7 - Compilation

 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Lacuna asks.  “I don’t see anyone else around.”

“Big elm tree on Emmett Street across from the boarded up bed and breakfast,” Eris replies.

“Looks more like it’s under renovation than boarded up to me.  All that scaffolding and tarp.  And there are a lot of trees on this street.  We might have the wrong one.”  

Eris shrugs.  “Boarded up, renovating, close enough.  And this is the only elm on the street.  See those white flowers on all the others?  Those are dogwoods.  This old man,” she knocks on the broad trunk of the tree the two of them are waiting under, “sticks out like a fed at a hippie concert.”

Lacuna takes another look up and down the tree-lined street.  It did seem obvious now that her friend had pointed it out.

“Didn’t know you knew so much about trees.”

“I do have hobbies that don’t involve hitting things, you know.”

“I never said -”

Eris cuts off her stammering apology with a laugh.  “I’m just messing with you.  Lighten up.  First day on the job should be exciting.  And a little waiting around won’t hurt us.  We’ve got a nice shady spot and beautiful weather.”

Easy enough for Eris to say, generally at ease with meeting new people and dressed appropriately for the weather in tanktop and cargo shorts.  Lacuna’s neither of those things at the moment - or ever for the former - although she’s painfully aware that she only has herself to blame for showing up in this part of the country at this time of year wearing a heavy ankle-length skirt over thermal tights and her usual hoodie.  Even with the hoodie unzipped she’s already started to sweat just walking the block from the bridge out of Crossherd.  If anyone comments on it she’ll say she was expecting to be spending the day indoors with air conditioning.  Not that anyone ever comments on it, but that doesn’t stop her from running through hypothetical conversations in her head every time she goes out dressed too warmly.

“I guess it is a pretty street,” Lacuna concedes.

After several minutes of silent fidgeting and pacing while Eris leans against the tree Lacuna speaks up again.  “So, any idea who we’re supposed to be meeting?  Besides Road and Bridgewood I mean.”

“That would be me,” a voice from behind the tree answers, causing Lacuna to jump in surprise and Eris to take a quick step back with clenched fists.  A lithe woman in a flowing white dress steps into view with the air around her shimmering like a heat distortion for a moment before settling into clarity.  The sunlight filtering through the trees glints off pearlescent patterns on the mage’s shoulders and sleeves and catches subtle blue streaks in her long dark hair.  “Ashan Glassheart, at your service.  I do believe we shall be working together.”

“You in the habit of lurking around invisibly eavesdropping before introducing yourself?” Eris asks in a tone that Lacuna’s not quite sure what to make of.  Whatever it is, it’s not how she expected her friend to greet their new teammate.

“My apologies,” Glassheart replies.  “It was not my intention to spy.  It is just that I had arrived earlier than I meant to, and when you arrived it seemed prudent to verify who you were before leaving the ward I had set up to avoid undue attention whilst loitering.”

“Huh, I think that might be the first time I’ve heard a mage apologize,” Eris says, “and the last time I worked with one he lit my hair on fire.”

“Yes, that does seem to be an unfortunate trend with most of this world’s spellcasters.”

“You’re from off-world?”

“Technically no, but practically yes.  It is a long story.”

Eris relaxes.  “Well, I’m sure we’ll be having plenty of time to swap stories later.”  She steps toward the shorter woman and puts out a hand.  “Name’s Eris.  Sorry for the rude greeting.”

“My pleasure,” Glassheart says, shaking Eris’s hand.

“And that over there’s Lacuna,” Eris adds.

“Hi,” Lacuna says with a nervous wave after a moment’s delay of registering that she’s been addressed.  There’s a pang of embarrassment as she realizes she’d been staring.  Oh goddess, what she’d give to look like that. 

“Greetings,” Glassheart says.

“Well, that’s us,” Eris says.  “Don’t suppose you have any idea where Road and Sullivan are?”

“If I were to guess, I would say either in the building across from us or beyond this tree.  The anchoring is loose over there and this tree is a bridge.”

“Know how to activate it?”

“Not yet.”

