The Bridge Beyond Her World (The Boy and the Beast Book 2) (3 page)

“Pike, you’ll accompany me and Alael. Winter and Aven, you’ve met Rueik and Arentiss. They will take you to medical room three and I will be with you shortly.”

Winter watched Karience walk away and immediately felt unprotected, though the Guardians beside her were not threatening.

Rueik and Arentiss led them through an oval door that silently slid open without a touch. It revealed a new hallway with purple lights glowing from the floor.

“The Relic is like an octopus,” said Rueik. “Only she has corridors instead of tentacles.”

Winter wondered what an octopus looked like, or tentacles for that matter.

“It’s strangely beautiful,” said Winter. “I could never have imagined such perfectly smooth walls. I feel like I’m inside a metal snake.”

“I’m curious,” said Arentiss, with a serious face that seemed permanently settled onto her features. “What do farmers such as yourselves know of our order?”

Another door opened and they passed through.

“You guard the portals,” said Aven. “You keep peace on other worlds.”

They entered a fourth door that opened into an empty room. The door closed with a breath of air the moment Winter followed Aven through.

“What else?” said Arentiss, turning to face them. Rueik stood beside her, hands held behind his back.

Winter said, “I’ve heard the Guardians protect a universe they believe the Makers have abandoned.”

Arentiss’s eyes narrowed. “At present, I do not care to speculate about the Makers, but you are wrong about the reach of our influence. We do not currently protect even a fraction of the worlds within our own galaxy, not to mention the universe. Do you know how many galaxies comprise our universe?”

Winter shook her head.

“Seven. Ours is called the Silver Hand Galaxy.” Her head turned sharply to face Aven. “What else do you know or not know?”

Aven answered, “You have an army of starships to protect the worlds under your care.”

“How many worlds do we protect and what are they being protected from?”

Aven shrugged. “Beasts. Whatever those are?”

“Yes, primarily from Beasts.” Arentiss nodded. “The Beasts are animals that have been inhabited by a spirit creature called an Aeraphim. These Aeraphim seduce the humans on their world. They offer gifts to the humans who follow them and turn kings and warlords to their allegiance. They give power to those who become their puppets.”

“We call these Beast followers
Shadowmen
,” said Rueik, a frown marking his youthful face. “Some are very dangerous.”

“Do you know how many worlds we protect from the Beasts?” asked Arentiss.

Winter tried to think of a number she might have heard in the past, but it was Aven who broke the silence.

“I’ve heard it’s close to one thousand,” said her brother.

“Incorrect,” said Arentiss. “Eighteen-thousand, four hundred and seventy-two as of this morning.”

“You ignorant farm boy,”
tapped Winter.

Aven struggled to suppress a smile. He tapped back,
“Ask her how many boogers she has in her nose.”

“I see you communicate with your hands,” said Arentiss. “Is this common among the farmers in your community?”

“No,” said Winter. “It is our own private language. Just Aven and I.”

“How old were you when you devised it?”

Rueik put his arm around Arentiss and pulled her off-balance, in what seemed a playful hug. “You’ll get used to this one. If she had her way, she would question you for days. It’s how she gets to know people. She’s a scientist by nature. Literally. She can’t help but pummel you with questions.”

Arentiss’s eyes showed no emotion. “Rueik is right. I come from a people group known for their scientific acumen. To certain other cultures, our questions may be seen as blunt or shrewd. Or I’m told,
annoying
. I do not mean to be rude.

“One more question though, if you don’t mind. Do you have any idea what your role will be as a Guardian?”

“We are in the dark,” said Winter. “Baron Rhaudius only told us we were joining the Guardians. Nothing more.”

The muscles on Arentiss’s petite face tightened. Clearly she wanted to question them more.

“Relic, give us two beds,” said Rueik in a formal voice. From the room’s white tiled floor rose a pair of rectangular beds topped with a cushioned surface. “Lie down. Karience and Alael will be arriving soon.”

“You speak and the ship listens?” said Winter.

“It is programmed—I should say, it is…” Rueik laughed through his nose. “You don’t know what the word ‘programmed’ means, do you?”

“No,” said Winter.

“It’s something from an advanced world. I came from a world like yours, and it is still difficult to explain. Think of it like magic, although its not. It’s as natural as learning to make syrup from tree sap. One only has to figure it out. It is the same with the ship and many other things. They must be discovered—only, a hundred things must be discovered, one after another, to get to a ship that obeys your voice.”

“I don’t understand how something like a ship can be discovered,” said Aven. “Or summoning beds to rise from the floor at the command of your words.”

“Another four to ten thousand years,” said Arentiss, “and your culture will likely have the tools to make ships just like this.”

Winter placed her hand on one of the rectangular beds. It was soft and pliable. “Are these part of the
procedure
Karience spoke of?” The idea of having to lie down made her uncomfortable. It suggested something beyond conversation. What was a
procedure
?

“Yes,” said Arentiss. “It is painless. Just lie down and relax.”

Painless?
thought Winter. Were procedures usually uncomfortable?

Winter let go of Aven’s hand and they both sat on the strange beds. Arentiss stood at the foot of Aven’s, while Rueik hovered beside hers.

“Do your sigils mark your rank?” asked Winter, eyeing the white-red-black patch on Rueik’s white shirt. “I noticed both you and Arentiss have different colors than Karience.”

“Arentiss and I are Missionaries, marked by the white-red-black on our sigils.”

“Your world is in transition,” said Arentiss. “Loam has signed the charter and is serving its twenty-eighth year toward the goal of becoming a fully protected, fully privileged world. In twelve more years, you will receive a Cultivator. That individual will see you through twenty more transition years, at the end of which you’ll become an officially recognized member.”

