginning to wonder if this drunkard, with his foul breath, even recognized him at all. Andar studied his face, a face he wanted to punch, and saw nothing close to recognition in his bloodshot eyes.

  “The commander never gave me his name,” Andar said, increasing the volume of his voice so everyone nearby could hear. “He was too busy stopping you from groping a ten-year-old girl!”

  Everything came back to Andar in a flash. Overcome by anger, he shoved the man back.

  “And that was before you drew your sword on me!” Andar continued. “A thirteen-year-old boy! So no, I did not get the commander’s name, but I did hear yours, Marcus Dowl, and I’m not going to forget it. If you have an issue with me eating some breakfast before I start digging, then take it up with the commander. I’m sure he’ll be happy you’re wasting more of his time.”

  The other men in line hooted and laughed, but Andar was too angry to feel victorious. This soldier should be imprisoned. He hadn’t broken any laws, but he certainly would’ve if Leo hadn’t brought the commander to their home. Or Marcus would’ve forced me to break a law myself when I defended Rygen.

  Marcus’s eyes had gone wide with shock. He grumbled something about it being lies and hurried away. At least he seemed to know that he had done wrong, and he didn’t seem smart enough to know how to lie convincingly.

  It wasn’t long before Andar had reached the front of the line and received his meal. He was disappointed no one had asked him about Marcus after his outburst. It was as if none of them cared to do anything, even if all of it was true. Or perhaps they wanted to do something, but none of them knew what.

  He ate alone. He felt as though he didn’t belong here, but he was used to the feeling. At least the food wasn’t too bad. It was porridge, a normal breakfast for Andar when he didn’t steal, but this porridge was a little sweeter than usual, which made all the difference.

  Marcus was nowhere in sight, and Andar was glad for it, but he did fear what might be going through the man’s head now. He was certainly embarrassed and might want revenge for it. Or perhaps he feared that Andar could make more trouble for him—which was certainly correct.

  He probably wouldn’t risk doing anything to Andar while sober, but some men behaved very differently when drunk. Andar’s father had taught him this, never by example but through the many lessons he had given Andar and Leo.

  Sometimes Andar couldn’t believe his father was gone. He wondered how long it would take to get used to. For now, it hurt worse than if someone had stolen something valuable to Andar.

  He was more likely to make enemies here than friends. These were soldiers of the king, after all. These were the types of men who barged into his home when they were searching for rebels. They didn’t care that Andar and Leo needed help finding their father. Instead, they looked for anything they might steal. There could be other Marcus Dowls among them.

  At least the commander was different. Andar watched him for a long while. He seemed to be busy talking with many different people until someone finally came by and gave him a bowl that most certainly held his breakfast. He finished up with the last man, then sat on the ground and used a nearby tree stump as his table to eat from his bowl. A few people tried to come up and ask him something while he was eating, but he just put up his hand. One of them waited around, but the commander shooed him with a gesture. He ate quickly and stood when he was finished. He was immediately swarmed by more people.

  Normally, Andar would have no interest in working until he was forced to do so, but he had never seen the inside of the cavern. His father had told him and Leo what it looked like, which only made Andar more eager to see it.

  The commander didn’t seem as if he would be free anytime soon, so Andar decided to walk over and stand nearby to ensure he was seen. He listened to many short conversations between the commander and the men reporting to him. Almost all were logistical, men coming to the commander with numbers and details about the troops, and the commander telling them what to do next. Andar didn’t know how such a man had time to visit poor families like Andar’s. Perhaps that was why he had come around their area at night, for it was the only time he wouldn’t be bothered.

  What was even more of a marvel was how so many men were here, and yet there were almost no women. The citizens who were paid to provide breakfast had left. There were some women among the army here, in uniform just like the men, but there were just so few. It felt strange to have so many men in one place. Where were all the women at this time? Did many of these men have wives waiting for them somewhere? Skyfire and ash, did many of these men have children waiting for them somewhere? It was strange to think about, especially if more of them were like Marcus. Andar shuttered.

  Finally, the commander approached him. “I hope you’ve eaten,” the commander said, not stopping as he passed by Andar and clearly expected to be followed. “There’s no time for it now. Follow me to the caves.”

  Andar gladly obliged.

  CHAPTER THREE

  On the way to the entrance to the caves, the commander took something out of his pocket and handed it to Andar.

  “This is a badge,” the commander said. “It will allow you food three times a day; breakfast, lunch, and supper. It will also allow you access to the army’s bathing quarters nearby. I have written down the address so you don’t have to memorize it.” He handed Andar a small note.