Eris grins and rolls her shoulders.  “Well, there’s always the classic approach.”  She knocks on the tree again, this time hard enough to set the boughs above shaking and to set Lacuna taking a few reflexive steps back.  “Yo, Road!  We’re here!  Open up if you can hear us!”

No response.

“Does that normally work for you?” Glassheart asks.

Eris turns away from the newly debarked patch of trunk and puts her hands up in a shrug.  “No, but it’s pretty great the times it does.”

Just then, Lacuna’s phone starts beeping.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, looking down to fish the device out of her pocket.  “That’s my ‘if we’re not there yet, we’re late’ alarm.”  She taps the screen to stop the beeping and looks up to find herself alone on the sidewalk.

“Eris?” she calls out hesitantly.  “Glassheart?”

No response.

She walks around the tree, giving the trunk a wide berth, but sees no one.  Cautiously, she steps closer and reaches a trembling hand out to knock, only to pull back at the last moment.  Backing away from the elm once more while still keeping an eye on it, she dials Eris’s number on her phone.

No response.  Straight to voicemail.

She remembers she still has Road’s number.  Chides herself for not calling them when she and Eris first arrived.  Dials it.

“Hey Lacuna.  Eris and Ashan are fine.  Sullivan’s just being dramatic about the bridge.  He’ll be back over in a second to pull you over too.”

Right on cue with Road’s voice the tree trunk ripples and a face breaks through the surface.  It’s a very angular face; sharp cheekbones, pointed chin, even pointier beard.  And in the spaces between the angles slicked back hair, dark eyes, and a smile like a devil sealing a deal.

The rest of the stranger’s body follows as he steps out of the tree.  Embroidered yellow vest over a shirt with puffy sleeves.  Tailored pants.  Shiny shoes that look terrifyingly expensive.

“Lacuna, I presume,” he says.  It’s a statement, not a question.

Lacuna nods, still holding the phone to her ear and more than a little unnerved to suddenly be alone with a man dressed vaguely like a vampire who just stepped out of a tree.

“Sullivan Bridgewood,” he says with a flourishing bow, “at my service.”

“At your service?” Lacuna asks, questioning the odd turn of phrase.

“Sounds like you’ve met Sullivan,” Road says from the other end of the still-active phone call.  “It’s just a private joke of his.  I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Just a private joke of mine,” Bridgewood answers, “not anything you need worry about.”

“You’re a friend of mine, so you can trust him,” Road continues.  “Now, this bridge crossing can be a bit weird on communication devices so you’re going to want to hang up before going through.  I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Okay.  See you in a minute Road,” Lacuna says - emphasizing their name while looking at Bridgewood - before hanging up.  “So, how does this work?” 

Bridgewood extends a hand, palm up.  “Take my hand and I shall escort you as a guest into my home.  Or I grab you and yank you through like I did with the others.”  He chuckles and his smile that had been resting on the line between charming and unsettling tips toward the latter.  “As fun as that was, my friend didn’t much care for the jape and asked me to be gentle with you.  So a gentleman I shall be for the lady.”

Still a little creepy, but Lacuna trusts Road enough to put her paranoia aside and trust the man in front of her.  The fact that even after a few years of transitioning being called a “lady” is enough of a delightful novelty to cloud her judgment more than she’ll ever admit goes a ways toward putting her at ease as well.  And so she only hesitates a little when she takes Bridgewood’s hand and follows him into the tree.

The passage is a markedly different one from her experiences going in and out of Crossherd.  With all of those, one moment you’re in one place and the next everything’s subtly shifted and you’re someplace else.  Indeed, not noticing is often the trigger to activate those bridges.  By contrast, walking into the rippling trunk of the elm feels enough like walking into water that she reflexively closes her eyes, holds her breath, and pinches her nose with her free hand before it hits her face.  

To her surprise, the trip isn’t instantaneous.  The feeling of being submerged lasts long enough that her lungs begin to burn.  She forces herself to open her eyes but sees only darkness, not even her own outstretched hand that she can still feel Bridgewood holding.  Whatever she’s submerged in doesn’t sting her eyes like water would, but as she tries in vain to see anything she feels a sudden increase in pressure as if the fluid were alive and actively gripping her.  

