Bridge of Dreams e-3

by Anne Bishop

  Thankfully, the road was still going in the right direction.

  “We’re close,” she said, withdrawing her arm so that she was no longer immediately visible to anyone they might meet on the road.

  “How long will the connection remain once you’re back in your homeland?” Lee asked.

  “Since we’re the last Tryad in the city, not long,” Zhahar replied. “Less than an hour, I think. Then Tryadnea will be adrift again.”

  Less than an hour is still too long, he thought. If the enemy was close behind them, having that connection last even a few minutes after they crossed it might be too long. So he would need to break that connection and change it into something else as soon as they were on Tryadnea ground.

  A sound came from behind him. Not the hummm he associated with Zhahar talking with her sisters. This sounded more like annoyed buzzing. And judging by the way the Apothecary suddenly hunched his shoulders, Lee wasn’t the only one hearing it.

  “If you all keep trying to come into view and talk at the same time, at least one of you is going to end up with a sore throat,” he said.

  The buzzing stopped.

  “You usually whack a hornet’s nest to see what happens?” the Apothecary asked quietly.

  “I’m usually smarter than that,” Lee replied.

  “Could you try being smarter when I’m close enough to you to get stung?”

  Lee huffed out a soft laugh. Then he sobered.

  No way to tell if this was going to work. No way to tell if his presence would negate the effort of the others to send out a call for help through the currents of the world. No way to tell anything, but he had to believe that, if Glorianna received the message he’d sent through Kobrah and Teaser, she would help him.

  Glorianna would help him. He was sure of that. He believed it with all his heart. But would Belladonna help him?

  He twisted on the seat to look toward the window. “Can I ask you something?”

  Zhahar’s face appeared in the window. “Sholeh says the community up ahead is an artisan community. When she was researching other parts of Vision, she didn’t find mention of any shadow streets or dark places.”

  “Every community has a shadow street of sorts,” the Apothecary said. “But it might not be dark enough to have shadowmen.”

  “Why was Sholeh looking for a street like that?” Lee asked.

  “In case we needed to try again in a different part of the city.”

  “But Sholeh…” Lee paused. Thought. Sholeh definitely belonged to the daylight landscapes. Zeela? Yes, that sister would like the things that weren’t so proper—and might even need to spend time in shadowy places to feel comfortable with her surroundings. “Must be a challenge to find a place that suits all of you.”

  No answer.

  “Was that what you wanted to know?” Zhahar asked.

  Distracted by thoughts of Zhahar and her sisters and where they could live, he’d forgotten what he’d wanted to ask. Something about sisters. Ah yes. “If one of you was upset with someone, would all of you be upset with that person? Could one of you stop the others from helping that person?”

  “Damn fool,” the Apothecary muttered as he hunched his shoulders and told the horse to giddyup.

  The horse made an effort, probably because it could hear the angry buzzing too.

  “Why do you ask?” Zeela growled.

  “My sister,” Lee replied quietly.

  A pause. Then Zhahar said, “Oh.” She reached through the window and rested her hand on his arm for a moment before withdrawing again. “We might not help with a small thing if we were upset with someone, but we wouldn’t walk away from someone in real trouble. Not if we cared about him.”

  Not the same. There was Light and Dark in each aspect of Sholeh Zeela a Zhahar, and that wasn’t the same as Belladonna. Not the same at all.

  Heart’s hope lies within Belladonna.

  He was going to hope—to believe—that was still true.

  Hurry, Zhahar thought. Hurry hurry hurry.

  Kobrah, keeping watch out the wagon’s door, gave them constant reports now of four riders—still following from a distance, but closing on them. The village itself was up ahead, and the Apothecary was aiming for it in the hope the Clubs wouldn’t attack them with other people around. But the connection to Tryadnea wasn’t in the village, and once they were out of sight of other people…

  *Maybe if we take Lee, those Clubs will leave the others alone,* Zhahar said.

