THE BRIDGE TO THE DAY BEFORE
The journey continued. There were no more visions, no more wraiths, though Karigan could feel them waiting for an opening, waiting for her. It was disturbing enough that she did not allow herself to doze even a little bit despite her exhaustion and the endless monotony of the terrain.
“Ah ha!”
Duncan so startled her she jumped. “What the hells?”
“Bridges ahead.”
Karigan squinted. They were mere dots on the horizon, but even at a walk, the bridges grew larger and closer in disproportionate leaps. She’d be very glad to leave the white world and its abstract unreality.
There were three identical stone bridges, simple single spans with no ornamental flourishes but for the abutment walls scrolling out to rounded end posts. Karigan hoped they would not have to explore what lay across each of them.
Duncan vanished from behind her and reappeared to stand on the ground before them. “I remember.”
“So, which one is it?” Connly asked.
“Patience, Captain, give me a moment. I remember this configuration of bridges, but not which one.”
Karigan could tell Connly struggled with himself, that his patience and that of the others had just about expired. There was an edginess to their demeanors that indicated they were barely holding themselves together. She could relate.
“My lady, Karigan,” Duncan said, “let us start with the middle.”
Once more Karigan dismounted and handed Connly Loon’s reins. She joined Duncan at the middle bridge, and without prompting, headed across with her hand to the hilt of her sword, only hesitating for that passage through the mist at the center of the arch.
On the other side she was greeted by daylight and the roar of water that rushed down a steep slope and pounded into cottage-sized boulders. The mist it raised moistened her face, and she traced the course of the torrent with her gaze to where it fanned out far below, parting and twining through swaths of rocky debris until it eventually emptied into a lake bordered by a meadow and forest. The trees of the forest, even from her distant vantage, appeared to be giants with expansive crowns that concealed all beneath their eaves.
She pulled her attention back to what lay immediately in front of her, for she and Duncan were not alone. Arrayed before them were numerous Eletian warriors in their pearlescent armor, who stood upon flat boulders, their bows bent and all their arrows aimed at her. The water frothed and gyred around them creating a scene of perilous beauty as the play of sun and spray cast the arc of a rainbow behind them.
A single swift arrow carved through the air. Its white feather brushed her cheek as it sang by her. She forced herself to calm, stood her ground even as every fiber of her being urged her to run, for she knew the warning for what it was. These archers were too good to miss.
She released the hilt of her sword and raised her hands so that they could see she intended no harm. They did not waver. Beside her, Duncan placed his hands on his hips. It occurred to her that even his beauty was diminished by that of Eletians. No mortal could rival them in this regard, except possibly Queen Estora.
“Well, how about that,” he said, “the Alluvium of the Elt Wood.” Another arrow, its tip flaring in the sun, ripped right through his chest, with no damage, of course, and clattered onto the deck of the bridge behind him. “That was not very hospitable,” he said with a sniff.
The Alluvium was the seat of power of the Eletians, and indeed, a familiar figure stood beyond the archers in long emerald and blue flowing robes. He swept past them, leaping gracefully from one rock to another, until he reached the foot of the bridge. He approached no closer, however.
“Greetings, Galadheon,” the crown prince of Eletia said, clearly heard over the tumult of the current, though he did not raise his voice. Sunlight glanced off droplets caught in his long gold hair as though it were adorned with diamonds. No other crown did he need.
She bowed. “Prince Jametari.”
“You do know such trespass upon the Alluvium merits death, do you not?”
“I did not, though I know non-Eletians are not welcome in the Elt Wood.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“It is my doing,” Duncan said. “We have been trying to find the right bridge to the Wing Song range. I have not traveled the Blanding in a very long time, and so I forget which bridge is which.”
“I would ask how a great mage came to guide a Green Rider in the anethna,” Prince Jametari said, “but that sounds a long story and there is much else that concerns me at present.” He gazed hard at Karigan. “The law says you must be executed for your trespass.”
She thought all she needed to do was back one step into the white world and its dubious safety, but the Eletian archers were too keen. She hadn’t a chance.
“It was an accident,” Duncan insisted.
Prince Jametari raised a hand to silence him, his gaze never leaving Karigan. “It is not your first trespass into Eletia, is it,” he said.
“No.” She had saved the Sleepers of Argenthyne, had brought them through time to Eletia by a different bridge, to deliver them from the encroachment of Blackveil Forest. When she’d crossed, she encountered the prince’s father, King Santanara.
