Prophet: Bridge & Sword

by JC Andrijeski

  Balidor closed the door behind us.

  I used my headset to switch off the normal surveillance feeds in the room. Without waiting for any of the other four to sit, move closer to me, open their mouths, or do anything really, I spoke, cutting them off before they could even start.

  “Look,” I said. “I don’t want to hear it. Not from any of you. Not one fucking word about me, about Revik… about anything to do with what I just did.”

  They all stood on the opposite side of the table, open mouthed.

  They all fell silent in their minds as soon as I spoke, but their reactions weren’t uniform. Wreg and Balidor looked vaguely surprised. Chan I couldn’t read at all. I saw Jon frown, his expression holding its normal, well, expressiveness.

  Jon actually looked pissed, I realized.

  It occurred to me that he’d fully intended to chew me out for how I’d just treated Revik, especially since I’d done it in front of other people.

  “I know what I did,” I said, aiming my words at Jon. “Believe me, I know. And believe me, I’m going to hear about it.” Feeling a pulse of pain shiver through my light, I gritted my teeth. “We’re not here for that. I want to talk to you about something else.”

  The silence deepened.

  I caught another series of exchanged looks, especially between Jon and Wreg. I saw similar but different looks flow between Wreg and Balidor.

  “Seriously,” I said. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word about Revik. I’m going to deal with that, all right? I want to talk to you about yesterday. About the Children of the Bridge. And by that, I don’t in any way mean whatever personal relationship you might have knowledge of between Revik and the representative of that group we met last night.”

  They all looked at me again.

  That time, the surprise was unmistakable.

  Jon looked particularly startled, especially in relation to the last thing I said.

  “Personal relationship?” Jon blurted. “What the hell does Revik have to do with that?” He looked at Wreg, then Balidor, as if waiting for them to clarify.

  “He has absolutely nothing to do with it,” I said, my voice an open warning. “Like I just said.”

  Jon shut his mouth, but his expression, if anything, grew more bewildered.

  Then Wreg cleared his throat, making the sign of the Bridge with his hand.

  “Cut the formality crap,” I snapped. “Jesus. Just talk, Wreg.”

  Jon jumped a little, then frowned, looking between me and Wreg. I thought for a minute, he might have something to say about how I’d just talked to his husband, but Wreg laid a hand on Jon’s arm as if to calm him, addressing his words directly to me.

  “Perhaps I simply do not wish to be demoted, too, princess?” Wreg said, his voice holding a faint humor. “There seems to be a lot of that going around today… so you’ll forgive me for being a little cautious.”

  When I didn’t answer, he bowed again. I couldn’t help noticing that, when he finished, he kept his head slightly lower than usual. Giving me a cautious smile, he watched my eyes.

  “What is it about this group that you wish to discuss, Esteemed Bridge?” he said politely.

  I looked at Balidor, who was the only one who didn’t look confused.

  Instead, he watched me warily, a harder set to his jaw.

  From his expression, he now understood exactly why I’d chosen this particular group for this conversation. I fully intended to gang up on him, and I could see him realizing that even as he measured my eyes.

  “Balidor knows them,” I said, blunt. Placing a hand on my hip, I motioned towards him with the other. “I know he won’t like this, but I’m looking for some transparency, brothers and sisters. Balidor knew the seer that Jon ran into last night. His name is Dalejem. And he used to be Ahdipan, under Balidor, before he was recruited to the Children of the Bridge.”

  Letting my words sink in for a few beats, I continued to stare at Balidor.

  “I was told that any further information on that group, who runs it, what they have to do with me, with us, was strictly need-to-know,” I added. “Further, I was told that I was not a part of that privileged group, for security reasons. I intend to ask my husband some of these questions, as well, since he, too, had prior knowledge of this group. But I thought I might start that discussion here.”

  The silence in the room deepened.

  Chandre, Wreg and Jon were all looking at Balidor now.

