Star Bridge (Chaterre Trilogy Book 1)

by Jeanne Foguth

  Her musical tones and easy smile sent chills racing up and down Larwin’s spine. By the time she finished speaking, every cell in his body vibrated to her speech pattern. Not being able to interpret her was irritating, but her apparent acceptance of GEA-4 rankled more. “What did she say?”

  “Probabilities indicate she expressed gratitude.”

  “In that case, give her your most sincere smile and nod.”

  “Androids are not programmed to smile.”

  Neither were warriors. “Try. We need this woman to show us how to survive inside this burned out husk.” Larwin turned his attention back to the woman who would save him. As he looked at her, the chill at his core warmed. His lips turned up, and he gave Nimri a smile warm enough to melt a Sibertan Witch. “Also, try to analyze her language. We’ll need to learn it.”

  Chapter Four

  Mind swirling with the memory of mammoth teeth gnashing at her face; then opening her eyes and seeing fierce eyes behind a strange round window and the ghostly white image of the outlandish child, Nimri kept her lids tight shut. Even so, she could smell the strangers’ unwashed scent and hear their voices. Slowly, she raised her lids and peered between her lashes. The two apparitions still persisted in this pain-ridden nightmare world.

  Had the Guardians found her unworthy and thrown her into the Star Bridge? If so, were the smelly pair of unwelcome intruders in her nightmare or had she landed in theirs? Sounds came from the eerie white one, but her lips didn’t move. A chill raced up and down Nimri’s spine. She recalled the Guardians throwing her into the Star Bridge, intending for the fierce monster within to consume her. Had they changed their minds and transported her to some new world populated by abominable beings?

  Her mouth went dry. The small silver-clad one made more strange sounds, then the big one spoke. If they were communicating with each other, she couldn’t understand a syllable they said.

  Was she dreaming about them?

  Had the thing with huge teeth consumed her? Was she actually dead? She’d imagined death as a transition between existences, not life in a shadowy, red-tinged hole inhabited by such odd beings. Nimri shifted. An ache shot up her spine. Soon, her entire body ached, while her left arm and her chest throbbed with pain.

  She probably wasn’t dead.

  What had the Guardians done to her? And why? Tears blurred her vision and threatened to scald rivulets down her cheeks. The large, tan-skinned one, who had stubble instead of hair, pantomimed breaking then having the white haired girl set her arm. Nimri blinked to clear her vision. Not a girl, perhaps a small woman, who looked as fragile as the fabric of her silvery one-piece suit and called herself Anthropoid. She blinked again. Colonel appeared bulky, much as she imagined a shaved Yeti would look with its bulging muscles coated in soot. He made more motions. She swallowed and wondered what he wanted to convey. Nimri placed her left palm over her right forearm, closed her eyes and looked within. Her right radius was broken in two spots and the ulna in one.

  The strange, small woman had done a good job realigning the bones. Nimri wished she had the power to instantaneously heal herself. Anyone, for that matter. She opened her eyes and studied the outlandish treatment method.

  While she understood that her arm had been injured, she couldn’t interpret when, why or how it had been broken.

  Nimri scrutinized the odd pair. She’d never dreamed of anyone remotely like them, not even in her worst nightmare, so she feared she was conscious. But if this place existed, what had happened to the monster with the huge teeth? Had they fought it to save her? Was that how she’d been hurt? The white one appeared too frail to fight a mosquito. The man looked brawny enough to fight Talon, but hardly strong enough to battle anything with the size fangs she’d seen.

  Hoping for a clue, Nimri studied the strange thing covering her forearm. The leather band was the only semi-normal component. Why use the outlandish fuzzy gray thing instead of healing herbs; did it have medicinal value? She touched it with her fingertips, but couldn’t detect any curative powers. She frowned. The hard, transparent cylinder resembled ice, yet it was neither cold nor damp. Like the odd pair, the items strapped to her arm left her with more questions than answers.

  And she was more likely to get answers from one of them then her strange splint. Nimri took a deep breath and looked up. The male looked back at her as if she were the most important person in the world, while the female kept to the shadows and all but ignored her. Did the small, bleached woman called Anthropoid resent her because her man ignored her?

