Song #3

At no time in the Woodbine’s history had a bigger crowd assembled. Word had spread quickly of the Jackal’s defeat. The news that the Bridge Builder had come and was going to repair the bridges between the worlds was on everyone’s lips. Guardians and mortals stretched to the horizon, as far as the eye could see, waiting for Edward.

Edward allowed his mother to buckle the final strap on his new Guardian armor. It was made of white scales and shimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

Edward glanced over at her and smiled. She looked beautiful, dressed in a royal blue gown and wearing a silver circlet upon her head.

“Oh, but he is,” said a second voice. Edward turned to see Jack the faun approaching. “Well, he’s not far, anyway. Tollers got word from Specter’s Hollow a few hours ago. Melchior passed through almost immediately. He’s probably waiting for you in the Higher Places even as we speak.”

A Guardian with short, cropped hair and beautiful pink wings ran up to Edward. She gave his armor an appraising glance and nodded appreciatively.

Tabitha gave them an experimental flap. “Better than ever!” she exclaimed. “Thanks for leading the choir in that unusual Restoration Song of yours. Where did you learn it? You’ll have to teach it to me sometime.”

“I would if I could,” Edward said with a smile. “But most of the time, I just sing whatever pops into my mind.”

“It’s time!” Jack said with a grin. “Let’s go show that Guardian Council something they’ll never forget, eh?” He winked up at Edward.

Edward’s stomach was full of butterflies. As he followed Jack, he noticed that Bridgette was nowhere to be seen. Concerned, he pulled Tabitha aside and whispered, “Have you seen Bridgette?”

Edward continued to walk, growing more and more concerned. Where was she? Had something happened? His brown eyes scanned the crowd. There were mortals of all shapes, sizes, and appearances. He spotted the praying mantis in her flowing Chinese robes and the group of Swiss army horned unicorns who he’d seen at the Dancing Faun when he’d first arrived in the Woodbine. They waved at him and he returned the wave with a smile. Then, just as he approached the crest of a hill, he spotted her. She was standing off from the crowd, beneath a tall tree.

“Tell them to wait for me,” he said to a protesting Tabitha as he elbowed through the crowd and ran over to Bridgette.

Jack stepped up to the podium and waved for the crowd’s attention. They listened as he embarked on a long speech, detailing the history of the Woodbine and the prophetic arrival of the Bridge Builder. The faun had made certain that Zephath and the rest of the Guardian Council were given front row seats for this part of the event, and relished the humble expressions on their usually haughty faces.

The girl wiped her red, swollen eyes and said, “Once you rebuild the bridges, I w-won’t be able to come with you.”

Edward stared at her, confused. “Of course you will,” he said gently. “Everybody who wants to leave the Woodbine can come.”

She stared up at him with an anguished expression on her face. “You don’t understand. It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. It’s just that . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Edward put his arm around her and gave her a hug. “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “I’ll be right beside you.”

She gently took his arm from her shoulders. Turning from him, she said, “I can’t go because I’m not able to. I’m in a coma back on Earth, remember? I’m trapped both here in the Woodbine and in the hospital. The doctors are treating my burns. I . . . If I try I can almost feel them working, even though I’m also here with you. They’re trying to keep me alive, even though I might never wake up. I can’t go with you if I’m still there.”

Edward could see the pain on Bridgette’s face. She was trapped between life and death. He thought back to the moment when she’d told him about the fire that had so severely burned her and had taken her baby sister’s life. Then he thought of all the times that Bridgette had encouraged him, helping him press forward even though he didn’t believe in himself. She had been there from the beginning, offering kindness and friendship at every turn. Without her help, Edward wouldn’t be standing here now.

“Bridgette, no matter what happens, even if I rebuild the bridge and everybody in the Woodbine goes forward, I’m not going to leave you behind.”

Bridgette rushed into Edward’s arms. The two held each other for a long time, not saying anything. Finally Bridgette stepped back, her eyes still shining with tears. She gave Edward a watery smile and said, “Well, it sounds like the crowd has heard just about enough of Jack’s speech. I think it’s time for you to do some bridge building.”

Edward smiled down at her. He took her small hand in his own and the two of them walked down the hill to the podium where Jack stood, wrapping up his long speech.

As Edward and Bridgette approached, a cheer erupted from the crowd. Edward felt a renewed sense of nerves as he surveyed the huge pieces of stone scattered all around the destroyed fortress. They were the remains of the first bridge—huge, oblong pieces of stone that weighed several thousand tons each.

Edward hadn’t formed a plan for building the bridges. He’d assumed, like the other times, that when the moment came he would just know what to do. But now, as the crowd fell into a hushed silence, he found that he didn’t have the slightest idea how to proceed.

Edward stared at the field, thousands of eyes boring into him. Here he was, the supposed Bridge Builder, and he had no idea how to do it! His heart started racing and he licked his dry lips. Murmurs spread through the concerned assembly. Everyone wondered what Edward was waiting for.