  In particular, I noted the angry scowl on Wreg’s face.

  “I can see from your faces that none of you were deemed worthy of this ‘need to know’ group, either,” I said, looking back at Balidor. “And while I understand that you likely have good reason for your silence, brother Balidor… as you always have good reasons for the decisions you make for your intermediaries… I admit, my patience is below zero with the secrets and factional bullshit going on within my leadership team right now. Secrets about Revik’s light, and his ties to Menlim’s construct.” I gave Balidor another hard look. “Secrets about mysterious groups I do not know if I should count among my enemies or my friends.”

  Feeling my jaw harden more, I dropped the formality.

  “How the fuck am I supposed to operate like this?” I said, slamming a palm on the organic table. “Seriously?” I glared at Balidor. “How am I supposed to make tactical decisions? My own fucking team doesn’t trust me with sensitive information!”

  When I looked up that time, Balidor had paled.

  Wreg looked pissed off now, too, and so did Jon. I couldn’t tell who Jon was mad at, but it was pretty clear from Wreg’s face that most of his anger was now aimed at Balidor.

  “How are we going to resolve this?” I said.

  When no one spoke, I looked around at all of them again.

  “Who do I go to, to resolve this?” I said. “The Council? Tarsi? Who the fuck is actually in charge here? And if it’s not me, who should I be giving my recommendations to?” My gaze swiveled back to the Adhipan leader. “Is it you, Balidor?”

  I saw his light spark out as I stared at him, holding more emotion than maybe I’d ever seen on him, at least outside of a personal context. Realizing I’d just hit probably at the core of his identity, by questioning his loyalty, I frowned.

  Clicking, I stared down at the table, shaking my head.

  “I can’t have this,” I said, looking at each of them. “I can’t fucking have this. Do you all understand what I am saying? If you want someone else in charge, then fucking put someone else in charge. Do you want Revik in charge again, like he was when I was gone? Fine. I’ll answer to Revik. No questions asked. If that’s what everyone wants, then that’s what we’ll do. But I’m not going to deal with this bullshit and dishonesty from my own team.”

  When I looked around at them that time, they all looked pale.

  Wreg shifted his weight on his feet, then looked around at the rest of them.

  “Do we need to bring the Council into this?” I demanded.

  The one person who hadn’t seemed to react as much as the others was the first to answer.

  “No,” Chandre said, her voice hard.

  Stepping forward from where she’d stood by the door, she glared around at the rest of them, arms crossed.

  “I love the Sword,” she said, jerking her chin forward as she spoke. “I will follow him, if my Bridge commands it. I will give him my life, if she demands that, too.” She stared directly at me. “But you are my leader, Esteemed Bridge. Not him.”

  I felt a pulse of agreement off Wreg, who glared at Balidor.

  “I second that,” Wreg said, his voice gruff.

  Hearing the emotion there, I looked at him, then at Jon, who also looked angry.

  Exhaling at the frustration I felt on Balidor’s light, as well as how closed he felt, I looked down at the table, leaning on the mirrored surface with both palms.

  “I know you are not happy with me right now, brother Balidor, for ganging up on you like this.” I shook my
head, clicking softly. “But I chose to ask the question this way, first, with just a few of us, rather than to bring it to a public forum.” I measured the expression in his gray irises. “Perhaps I should ask you this. Do you agree we have a problem in our command structure?”

  I saw a different look flicker across Balidor’s eyes, even as some of the anger left his light.

  After another pause, where I watched him think, he abruptly relaxed.

  “Yes,” he said, exhaling.

  “Then what do you propose?” I said, my voice harder. “What would you suggest to me, assuming you wish to offer your advice?”

  Balidor thought about that, too.

  I watched as a deeper understanding penetrated his face and his light, in a way that it hadn’t before, especially not last night on the pier when we talked.