  Nimri inhaled sharply and nearly choked on the stale air. He didn’t break eye contact. At least the male had taken off his terrifying head covering.

  Colonel twirled a balata leaf.

  The balata grove! The last place she recalled being before the Guardians threw her into the Star Bridge. She bit her lip and tried to remember everything she’d heard about the meaning of the balata, and could only think of positive things. He had to be giving her a test of some sort or a sign about his peaceful intentions.

  Nimri looked wildly at the stone walls and glimpsed the shadow of a swaying balata bough high up the wall. She must have broken her arm when she landed in the Star Bridge. This was not a nightmare. This was real. She’d finally understood the message he’d communicated with the leaf! Heart racing with panic, she jumped to her feet.

  “Where’s the entrance?” Dizziness made her stagger. The huge, repulsive male grabbed her around the waist and kept her from falling. His stench smelled even worse than his revolting head covering looked. She clamped her jaws together and tried not to gag or fight him. Until she could be certain of his motives and knew for sure if she had any more ordeals to pass, she dare not irritate him.

  But, oh, how he stank.

  Nimri inhaled through her mouth as she softly chanted, “I will not panic. I will not panic. There is a way out, but first I must pass whatever examination the guardians are giving me.” He helped her sit down and stepped away.

  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the problem. Perhaps finding the way out was her test. If she’d gotten in, she could get out by reversing events. Maybe. It should work if the Star Bridge had not shifted and taken her to a strange new world. Nimri opened her eyes. Again, the male was standing a pace away from her twirling the balata leaf and staring at her as if he could read her thoughts. When she looked from the leaf to his face, one corner of his mouth curved up.

  She wanted to trust his silent message, but that meant he’d battled the huge monster. Nimri looked behind her and saw ordinary stalactites and stalagmites. She frowned at them. She looked upward. The gray limestone wall had a square rosy hue twice her height up the wall.

  If the sacred grove lived up there, she might still be on Chatterre. Heart hammering, Nimri gazed until she felt certain she could make out the color of balata leaves.

  Nimri’s knees quivered with relief knowing that she needed to climb upward a dozen feet. She blinked. Suddenly the color seemed too orangish for balata leaves. What if her imagination created the color or wishful thinking imagined the shapes of the shadows?

  Why would she picture those plus two bizarre individuals? They had to be balata. She must be on Chatterre. She could return to her people. Nimri refused to contemplate climbing down Sacred Mountain with the encumbrance of a broken arm.

  For now, getting up to the balata grove was her priority. Once there, and undistracted by the shrinking walls, she would have passed her test, which meant she should be able to myst-mend her arm. Still, she’d need to begin the long healing process, now, in order to get out. Nimri placed her left palm over the breaks while she meditated on regenerating the bone.

  Colonel shifted his feet, then distracted her by tapping her shoulder. She ignored him, and focused mending thoughts on her ulna. The obnoxious man tapped harder. She hid her dislike for him before opening her eyes.

  He pointed at the shaft of magenta light. “Owyat?” When she blinked, he pantomimed climbing then raised an eyebro
w.

  Hoping that he’d confirmed that she’d understood her test, Nimri smiled. He pointed up. She nodded. “I understand and will make the climb soon.” Obviously, he expected her to heal herself much faster. That meant he knew she could do so. Lifted by hope, she renewed her efforts on the fractures.

  Colonel turned to pale Anthropoid and spoke gibberish. His voice filled with emotion as it raised and lowered in volume. In addition, he expressed himself with sweeping gestures of his free hand, while the other clutched the leaf as if the balata held the answers to all questions.

  Despite the fact that they appeared to be different species, the bleached woman exuded such cold resentfulness in every move she made and every word she spoke, that Nimri suspected they were mates. Nimri wished she could assure Anthropoid that jealousy was unwarranted.