Edward’s hand flicked down to his pocket. It was an old habit of his, reaching for his deck of playing cards whenever he felt nervous. He wished he had his cards now. It had been so long since he’d felt their reassuring touch.

Edward had purged the poison of the Four from his system when he sang his Song of Power, but there was still a voice in his head. This time it was his own, wondering if he was the prophetic hero after all. Maybe it had all been a gigantic coincidence. What did he know about building bridges? The only thing he’d ever been able to build was card houses . . .

As Edward gazed at the huge, oblong pieces of stone, a huge smile spread across his face. There they were, scattered among the ruins. Fifty-four of the most perfectly shaped pieces of stone he could imagine.

One by one the images of his long lost deck flashed through his mind. He visualized placing the cards against one another, as he’d done when building his countless card houses, and a song burst from his lips, a triumphant song the likes of which had never been heard in any of the Seven Worlds.

It was in a new language, and as he sang, the huge pieces of stone broke free from where they’d been sitting for thousands of years. Centuries of earth trailed from their flattened edges as they followed the ornate pattern that Edward created. One by one, the pieces settled upon each other, eliciting gasps from the awestruck crowd. The mammoth stones stretched an infinite distance, soaring up toward the worlds beyond.

Edward knew that it was but one of the Seven Bridges that he was rebuilding. There were four more that needed his attention, and to get to them he would have to travel upward and find the waiting pieces.

There are seven bridges between the worlds
And five of them are broken.
The sixth one has no rails to hold
And the seventh one was stolen.

He didn’t know about the sixth and seventh bridges. From the sound of the verses, it seemed that the sixth must be intact but hard to cross. As far as the seventh one went, he could only wonder who had stolen it and why? If there were no pieces, he would have to find another way to build the bridge.

The last stone rose into the air, soaring upward until it was lost in the clouds, journeying to take its place at the end of the long line of others. Nobody but Edward could see where it was supposed to fit, but in his mind Edward saw the last piece of the puzzle perfectly. And with a satisfying click it fell into place.

The fully restored bridge shimmered with a gentle light. The awestruck crowd finally found their voices. A mighty cheer resonated through the Woodbine, making the ground shake.

It had happened. The first of the five bridges that the Jackal had broken was rebuilt. The countless souls trapped in the Woodbine for thousands of years would finally be able to journey upward.

Edward’s mother stood beside him, a look of fierce pride written on her face. Edward wondered if his father could somehow see him, or if he knew what Edward had done.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Guardian High Council, who sheepishly congratulated him and suggested that Jack should be the first to set foot on the newly made bridge. Jack hesitated, insisting that Edward take the historic step. But Edward was thinking about Bridgette and told Jack that he should do it. After all, it was Jack who had recognized Edward for who he truly was.

Jack nodded and, extending his hand to Joyce, led the procession of souls to Lelakek, the world that legends said was closest to the Woodbine.

Edward stood, his hand clasped in Bridgette’s, watching as the steady stream of Woodbine inhabitants made their way up the bridge.

Tabitha, Rachel, and the other young Guardians who had participated in the battle had decided to see what lay beyond, and they had invited Melchior’s old friends Sariel and Artemis to go with them. Edward noticed that for once the two creatures weren’t fighting with each other, but wore huge smiles, glad to be included once more among the ranks of their Guardian peers. Although they had fallen, they had earned their redemption at last. Edward knew that he never would have succeeded without the help they had offered both him and his father.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, the crowd of people started to thin. Edward watched as two of Cornelius’s big, blue snails slowly advanced up the bridge, following the last of the stragglers.

Neither Edward nor Bridgette spoke as the last few people ascended the bridge. Some of them shot curious glances back at Edward, wondering why the Bridge Builder himself wasn’t going with them. Edward smiled and waved, insisting that they go on without him.

The sky turned crimson as the sun set behind the mountains. Edward didn’t look, but he could tell Bridgette had started to cry. Faith, faith. Have faith . . .

He repeated the words over and over again in his mind. Too many times before, when all hope was gone and everything seemed lost, he had given up. If he hadn’t learned by now to have faith, then he’d learned nothing at all.

Just as he was about to ask his mother to go on without him, there was the sound of small footsteps running up behind him. Edward turned and saw Tollers, red-faced and puffing, coming up the hill.

Tollers pointed his tiny finger at Bridgette. “Word . . . just came . . . from Earth,” he said, his voice punctuated by gasps. “Bridgette’s been released! She’s now an official resident.”

Bridgette felt something the moment Tollers said the words. It was as if heavy chains deep inside her had fallen away, leaving her with a new sense of freedom. She felt more alive, more real than she’d ever been.

She looked up at Edward, too stunned to speak. He gazed down at her, his eyes twinkling with happiness. Then, with a whoop of joy, Edward gathered her into his arms.

Silhouetted against a sea of glittering stars, Edward, Bridgette, and Sarah approached the bridge. Edward spread his long, ebony wings, stretching them protectively around the people he loved most in the world. As his feet touched the bridge and he began his long walk to the heavens, he felt joy like he’d never known before. Edward knew there was still work to be done, but for now he was at peace.