Rueik rolled his eyes. “What I think Arentiss is trying to tell you is that when a world is in transition, that world must serve as a Missionary enclave for the Guardians, working with the rulers of the planet, like your Royals. Loam has two teams of Missionaries.”

“We
did
have two teams,” said Arentiss.

Rueik appeared thrown off-balance by her remark. A seriousness crept onto his face. “It’s not our role—”

“I know,” said Arentiss, and turned her eyes on Aven, then to Winter. Winter felt unnerved by the coldness of her stare. “You’ll find out in due time, I’m certain.”

“Your hands,” said Aven to Arentiss. “May I see them?”

One side of Arentiss’s mouth curved into a fragile smile. Without a word, she stretched both her hands out, palm up.

“Your hands are soft, like a child’s, but you look close to my mother’s age when she died.”

Her smile disappeared and a sharp line formed on her brow. She withdrew her hands. “I am only twenty-eight in Loam’s years. Was your mother a babe when she had you?”

Winter found it curious that Arentiss would take offense. It was fascinating to realize this woman had a different understanding of her brother’s words. Aven had paid her hands a compliment. Only Royals had smooth hands. Or was it the other comment Aven had made. Did the woman’s advanced culture not value the wisdom and honor of age?

Aven appeared confused. “My mother was seventeen when she had Winter and I.”

Rueik intervened. “Arentiss is still new to Loam. Forgive her if she doesn’t understand primworld cultures like you and I come from.”

“What is a prim culture?” asked Winter.

“A primitive culture,” said Rueik. “A world that does not have starships and other such things. These advanced worlds are called upworlds.”

Winter liked Rueik. He was like them, and yet he clearly understood much more about the larger universe. He seemed to enjoy helping them understand new things.

She turned her head toward Arentiss. “My brother was only asking to find out what it is Missionaries do,” said Winter. “If your hands are not calloused, then you must work more with your mind. What kind of mission do you perform?”

“Our mission is to blind jump through the portal,” said Arentiss.

“What is a blind jump?” said Winter.

Arentiss cocked her head to the side. “Do you not know how the portals work?”

“No,” said a woman’s voice to their left. “I don’t believe they do.”

Winter turned. Karience and Alael had silently entered the room.

CHAPTER 3

KARIENCE

Karience looked on at the two young farmers with admiration. They were the common man and woman of Loam she was working for—not the contemptuous royalty she had to navigate weekly. A crown could be so corrupting. But then, so too was the powerful technology at her disposal.

She was uncomfortable with what she had done to Pike. It felt wrong to alter a human being by force—no matter how good the end results. It was truly an end justifying the means, and it had been her only option. If she didn’t have the Physician, Alael, and his kind at her disposal, what would she have done? The Magnus Empyrean was adamant that she chose whoever Baron Rhaudius recommended, and, to her annoyance, the three were an all or nothing package.

“Rueik, Arentiss, if you would excuse us.”

The two departed without a word. Karience made her way over to Aven and Winter, while Alael strode to a small table in the corner and absorbed himself in a sheaf of papers.

Both at seventeen years, these two farmers would have still been considered children on her world, but here on Loam the commoner learned responsibility and a work ethic at a far earlier age. Though they were mature, they were desperately lacking in other areas. They had no idea what they were walking into, although neither did she. Commoners were almost never recommended to positions within the Guardians. On primitive worlds like Loam, it was a queen’s sister’s son, or a king’s bastard daughter, or a faithful friend of a princess or prince who received a recommend. And the Guardians preferred it this way for good reason. Though many of the Royal recommends were ignorant or pompous narcissists, or both, there were always a few who had both character and a capable court education on which she could further build. But with a commoner, you were lucky if they could read or write, and they would certainly be conceptually behind in almost every category. Science, mathematics, languages, psychology, and the type of knowledge one took in by osmosis living on an advanced world. Technology would likely confound them for years, as would gaining a grasp of the wider worlds and varying cultures. There was only one reason that out of one hundred and eighty-nine recommends, Baron Rhaudius's three had won out.

The farm girl, Winter.

The girl sat on the examination table, legs tucked against her chest, arms wrapped around them, calmly observing her and Alael. She looked just like the image the little beetle had captured when it brought back Winter’s assessment. She looked like the fabled nymph. Slender, dark hair, skin the color of a dry leaf; an array of feathers tied in her hair. She had looked homely in the image, but in person there was an exquisite allure about her crooked nose and unruly appearance.

And then there was her brother, Aven. His hair was a mix of dark and blond, and it fell in half curls over his brow. His face was strong, eyes green like the sea overlooked by the Guardian’s Tower; Aven had a beautiful mouth with lips she’d heard again and again speak peace and kindness. He looked skeptically at her now, his eyes probing her.

The beetle that followed Aven had captured much of his bifurcated psychology. It sprang from a painful loss he’d recently endured; one which she had only glimpsed in fragments. His parents had been killed. And a loved one named Harvest. And others, perhaps grandparents or aunts and uncles? She didn’t know the circumstances other than Baron Rhaudius was involved. Aven’s mind was scarred. She saw these wounds plainly on the young man’s face before her, taking their toll on his handsome features.

“This must all be very strange to you,” said Karience. “How are you feeling? Uncomfortable? Overwhelmed?”

“Thankful,” said Winter. “You’ve saved us. I don’t know why we are here, but I promise this: we are hard workers and whatever we can do, we will do it well.”

Karience felt Winter’s words like a fire on her skin, warming to the point of pain. The girl was so innocent. Naive of the situation she was entering. She wished the circumstances were stable and safe, as they had been before. But things had taken a sinister turn.