  Anthropoid appeared child-sized, yet she had the body of an adult. When she spoke, each syllable sounded clear and precise. Nimri felt she should be able to understand Anthropoid’s words because the consonants and vowels were the same; but Anthropoid put the sounds together differently. Worse, the tiny woman’s body language seemed non-existent, so it became impossible to understand her.

  Strange to have a pair so opposite.

  Bizarre.

  Of course, the Guardians, with their all-seeing golden eyes were very strange and unnatural, too.

  Colonel made a grandiose gesture, which swept from the Star Bridge entrance downward. Then he indicated her. Anthropoid said something and Colonel quickly responded.

  Were they discussing her arrival or her failure to pass her test by healing herself more promptly and then climbing out?

  Colonel’s next hand movement made her wonder if they expected her to live here with them. Gooseflesh rippled over Nimri, as she tried to imagine never seeing the sky or her garden again.

  Please, no. She couldn’t live within these confining walls. Nimri worried that she’d shrink and fade like Anthropoid if she spent a millennium in the magic gateway.

  Perhaps their distracting behavior comprised another part of her test, and if she continued focusing on them, she would fail. Nimri refocused her energy on knitting the bone. She had almost finished when Colonel’s horrid stench enveloped her and she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders and move lower. She opened her eyes.

  His encircling arm felt strong. She risked a look at the hand splayed across her belly. Either he had the oddest skin she’d ever seen, or he had the most peculiar outfit.

  She shook her head to clear it. The head-covering lying on the ground caught her attention.

  Colonel gestured to make a point to Anthropoid. Nimri used the opportunity and pulled free.

  She leaned over, rolled the orb as she examined it. Smooth. Hard as a June bug’s shell. Round, except for what appeared to be a neck opening. She squinted through the gloom to study Colonel’s neck. Ha! The pieces matched, so the black muscles must be artificial. But why would a male go to such effort to make himself a suit of muscles instead of taking care of his body? Surely he didn’t believe his woman would be attracted to the ugly result.

  This pair was creepy.

  Their discussion seemed to be at an end.

  Colonel gently shifted Nimri backward and said something commanding. Anthropoid gracefully tossed a large black bag and three boxes up through the Star Bridge’s entrance. Nimri’s jaw dropped. She consciously snapped it shut. Could heavy lifting be woman’s work? Would that explain why the male wore those ridiculous artificial muscles?

  The male motioned to her and pantomimed tossing her after the boxes.

  Nimri had barely survived her fall in. She stepped backward and firmly shook her head. No, there had to be a better way to get out.

  Colonel gestured more emphatically. Could he be unbalanced? The last thing she needed was another broken arm. Or worse. Nimri raised her chin, shook her head and said, “No.” Colonel turned to Anthropoid and spoke. A breath later, the small woman picked up Colonel and tossed him out of the Star Bridge.

  Nimri’s knees shook and a woozy wave washed over her as she stared at the spot where he’d vanished. A moment later, his dark silhouette appeared against the muted light at the top of the shaft. While she gazed upward, small hands firmly clamped around her waist and picked her up. Before she could protest, Anthropoid hurled her upward.

  Nimri closed her eyes and screamed.

  A moment later, she hit a hard, yet yielding surface that felt like a reed mat. As she tumbled forward, limbs the size of balata trunks wrapped around her. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the base of the cursed tree that had knocked her into the pit. Her fingers itched to grasp her knife and make mincemeat of that jinxed plant.

  The ground beneath her moved.

  Another earthquake!

  Nimri wished she’d never had such a sacrilegious thought.

  She closed her eyes and rolled away from the Star Bridge. Pain shot up her injured arm, its howl radiated to every cell of her body. Nimri gasped and curled into a fetal position. Tears welled under her closed eyelids and she tasted bile.

  The bindings loosened, and something heavy rolled over her.

  For a terrifying moment, she expected to fall back into the portal. Instead, the ground stabilized.

  Something warm covered her shoulder and Colonel’s vile stench permeated the air. His deep, worried voice said something unintelligible.