  =Not anymore,= Zeela said. =At this point, everyone with us knows more than those wizards want anyone to know. Maybe the Clubs have orders to capture Lee instead of killing him, but the wizards have no reason to think the rest of us are anything but trouble if we’re left alive.=

  Shaken by her sister’s assessment, Zhahar leaned out the window and pointed west. “We have to go that way.”

  “Let’s see if we can get into the village itself before heading in that direction,” Lee said. “Being the only wagon on the road makes us conspicuous.”

  Saying nothing, the Apothecary coaxed the horse into a trot. A short while later, they slowed to a walk as they joined the other conveyances on the main street. Being on horseback and more able to maneuver, the Knife rode up ahead, then returned in a few minutes to ride beside the wagon and report.

  “The market fills the center of the village,” he said. “I don’t think wagons or carts are allowed in there once the merchants set up their booths, but even if we did go in there, we’d never get through with all the people on the street. I saw what looks like a western road just before the market begins. When I inquired, a young man confirmed the road headed west, but he said there is nothing but woodland and fields that way because the bridge doesn’t work. He said his uncle, who’s a Shaman, was up here visiting and warned the village not to use that bridge—that it didn’t lead to the fields beyond it that the eye could see.”

  “That must be the connection,” Zhahar said.

  Lee nodded. “Makes sense. It sounds like the connection turned an ordinary bridge into a stationary bridge that links the two landscapes. It’s not surprising that a Shaman trying to walk across that bridge would sense the other landscape, but I think most of the villagers would have crossed that bridge and ended up on the road they’d always traveled.” But a few of them would have crossed that bridge and gotten lost in Ephemera’s landscapes.

  “What about us?” the Apothecary asked.

  “Zhahar resonates with her homeland. Her presence should be enough to get us there.”

  “Then let’s move,” the Knife said at the same time Kobrah said, “Four riders. Almost on us.”

  They turned onto the narrow western road, still moving at a walk while they were in sight of houses and workshops. As soon as the fields were the only thing in front of them, the Apothecary whipped the horse into a gallop.

  Zhahar grabbed the window ledge and Lee’s arm. Behind her, she heard Kobrah yelp as the wagon rocked enough to make standing precarious.

  “You need to pull up on the other side of the bridge as soon as you can,” Lee said.

  “We should keep going as long as the horse can,” the Apothecary argued.

  “Unless there are armed Tryad waiting right on the other side, we can’t outrun the Clubs long enough to find help if all of us cross that bridge,” Lee argued. “But I can stop them from reaching Tryadnea.”

  =Can he do what he did to Teeko?= Zeela asked.

  Zhahar relayed the question and saw the Apothecary tense when Lee replied, “Something like that.”

  The Knife shouted. Zhahar didn’t catch the words, only the urgency.

  “You sure this is the place?” the Apothecary asked.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Lee said before Zhahar could reply. “Just get us over that bridge.”

  “The Knife is behind us,” Kobrah shouted. “The Clubs!”

  “Bridge is up ahead,” the Apothecary said.

  Zhahar wasn’t sure if he said that in case Lee cou
ldn’t see it or to make sure she was aware of it.

  A few lengths from the bridge, the Apothecary eased the horse back to a less reckless speed.

  Hurry, Zhahar thought. Hurry hurry hurry.

  ::I can feel Tryadnea,:: Sholeh said.

  “Give the Knife room to get off the bridge, then pull up,” Lee said.

  Horse and wagon clattered over the bridge, followed by the Knife, who turned and pulled out a long blade from a sheath on his saddle.

  Lee scrambled off the driving seat and ran for the bridge.

  Zhahar climbed through the window to the driving seat, jumped down, and ran after him.

  Lee dropped to his knees and grabbed the post on one side of the bridge.

  “Lee!” she yelled as two of the Clubs rode onto the bridge, with the other pair a length behind.

  “Stay back!” Lee snapped. He flattened on the ground, but his hands still held the post.

  One of the Clubs was focused on Lee; the other on the Knife. Zeela came into view, ran the few steps between her and Lee, and pulled the knife from her boot.