  The badge itself was copper and rusted, but it seemed official with its simple inscription of “Army Worker.”

  Andar would treasure it for the access it gave him.

  He descended the dirt trail into the cavern with the commander, who was handed a lantern by someone before they reached the edge of darkness. Andar checked behind him to see many others coming in after them, all receiving lanterns as well. He felt proud to be at the front with the commander, but it was somewhat strange. There had to be more important people than
Andar going into this cavern at this moment.

  There was a lot of moisture in the air, but it was the warmth that took him by surprise. He expected it to be cooler down here, out of the sun, but it was even hotter than it was outside.

  “Does the heat have to do with Artistry from the Tisary?” Andar asked.

  “No, all caverns are like this.”

  The cavern itself seemed like it was a secret underground section of another world. Andar had seen nothing like the natural materials that existed here. Everything seemed to be coated in wax, smooth yet with its colors dulled. He always figured it was nothing but dirt down here, hard and compact so that it wouldn’t collapse on his father. But he found very little dirt at all. It wasn’t quite rock that made up the walls, roofs, and ground, but it did appear to be nearly as hard as rock. Why had his father made the caverns sound so uninteresting?

  That’s what he does well. He was one of the most interesting men in the world, DVend Quim, and yet he passed himself off to most people as a boring digger.

  Much of the pillars and mounds in front of Andar looked like rock that had been covered with something unnatural, pocked and dripping. Some mounds were yellow, others red, but most were gray. In the distance, he thought he saw something blue. But it was dark down there, so he couldn’t be sure.

  “What is this stuff?” Andar asked as he gestured around them.

  “I don’t know the word for it, but it’s only been found in caverns,” the commander replied.

  “Is there any use for it?”

  “No.” The commander shouted behind him. “Liaison, you should be ahead of me now.”

  “Coming,” called a man from not too far away.

  Soon Andar and the commander were being led by the liaison to the Tisary. The appearance of the cavern continued to change as they went through it, though only by variations of hues and textures. It all ended up looking the same to Andar soon enough. He would’ve felt lost if there was not one main route through the cavern with many alternate paths branching from the sides.

  It was hard to imagine his father here, chipping away. Did he and the other diggers only progress through the cavern where they found dirt, or were they forced to pick at the strange hard stuff all around them? There was so much Andar’s father must’ve seen throughout his life that he had never shared with Andar or Leo. He’d grown up in a mansion in Halin, a better city than Jatn, and certainly a better home. He probably even had servants. DVend’s father had been the richest man in the city, after all. He definitely had servants.

  It was hard for Andar to picture his father letting someone do something for him that he could do for himself. But he must’ve been busy training as a swordsman, for DVend Quim was hailed as the best in the world.

  Andar had known there was something special about his father and their family, but the truth had surprised him. The strangest part about it was that it was easy for Andar to picture his father being good with the sword. He was good at everything he did, except trusting Andar with the truth. But that had begun to change before he was forced out of Jatn with the rebels.

  Andar stopped thinking about his father so he wouldn’t put himself in a mood. Soon he would find out what he was doing in this cavern, but until then, he had to know something.

  “Commander?” Andar asked.

  “Yes?”

  “What’s your name?”

  The commander didn’t answer as he looked down at Andar.

  “Marcus Dowl confronted me when I was in line,” Andar explained. “He didn’t recognize me from last night, but he did accuse me of trying to steal a free meal.”

  The commander grumbled but still didn’t speak.

  “He didn’t believe me when I said that you had told me to come here. He gave me only one way to prove it, by stating your name.”

  “I see.”

  Andar waited but did not get an answer, so he continued.

  “It’s not right that men like Marcus know the names of high-ranking officials in the army and can use that knowledge to do what they want. Meanwhile, I can’t even get my breakfast without harassment.”

  The commander held the lantern up to his face, showing Andar a look that made it seem as if he was about to impart knowledge.

  “There are men like Marcus Dowl everywhere, Andar. But the difference between him and others is that he is in the army. He is under my watch. If he is to be removed from the army, he will become much more dangerous. Men like him need regimen. They need supervision.”

  Andar was shocked. The commander—who still hadn’t given his name, which was starting to bother Andar—made it sound as if the army was a healthy place for men like Marcus. Andar hadn’t known the commander to be wrong about anything yet, but surely he was wrong about this. To a man like Marcus, the army was just a conduit for power. He was more dangerous with a uniform on, not off.

  But Andar held in his argument for later. It would do no good right now.