  Nimri bit her lip, and prayed she wouldn’t throw up. Beads of perspiration gathered on her face. Interminable moments passed before the sick feeling subsided. With each passing moment, Colonel’s tone sharpened. Finally, she conquered the pain and threatening nausea enough to sit upright and peek through her lashes. He was sitting on the downhill side of her, but there was no sign of the embracing branches or heavy trunk.

  Colonel’s distraught expression made her catch her breath. The unexpected intensity calmed Nimri. She attempted a reassuring smile.

  He openly stared for an endless moment, then an answering smile spread across his lips until it seemed as if the sun had warmed the entire grove.

  Mesmerized by the transformation, she gaped at him. An image of him catching her, wrapping his arms around her and protecting her from injury filtered through her mind. Is that why he’d come to her? To help her? Protect her and her tribe? Relief, warm and sweet suffused her. He leaned forward and his hand crept toward her. For a moment, Nimri thought he meant to touch her.

  Instead, he rose to his feet and confirmed her earlier suspicions by removing his stiff muscle-suit. Peeling off the offensive black thing revealed a thin silvery garment nearly identical to Anthropoid’s. Beneath the thin, shiny garment, his underlying muscles seemed suspiciously genuine. If they were real, Colonel was the most splendid male specimen she’d ever seen.

  Why would he wear such an ugly garment if he really had strength? His pectorals rippled as if in response to her thought. Her mouth went dry. Her mind went blank.

  Nimri watched him walk back to the entrance, with self-assurance worthy of Kazza. Even the way he lay on the ground and lowered his strange black garment reminded her of raw animal grace. Male magnetism.

  Seconds later, Anthropoid’s head appeared over the edge.

  After Colonel and Anthropoid briefly conversed, the female glanced at Nimri’s arm, then said, “Noitdidnot.” Whatever her clipped one word answer meant, it relaxed Colonel.

  Unwilling to stare in his mate’s presence, Nimri placed her palm over her injured arm, focused healing thoughts on the knitting bone and willed the tissue to finish mending and the pain to subside. When the agony reduced to a dull ache, she glanced up. Colonel’s fingertips caressed a shimmering leaf in a reverence for the balata grove, which she’d tried to achieve since her great grandfather had told her about it and its importance for her people. Oddly enough, Anthropoid appeared as indifferent to the legendary trees as she seemed to everything else. The impassive woman responded when Colonel said things, which ended in a higher note. Nimri deduced that he was
asking questions and Anthropoid was providing answers. If she held more knowledge of the two, perhaps she’d lived here longer. Perhaps the Guardians were like tribal peacekeepers and passed their duties down at certain points.

  Nimri shook her head at the odd thought. Despite Colonel’s questions, it seemed unlikely that Anthropoid could be the elder, particularly when she gave the impression of being much younger.

  By the time the first fracture was somewhat mended, Nimri felt certain that Colonel venerated the trees, as did her Tribe, but that was all she was sure of.

  If only she could understand his words.

  Where did they come from? How could it be that they didn’t speak Chatterre’s language? Whether Chosen or Lost, both tribes spoke the common tongue. True, the Lost sounded like they spoke through their noses, and they accused her people, the Chosen, of slurring their words, but they could communicate. Nimri massaged her forehead, willing the tender flesh to cure, instead of turn into an ugly swollen lump. Since she’d fallen into the Star Bridge, one strangeness had followed another in a dizzying array.

  While Nimri became lost in thought, Colonel got something thin and flat out of one of his boxes. He handed it to her with an expectant look on his face. She took the silvery package decorated with intricate indigo markings. Nimri thanked Colonel and studied it. It felt lightweight and as smooth as his head covering; had proportions similar to the wing feather of a hawk, but this odd thing looked like no sort of feather she’d ever seen. She turned it over. It sparkled in the sun, nearly blinding her. Was it valuable? Was he giving it to her for luck? Might it be a sign of something? Could this be a sacred artifact? A remembrance of her great-grandfather? She looked at him for the answer.

  He’d gotten one for himself and had torn back the silver to uncover something, which smelled like rancid food. Nimri’s nose wrinkled.

  He took a bite of it, chewed and motioned for her to do the same.