  The Clubs came over the bridge, weapons raised—and disappeared in the moment their horses’ feet would have touched land.

  The men coming behind the first pair vanished too, but Zeela could hear them.

  “What happened? Where did they go? Where’s the wagon?”

  A clatter of hooves, as if the second pair of horses was being turned around. Then no sound from the riders. Too quickly, there was no sound.

  Releasing the post, Lee rolled onto his back. “Guardians and Guides, that was close.”

  Zeela watched the Knife dismount. She didn’t think a man like him was used to feeling so wary of another man, and she didn’t know how he would respond to a man who could do…What had Lee done?

  As Kobrah and the Apothecary joined them, both looking around with dazed expressions, Lee sat up, pulled off the hat, and scrubbed his fingers over his short hair.

  The Knife took a step toward them. Zeela stepped in front of Lee, who didn’t seem to notice.

  “What happened?” the Knife asked.

  “There was a tree on this side of the bridge,” the Apothecary said. “I saw it. Now it’s gone.”

  “It’s not gone,” Lee said. “It’s just not in this landscape.”

  The Knife shook his head. “What happened to the Clubs?”

  “For the moment, this is a resonating bridge. It can send a person to any landscape that resonates with that person’s heart. The Clubs who crossed over the bridge are now in a landscape that matches who they are.”

  “Where is this landscape?”

  “Don’t know. The other two are still in the northern community—unless they tried to cross the bridge. In which case, they’ve also crossed over to somewhere else.”

  “You don’t seem too concerned about that.”

  “Why should I be?”

  The question seemed to shock everyone—even the Knife.

  Chilled by the casual way Lee had just sent two men into the unknown, Zeela sheathed her knife, and Zhahar came back into view.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “Finish this,” Lee replied. “This bridge no longer connects your homeland to Vision. I don’t know how long it will take for Tryadnea to start drifting, so we need to talk to your people’s leaders, and we need to do it fast.”

  “This leads to our mothers’ village,” Zhahar said, pointing to the cart track. “At least, it did when I left here.”

  “No reason why it wouldn’t still lead to the village,” Lee said.

  Isn’t there? she wondered.

  He looked around, picked up his hat, and headed for the wagon.

  The Knife and the Apothecary stared at her.

  “Is he going to help us?” the Knife asked.

  “Yes,” she replied with all the conviction she could put into her voice. “He said he would, so he will.”

  Nodding, the Knife returned to his horse and mounted while the Apothecary and Kobrah returned to the wagon.

  =Lee’s sister isn’t the only one who has a dark side,= Zeela said.

  *I know that,* Zhahar replied. *But I wonder if it’s occurred to him?*

  He had frightened a Knife. He knew plenty of demons who wouldn’t hesitate to kill a human—or kill anything else, for that matter—but in the landscapes he’d called home, he hadn’t heard of anything like a guild of assassins.

  Shadowmen.

  If he understood the neutral morality and position the shadowmen held in Vision, would his ability as a Bridge make him a shadowman?

  He had always considered his power as something neutral. He made a bridge, and what happened to the people who crossed that bridge was none of his concern. People were drawn to the landscapes that resonated with their own hearts. Nothing to do with him.

  When he’d been in Elandar and tossed a one-shot bridge at a man who was about to start a brawl, he’d known the man would end up in a rough landscape and might not live to find a gentler one. But the Dark currents in Raven’s Hill had been swollen by the Eater of the World, and that had turned his heart toward darker feelings.

  Hadn’t it?

  He and Glorianna had the same mother, and through Nadia’s bloodlines, they had a strong connection to the Light. But they also had the same father. A wizard. Whose power had come from the Dark.

  Glorianna could command the Light and the Dark landscapes in Ephemera. That’s why she’d been more of a danger to the wizards than other Landscapers. Because her father was a wizard.

  Their father was a wizard.