There was the hint of a smile on the prince’s lips. With a minute gesture, the archers released the tension on their bows and lowered them as one.
“It would be inappropriate,” he said, “to slay she who saved so many of our kin from Argenthyne, she who was favored by Laurelyn, she who is favored by our ally, the king of Sacoridia.”
Karigan’s cheeks warmed a little at the last, but she found that now she could breathe much easier.
“It is well,” he said, “that I was here at your arrival and not some other. They would not have hesitated.”
She did not doubt his words. “Your folk are fortunate that Eletians do not encounter the same harsh laws in Sacoridia.”
“Sacoridia is not Eletia.”
The heat of anger crept up her neck. Eletians carried themselves as superior beings. It was true they were eternally lived and outshone any mortal being, but that didn’t make them better in the ways that counted. She pursed her lips so as not to say anything imprudent that would cause the archers to reconsider skewering her with arrows. From the corner of her eye, she observed Duncan watching her with apprehension. He was probably more concerned about the contents of the pouch she bore than her should the Eletians decide to kill her.
Then she released a breath. “You are correct. Sacoridia is not Eletia. My king would not have sent an individual on a mission who was a danger to his fellow travelers. You had to have known Enver was near his unfolding and that he—” She waved her arm, unable to go on. The unfolding, as she understood it, was when an Eletian came into sexual maturity and needed to mate. He should not have been sent out into the world unaccompanied by other Eletians so close to his time. His feelings for her had only increased the danger to her, for as she’d seen, the unfolding consumed him, and if not for his own inner strength to resist his need, his nature, she likely would have ended up his unwilling partner.
Prince Jametari simply gazed at her with a subtle smile as though she were talking about a garden party.
“Why would you put us—Enver and me—in that position?” she demanded. “Of what benefit would it have been to Eletia?”
He cocked his head as he gazed at her, the cascades roaring behind him filling in for his silence. Finally he said, “I have no knowledge of it.”
She almost laughed at the absurdity of his answer. He’d had no knowledge of what? Enver’s unfolding? That he’d been on a mission with her without the support of other Eletians?
“If any of my folk have behaved in an untoward manner or served you poorly,” he said, “I apologize.”
He was not, she thought, at all apologetic, but it was hard to tell for certain, for Eletians were fey and could not be read in the same way another Sacoridian could be. What she did know was that Eletians played a long game, they with their eternal lives.
“During the mission, Enver saved my life, and during the unfolding, he—he controlled himself to give me time to escape.”
He nodded as if she told him things he already knew. The desire to push him off his boulder into the swift current came over her, but death by dozens of white arrows did not seem worth it.
“I am pleased,” he said, “that our tiendan served you well. Actually, you are a source of intrigue to my folk, Karigan Galadheon, as well as frustration. We do not know what you will do next, which is hard for a far-seeing race to accept. What is the term your folk would use? A ‘wild card’? And so we take an interest. After all, your actions may be a great asset in the dark times that now threaten, or not. There is one thing I have foreseen, and that was your arrival here on this day.”
Of course he had. And if he had such pressing business, why not begin with this rather than playing games and making her fear for her life by threatening execution? Eletians.
“This is the day before your present,” Prince Jametari said, “so you are slightly off-time here. You should cross the bridge that is to your right hand as you leave this one. It will deliver you to the mountains and the correct time. I have a feeling, depending on which paths you take, we will see you here again. It seems we cannot do without you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured with a slight bow. She hastily backed into the mist before he could say more. It was not the first time she’d heard those words from an Eletian: We cannot do without you. Since she’d become a Green Rider, the Eletians had regarded her with curiosity, and some with animosity. One had tried to kill her. And yet, they’d called upon her to seek out the p’ehdrose with Enver. She would never understand, and the politics within Eletia would remain a mystery.
Duncan made a low whistle as they reentered the white world. “There is a lot more to you,” he told her, “than I guessed. Not everyone would have held their own against Jametari.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Back in the white world, she and Duncan told Connly and the others where they’d been.
“I would give my firstborn to see Eletia,” Brandall said.
“I would not recommend it,” Duncan said. “They’d put an arrow through you on sight. They did me, but fortunately they can’t hurt me that way.”
“Why didn’t they put an arrow through Karigan?” Harry asked.