  After a long silence, the commander finally said, “My name is Rolan Kipper. You are welcome to use it if questioned, but I don’t want you to take any action if you notice any of my men behaving unlike they should. Let them be. They will be dealt with as they deserve.”

  “All right,” Andar said, though he didn’t know what he might actually do given a real opportunity.

  After a long while of walking, the liaison said, “The Tisary is just ahead.”

  Andar figured this man was a worker for the Farmers’ Guild until just today. Having him lead the commander, Rolan Kipper, to the Tisary was probably part of the agreement between the commander and Owlan Finchester, another name Andar wanted to remember.

  The tunnel to the Tisary was not long at all, though the path leading up to it had veered off from the main route a while back. Andar didn’t know just how far they’d gone from the entrance, but it could’ve been a mile.

  Rolan warned Andar, “Stay away from the rift. Even sticking your smallest finger into it might result in your death eventually.”

  “I’ll stay back,” Andar said.

  The Tisary itself was similar to the rest of the cave, though it seemed to be an alcove coated with the hard substance Andar thought of as rock covered in wax. The one difference, and it was a major one, was the rift toward the back.

  “Be careful,” the liaison warned and gestured at the ground ahead of them.

  Much of the dirt on the floor of the cave had been scraped away and collected in the corners, but there was a hole off to the side. Andar wanted to venture over to see how deep it went, but he knew nothing about the ground here. It might be treacherous. So he took the liaison’s advice to be cautious.

  They carefully approached the rift. There was a platform of what looked to be hard dirt, reddish in color, that was around the base of the rift. It was as if everyone wanted to dig away the dirt substance that made up the floor, but no one would venture close to the rift.

  The rift itself seemed to be alive and dangerous. Black and red coexisted to make up the floating sphere at the other end of the Tisary. Its edges were thicker, denser in color, though blurry as if Andar was looking at them with squinted eyes. Streaks of white shot across the sphere as the commander approached, Andar close behind him. Andar marveled at what he saw. This was a rift—an opening to the other realm. He wondered how exactly he would die if he stuck his finger into it. Was the commander really certain about this?

  Although Andar wasn’t afraid of it, something instinctual told him to stay away from the area. The feeling had come about even before Rolan’s warning…even before Andar saw the rift.

  He didn’t notice the other people here until now. They stood in the shadows at the corners, two of them army men, based on their uniforms. Another man had on a flowing robe. He was tall with an impatient look about him as he stared at the commander. Something told Andar this man was a mage—he had skill with Artistry.

  “I’m going to be busy for a while,” Rolan told Andar. “But first I’m going to explain what you
need to do. Be careful as you follow me.”

  He led Andar over toward the hole. It was steep enough that if he fell in, he would not be getting out without some kind of rope. He expected Rolan to keep walking past the hole to bring Andar toward the other end of the Tisary, where someone had started digging into the wall, but it was here where Rolan stopped and studied Andar’s expression.

  “Are you still not scared?” the commander asked.

  He means for me to go in here? His nerves tingled, but the feeling wasn’t fear. It was as if he knew he should be afraid but his body wasn’t capable.

  “No,” Andar answered. He got on his knees and looked closer into the hole as the commander put his lamp on the edge. The outside of it was made of rock, real rock, not the hard substance that composed much of the rest of the cavern. As Andar peered within, he saw that rock also made up the walls. It was as if a pillar of dirt used to reside between these enormous underground slabs of stone, but someone had dug out all the dirt.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Andar asked.

  “There should be a rope here.” The commander walked around the Tisary until he came to a mound of rigid, rocklike dirt, beige in color. It was wide at the bottom and tall enough to nearly touch the waxy and colorful icicles of some hard substance that decorated the ceiling. “Here it is.”

  The rope looked as if it had been used, rubbed down in many places. It was long and thick, certainly strong enough to keep the heaviest of men suspended. Andar felt on edge at the thought of the commander wrapping the rope around Andar’s body and telling him to fall into the hole.

  “Are you still not afraid?” Rolan asked with a grin.

  “I’m not,” Andar told him.

  “Good. Then start tying this end around you so that it will hold all of your weight. I’ll work on the other end.”

  Andar wrapped it around his waist like a belt, tying it so that it was secure. Meanwhile, Rolan wrapped the other end around the hard mound that was about ten paces from the hole. The mound had a few scrapes and indents that made it clear the rope had been tied to it before. But the hole was not wide enough for a grown man to fit easily. Whoever had created this hole, as deep as it was, couldn’t have been much bigger than Andar. He still had a lot to grow to reach the commander’s height. Andar was strong but slender, built like the boy he still was.