Anne Bishop - Bridge of Dreams

Lee rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the ache between his eyes. Yes, Michael had lied to all of them, had known from the beginning that Glorianna could stop the Eater of the World. But he didn’t tell any of them, didn’t give the family a chance to discuss what they should do. He waited until he and Glorianna went to one of his landscapes. Then he told her that damn story about the Warrior of Light and convinced her to throw her life away to save the world.

“I could have reached her, you ripe bastard,” Lee whispered as he stared at the bridge. “There had been time to get into that landscape before she locked it tight. I could have gotten in and gotten her out if you hadn’t entangled us all in a fight, hadn’t broken my arm. Damn you, Michael. She wouldn’t have suffered in that place for so long, wouldn’t have come back different. If you hadn’t stopped me, I could have reached her.”

He sneezed twice, then felt the burn in his chest. Sick? Now? Damn it!

Well, a cold wasn’t so bad.

Then again, a cold could make a man fuzzy-headed enough to impair judgment, and a man working alone and trying to make decisions about the resonance of bridges that connected one piece of Ephemera with another couldn’t afford to have his judgment impaired.

Nothing he could do about this footbridge, so he would check out the other bridge he sensed was nearby and then rest for a day or two.

Where to go for that rest? Ah, that was the question. If he went back to Aurora, he could stay in his own cottage, using his illness as an excuse not to socialize. He’d get sympathy—and plenty of food—from his mother and Lynnea, Sebastian’s wife. Food and sympathy and quiet when he didn’t want company.

Or he could go back to the guesthouse in Sanctuary. There would be food and sympathy there too. But there was also a chance Glorianna would be visiting Sanctuary, and he wasn’t ready to see her again—especially if he looked into her green eyes and saw Belladonna looking back at him.

She scared him now in ways she never had before, and he didn’t know what to do about that.

Aurora, then. Or maybe the Den. Sebastian would let him use the room the Justice Maker still kept at the bordello and wouldn’t be inclined to fuss over him.

First he would check out the other bridge. It wasn’t in his notebook, so it wasn’t a bridge he had made. Which meant another Bridge had created a means of reaching Nadia’s landscapes, and anyone who could reach Nadia’s landscapes had the potential of reaching Glorianna’s.

He coughed again and felt the congestion in his chest break. He bent over and spat out phlegm. When he straightened, he had to wait for the dizziness to pass.

He’d been pushing too hard. Too little food, too little rest. Feeling too stubborn to return home after getting soaked during a storm last week. The urgency to check all the bridges that connected to his family’s landscapes was of his own making, an excuse to avoid the very people his diligence helped protect. He kept pushing himself because he was angry with Michael and Glorianna and even with Sebastian, and his own feelings resonating through Ephemera’s currents of power had come back to bite him in the ass—or in the chest—when a summer shower had turned into a cold storm.

“One more bridge,” he said, his voice crackling. He turned toward the spot where he’d left his little island imposed over this landscape and wondered if it would be there. It drifted every time he left it to inspect a bridge. Never far, but the certainty of the island never being more than a step away when he needed it had been a safety line when he worked alone in the dark landscapes.

He didn’t have that certainty anymore. He could make a one-shot bridge out of a small stone and get home if he found himself in a dangerous situation, but that wasn’t the same.

He felt the island’s resonance and knew he was almost beside it. As his fingers brushed against one of the trees, someone hailed him. He lowered his hand and turned, still only a step away from safety.

“Guardians and Guides,” the young man said as he hurried up to Lee. “Are you a Bridge? I haven’t seen another of us since the School.…” He trailed off.

“Since the Eater of the World destroyed the Landscapers’ and Bridges’ Schools.” Lee studied the stranger. Maybe old enough to have finished his training. “I’m Lee.” No reason to hide it or deny it.

“I’m Mason, but mostly I go by Mace. I guess you escaped too?”

“I wasn’t at the School when the Eater attacked.”

“Me neither,” Mace said. “I was working with one of the instructors, and the resonance of the bridge just changed to resonate with a dark landscape. My instructor thought I’d done something, so after he stabilized the bridge, he crossed over to make sure it still connected the landscapes it was supposed to, which included access back to the School. As soon as he stepped off the bridge and disappeared into another landscape, I started across.” Mace swallowed hard. “I think I heard him scream. I think I did. Next thing I remember is running until I came to another bridge. I ran across that one.”

“Where did you end up?” Lee asked.

“Not sure. Wasn’t anyplace I knew. I’ve been wandering since then. Finally reached this landscape a couple of days ago.” Mace looked around. “First place I’ve been in a while that looks close to home.”

Why don’t I believe him? Lee thought. What is it about his story that doesn’t feel true? “So you’ve been wandering. I know parts of this landscape fairly well. You must have been on the other side of that rise. I would have seen you sooner otherwise. Why didn’t you head for the other bridge? It would have been closer.”

Mace shrugged. He continued to look around, but there was less innocence in his eyes now. “I was hoping to find a village or even a farmhouse.” His eyes widened. “Guardians. Do you think this is one of Belladonna’s landscapes?”

False note in the voice. Calculation in the eyes.

“You’re not even close,” Lee lied, turning his voice into a slap. “Can’t you feel the difference between a dark landscape and a daylight one?”

Mace hunched his shoulders and looked embarrassed. “Sure, I can. It’s just…Well, wouldn’t you want to see Belladonna?”

“I’ve seen her.” Remembering the pure malevolence that sometimes filled his sister’s eyes since her return from the landscape that caged the Eater of the World, Lee shuddered. “Trust me. You don’t want to.”

“I think I do,” Mace said. “I’ve never seen a Dark Guide.…”

“She’s not a Dark Guide!” Lee snapped. Turning away from the footbridge that could bring Mace to one of Glorianna’s landscapes, Lee headed for the other bridge.

Like the Guardians of the Light and the Guides of the Heart who, long ago, were created as a response to human hearts crying out for help and guidance, the Dark Guides had been manifested by Ephemera in response to the darkness that dwells within the human heart. Glorianna wasn’t just a Landscaper; she was a true Guide of the Heart. Even if Belladonna reveled in dark emotions, she was still one half of Glorianna Belladonna and couldn’t change into a Dark Guide. Nothing and no one could change into a Dark Guide. Not even the wizards who were descended from them but weren’t purebloods.

Are you sure? a sly voice whispered in his mind. Are you really sure? She’s done so many things the rest of you can’t do. Would you be afraid of her if you were sure?

“Do you mind if I walk along with you?” Mace asked, hurrying to catch up to him. “It’s been a while since I’ve had another Bridge to talk to.”