  It hadn’t occurred to him until now that he shouldn’t have been able to travel through all of Glorianna’s landscapes. All the daylight ones, sure, but not the dark landscapes. Not all of them. But where she led, he could follow.

  Because the power he’d inherited from his father had come from the Dark. Which meant that some of his power as a Bridge also came from the Dark.

  Compared to other Bridges, that made him something other than neutral.

  When he threw the stone that held a one-shot bridge at Teeko, he’d wanted the man to end up in a dark landscape, and he knew with a bone-deep certainty that Teeko had crossed over to a dark place. He’d known when he turned the bridge that connected Tryadnea to Vision into a resonating bridge that the Clubs who were riding over it to kill him and the others would cross over into a landscape that held dangers they couldn’t begin to imagine. And because they would have killed Zhahar, he had no regrets that those men had little chance of surviving.

  What did that say about him?

  What did that say?

  Zhahar sat on the window seat, her view restricted to the strip of space between the Apothecary’s body and Lee’s. The Knife was riding beside the wagon instead of scouting ahead, because she’d warned the men that people of single aspect usually thought of her people as demons and, therefore, something to destroy, so an armed man riding toward a village would be seen as an enemy.

  =We’d get there faster if we walked,= Zeela growled.

  ::The horse is tired,:: Sholeh said.

  *We’re all tired,* Zhahar said.

  ::Yes, but we didn’t have to pull the wagon, so the horse is more tired.::

  Zeela swore.

  “Is there any food left?” Zhahar asked Kobrah. She was usually more vigilant about how long they went between meals.

  Kneeling on the floor, Kobrah checked the food box. “A couple of dates and a piece of flatbread.” After wiping her hands on her trousers, which weren’t all that clean either, she handed the food to Zhahar.

  “Do you want some of the bread?” Zhahar asked.

  Kobrah shook her head.

  Zhahar ate one of the dates, then bit into the bread, chewing slowly. Zeela came into view and took a bite of bread. Then they insisted that Sholeh eat the rest.

  ::Will we be home soon?:: Sholeh asked.

  =I don’t know,= Zeela said gently. =The village lookouts will spot us soon, I t
hink.=

  Unless things drifted on this side too and we’re no longer close to our mothers’ village, Zhahar thought, being careful to keep that thought private.

  “Zhahar?” Lee said. “We’re close to some structures. Is that your village?”

  While she hurriedly chewed the last bite of bread, Sholeh made noises so he would know they had heard him. As soon as Zhahar came into view, she twisted on the seat to look out.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Sholeh needed some food. I can’t see. Can you…?”

  Lee leaned to his right, giving her more of a view.

  Her heart sank. Did he think she came from such a rough place?

  “It’s a camp,” she said, then added silently, Where our village used to be.

  “Would your leaders be there?” he asked.

  =They would have set up the camp near the connection, hoping we’d get back before Tryadnea went adrift again,= Zeela said. =But the camp and the connection must have drifted apart.=

  “They’ll be there,” Zhahar told Lee. She touched the Apothecary’s arm, then pointed toward the right. “Those ropes and posts are pickets for horses. You should tie up there.”

  “They know we’re here,” the Knife said quietly, “and I guess they really don’t like company.”

  “They’ll have to cope with more,” Lee said as he climbed down.

  Zhahar scrambled to get the wagon’s door open. As she came around the side, she saw Lee, the Knife, and the Apothecary standing next to the wagon, their hands at their sides, holding no weapons. Facing them were a dozen Tryad, all armed. And standing slightly in front of her warriors, dressed in fighting leathers, was Morragen Medusah a Zephyra, leader of the Tryad people—and their mothers.

  Zhahar rushed over and wrapped her arms around one of Lee’s. As her mothers’ faces kept shifting, she saw the desperate fury and despair over what would happen to the Tryad when the last connection broke completely—and also saw a painful joy that the daughters had returned.

  When Morragen came into view and stayed, Zhahar said, “We ask our mothers and our leader to accept the presence of our friends, and to listen to this man. He comes from a different part of the world, and he can help us.”