“They’re used to me.” It was the best response she could think of.
She and Duncan then crossed the bridge Prince Jametari indicated would lead to the mountains. Sure enough, when they reached the far side, they found the mountains draped in night and that the stars appeared in the same position as when they’d left Oxbridge Square.
“We made good time despite being delayed by the whisper wraiths,” Duncan said. “I’d say only a few minutes have passed.”
It could still be, Karigan thought, too late.
Rubble clattered underfoot when she shifted her weight, and she realized she was walking on the remains of a human-made structure, maybe a foundation to some building, and not a natural pile of stone rubble. Duncan watched as she turned over a small block with the toe of her boot.
“Used to be an order of great mages who kept a hall here,” he said, “no doubt to retain easy access to the bridge and the Blanding. Must have been razed during the Scourge. Nothing left of them but this.”
It was the first she’d seen him sad. He’d existed, in one form or another, for so long without his own people. She could not imagine it.
“Best get the others across,” she told him. “They will be happy to be out of the white world, and we need to find the colonel.”
From the white world side of the bridge, Karigan watched as Connly led the Riders across the bridge and vanished on the other side. Some moved faster than others, and she couldn’t blame them. She tried to maintain her own patience until it was her turn at the end of the line. Loon practically danced beneath her, knowing that a green world lay on the other side. Mallard swished his tail as he carried Hoff through the mist at the arch.
When only a few remained, she began to feel an itch on the back of her neck. She turned Loon around. There on the plane stood a lone figure in white that almost blended entirely into the background—not Nyssa, not a cadaver, but an almost mirror likeness of herself, brown hair, familiar features. The lengths of her gown flowed in an unearthly breeze.
“Mother?” she whispered. Was this a cruel vision of the white world, or . . . ?
“Karigan?” Tegan said.
Kari, the figure said, my daughter.
Karigan nudged Loon forward. He balked, but she pressed him. “Mother? Is it really you?”
The figure emanated love and peace. I left you too soon and for that I am so sorry. I am so proud of you, of the woman you have become.
Loon tossed his head when she urged him forward. She needed to get closer, to see if it was truly her mother.
“What’s she doing?” she heard Elgin ask.
I love you, the figure of her mother said. Know that I always will.
“Karigan?” Tegan repeated.
“The wraiths appear to be after her again,” Duncan said. “Don’t listen to anything they tell you, dear lady. It’s a trap.”
Her mother retreated. When Loon wouldn’t follow, Karigan jammed her heels into his sides. He half-reared.
“Mother!” she cried as the figure grew more distant.
I love you, my daughter.
Karigan fought with Loon to chase after the figure, but still he resisted.
“Karigan.” Tegan grabbed Loon’s reins. “Look at me.”
“My mother—”
“Look at me.”
She looked. Saw Tegan’s set, but worried, expression, the green of her uniform, her living flesh, the reality of her existence. When she glanced away, she saw that the figure of her mother was gone.
“I don’t know what you think you saw,” Duncan said, “but the wraiths were no doubt trying to lure you back.”
She allowed Tegan to lead Loon back to the bridge. Tegan made her go ahead of her right behind Elgin.
“That’s better,” Duncan said from behind her. “Remember what the Blanding does, the deceptions it sends you.”
Wraiths, deceptions, she wasn’t so sure. The warmth, the love the figure emanated, had felt so genuine, and had demanded nothing in return. Tears flowed down her cheeks as Loon passed through the mist at the center of the arch and into the real world.
Though unsure of what she had really seen in the Blanding, whether it had been some vestige of her mother or not, her tears soon dried in the verdant valley beneath the mountains for it was all real. She could smell the fresh green growing things, hear the rustle of leaves and small mammals, feel a fragrant breeze upon her face.
The horses rested and grazed while the Riders plotted. Constance had been sent forward to do some scouting near the hut where Karigan and the others had been held. When she returned, she reported it was still guarded by a handful of Raiders.
“It’s good news,” Connly told the others. “It means our people are still alive. We’ll enclose the Raiders in a snare. There are only half a dozen of them, but remember, these are the Darrow Raiders. Take no chances. To begin, we’ll need a distraction.”
“I have an idea,” Karigan said. She gazed at Duncan, who was inspecting his fingernails and not seeming to pay attention.
“What now?” he asked.
Karigan smiled.