  “I think you are correct.” Balidor raised his eyes, meeting my gaze. I felt the apology in his light, even before he voiced it. “You have my sincere apology, Esteemed Bridge. You are absolutely correct that I acted wrongly in this… and that the current situation is untenable. I have inadvertently caused the situation today, by permitting information to become segmented, rather than ensuring that it reached you, and your entire leadership team, unfiltered.”

  Pausing, Balidor frowned, his eyes distant as he seemed to be thinking more concretely about this.

  “…If you will permit me a few hours,” he continued. “I would like to attempt to contact the leader of the Children of the Bridge.”

  Wreg rounded on him, his nearly-black eyes holding a thinly disguised fury.

  “You pigfucker. You’re in contact with them?”

  Balidor’s jaw hardened. His gaze never wavered from mine.

  “If you will give me that time, Esteemed Sister,” he continued, his voice deferential. “…I will ask her permission directly, if I may be released from the oath I gave her, that I would disclose nothing about her people, or about her, to any living soul.” He hesitated, his eyes holding an apology. “…Including you, Esteemed Bridge.”

  I blinked, surprised.

  Turning over his words, I gave him a seer’s nod.

  “Granted,” I said.

  He nodded, then met my gaze again.

  “I will also speak to Tarsi,” he added, his eyes holding an additional meaning. “About the other question you raised, regarding your husband’s light, and the fears we have about its potential interactions with Menlim’s construct.”

  That time, I felt my light open for real.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I would very much appreciate it. Especially since I still intend for us to attempt an extraction in Dubai.”

  For a longer pause, no one moved, or spoke.

  I sighed again. “There’s one more thing.” I straightened from the table, feeling the smallest amount of tension leave my shoulders.

  “And what is that, Esteemed Bridge?” Wreg said, cautious.

  I looked around at all of them, clicking a little in amusement at the wariness I saw there.

  “Lily,” I said. “I want to know when Lily can start to leave the tank. On a trial basis.” I cleared my throat, combing my fingers through my hair, realizing only then that it was still damp from the shower I’d taken. Clicking softly, I shook my head. “At the very least, she needs contact with other kids. Revik and I have talked about it, and we simply can’t be in there as much as we’d like. I know everyone pitches in, and we both appreciate that, but we want her to have play dates. With other kids. Human, if there are no other seer kids. Ideally, she’d be able to play in the actual ship, and not be stuck in that damned cell all the time. But we’ll take whatever we can get for now. Whatever passes security muster.”

  Another silence fell over the room.

  That time, when I looked at Jon, I saw understanding in his eyes. I saw it in Wreg’s too, even as a smile toyed at the edges of his lips.

  Somehow, just in feeling Wreg and Jon’s shift, that hotter current in my light relaxed even more. I felt my relief intensify, maybe just because they all seemed so relieved I wasn’t going to quit. I turned my eyes on Balidor, and saw understanding in his face, as well.

  I could see him thinking, too, but I couldn’t read which direction his thoughts were turning.

  “Well?” I said. “Balidor?”

  He nodded, his jaw suddenly firm. “Yes,” he said.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes… Esteemed Bridge,” he said, smiling.

  At his expression, I let out a snort, in spite of myself.

  Balidor returned my smile, but I saw something else in his eyes, too, something that lingered in the background, reminding me of what I glimpsed on him during my confrontation with Revik in the security station.

  “We will arrange it,” he said simply. “Give me twelve hours, Esteemed Bridge. We will then arrange for regular time for your daughter to at least get exposure to other children. I will have them look into more ways we might let her out of the tank on a limited basis, too.”

  Feeling something in my heart loosen, something that had been pounding and cracking there for weeks now, I leaned back, gripping the backs of two of the metal chairs. Briefly, I found myself fighting tears, but that pain in my chest was worse. It felt good, that pain, but it also seemed to let everything out all at once, catching me off-guard.

  I couldn’t quite let Balidor off the hook though, even now.

  Are you ever going to really trust me, ‘Dori? I asked him, my thoughts quiet.

  He turned, looking at me directly with those light gray eyes.

  After a faint silence, where I felt and heard nothing in return from his light, his words rose, equally quiet, in my own mind.

  I do trust you, Esteemed Bridge, he sent. I wish you knew how much.

  I frowned, my eyes still focused on his.

  Clicking, he only shook his head. I will do as you command. I vow it, sister. Just as I swear my loyalty to you.

  I nodded, but felt my chest start to hurt a second time. Sorry for doing it like this. You didn’t leave me a lot of choice, ‘Dori.

  He nodded, once, his eyes distant.

  I know I didn’t, Esteemed Bridge, he said only.

  Looking at that expressionless face, I realized he meant that, too.

  27

  AND THEN

  SUNLIGHT FLASHES OVERHEAD, peppered by shadow, then banded by it.

  The flickers confuse Loki at first. He feels far away, distant. Everything is quiet. Inside his head, it is quiet. He floats somewhere, looking down on a body and face he scarcely knows.

  Then, some part of him snaps back.

  Pain explodes through him, through every nerve ending, every synapse.

  It devastates him, blanks his mind.

  His head hurts, his back, his side. He groans, feeling something wrong with his shoulder, writhing on slick, muddy ground that won’t allow him purchase.

  If he stays here, he will die.

  He knows this, in every fiber of his being.

  Yet he can’t make his body work.

  He feels his skin, moving muscle and bone… that’s something. The reality of his aliveness brings a whisper of relief, but it’s quickly overshadowed by pain, by the sickness that comes with the pain, the pounding in his head, the bile in his throat. The thick, mechanical motion of shadow and light confuses him, worsening the nausea in his gut.

  He lets out a groan, feeling hands on him, hearing the deafening whir of rotors.

  Someone grabs hold of him, hoists him up.

  The abrupt change, happening so fast, brings a wave of panic. That panic washes through him, deeper than the shadows can manage, and then––

  ––LOKI GASPS, FEELING as if a long breath had gone by, little more.

  Not much time. No time at all, really.

  But now there is a ceiling overhead, not simply sky and those dizzying, sickening, whirring blades. He gasps as pain shoots up his leg and his shoulder. He feels hands on him again, but they seem to be acting with pu
rpose.

  He recognizes Kalgi’s face, then Illeg’s… that large seer, Rex…

  The names come to him, absent of meaning. They come absent of any context.

  He fights to breathe, still feeling that moment stretch, lost in a silence that makes his breaths deafening in his own ears. He can still hear that dull heartbeat of blades, thudding through the sky overhead, pulsing and whining under the air, the same air they shove and push into a thick eddy to bring the vessel upward.

  His nausea returns as his stomach plummets. The pain worsens around his head. He sees Illeg with something in her mouth, a tube of what might be glass or plastic. Her eyes meet his, a grim apology, and then she slams the needle into his leg.

  He lets out a shriek of pain and then––

  And then…

  THERE ARE MORE and thens…

  More and more, faster than the spinning blades.

  More and faster than he can count.

  Some are sharp, clear, like that beautiful, sickening but mesmerizing play of sunlight and shadow over the bright pink of a sunset-kissed sky, its blue and purple clouds bleeding stars at the corners. Some are vague––faces and sounds, hands on him, groping, hurting him, but with the light of their owners warming him, too.

  Some feel fanciful, at least half imagined––sunlight shimmering through pink cherry blossoms, golden-white oceans sparkling with diamonds near a rock stuck like it had been dropped just off the shore from high, reddish-orange cliffs.

  That ocean teems, filled with presence, with light, with love. He feels presences of its creatures in every part of his body, humming with life and light, singing to him in the further reaches of his mind.

  He knows it must be fanciful.

  He knows it can’t be real.

  He watches more of those and thens come and go, until eventually, somewhere in that primordial soup between consciousness and oblivion…

  He lets oblivion take him.

  28

  I KNOW BUT I DON’T KNOW