Panic sets in and she begins to struggle, causing Bridgewood to tighten his grip on her hand.  She closes her eyes again.  Her held breath reaches its limit and she can no longer stop herself from gasping for air.  She can breathe.  The fluid does not rush into her lungs despite the feeling all over the exterior of her body.  Relief at not drowning is offset by a growing sense that she is being examined.  Assessed.  Judged.  Bridgewood’s grip tightens again, now painful.  The pressure around her lets up.

The sudden return to light and air blinds her momentarily.  Bridgewood lets go of her hand and she stumbles.  Falls forward.

“Lacuna!”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“Is she quite alright?”

“What, never been through a secure transit before?”

The voices all overlap so that she has trouble parsing the words being said.  She feels hands catch her and stop her fall.  Her vision clears and she looks up to see the same warm, reassuring smile that comforted her on a stormy night years ago.

“You good?” Road asks.

Lacuna blinks as her eyes finish adjusting.  She’s in a forest.  She notices Eris standing nearby with an arm out awkwardly.  Probably meant to grab her before Road beat her to it.  Lacuna takes a deep breath to slow her breathing and stop the shaking.  Shaking?  When did that start?  No, don’t focus on it.  Focus on not doing it.  Better yet, focus on anything else.  Take another breath.  Let it out.

“I’m good,” Lacuna answers.  Road lets go and she stands upright, turns, and looks at Bridgewood.  “What the heck was that?”

“Security system,” he answers casually, almost flippantly.  “Only residents and guests are allowed through.  As for anyone that forces open the entrance… Well, I was asked to be gentle so I’ll spare you the details of what would happen to them in transit.”

Lacuna tries not to shudder at the implication.  “So where are we now?” she asks.

“Welcome,” Bridgewood proclaims while throwing his arms wide, “to the Bridgewood Estate!”

Road chuckles softly nearby.  “And you accuse me of being a showoff.”

“What can I say, it’s been a long time since I had visitors.  Now come along everyone.  I’ll show you to the manor.”  With that he begins walking off without so much as a backwards glance to make sure the others are following.

As they all walk, Lacuna takes some comfort in the fact that with the way Eris and Glassheart are looking around she’s not the only one gawking in amazement for once.  It becomes obvious that the woods around her are more park than forest.  The paths and undergrowth are well-kept, the trees are all evenly spaced, and most have small signs in front of them bearing either a single number, an X, or a question mark.  Something else seems off about the trees too that Lacuna can’t quite place.

“Most of these trees shouldn’t be growing together,” Eris observes aloud.  “You’ve got a white pine next to a mahogany, I’m pretty sure I saw a baobab back there, and,” she points at a nearby tangle of above-ground roots, “somehow you’re growing a mangrove without a coastline.  I’m not going to ask how, because I know the answer is just going to be some magic BS, but why?  Even with magic that still has to be a Hell of an energy expenditure to maintain.”

To Lacuna’s surprise, it’s Glassheart that answers the question in an awe-tinged voice.  “They’re all bridges.”

“Right on the first try, wizard boy,” says Bridgewood.  “We are right now walking through the eponym to the family name.”

Wait, wizard boy?  But he’s so…  Lacuna glances again at Glassheart practically gliding down the path before shoving down the implications of this particular case of gender envy for the time being.  As it is, she’s already flustered enough to almost miss the ongoing conversation. 

“So you’re saying each of these trees is part of a pair like the one we came in from,” Eris confirms.

“Most of them,” Bridgewood clarifies.  “In some cases the other end of the bridge has been chopped down and made into something else and will spit you out into the biggest remaining piece.  So far I’ve wound up accidentally breaking and entering four times that way and found myself in a ship at the bottom of the ocean twice ”

“You say that like you don’t know where they all go,” Eris says.

“My dearly departed wife preferred to memorize family secrets instead of writing them down.  The signs are a recent addition.”

“Sullivan’s agreed to let us use the woods for transportation on quests,” Road chimes in, causing Bridgewood’s face to twitch on the last word.  “We’ll be going back through another one once we pick up some things from the house and I brief you on what it is we’re actually going to be doing.  And speaking of the house…”

As if on queue the group reaches the edge of the treeline, bringing a three-storied, multi-winged Victorian mansion into unobstructed view.  What look like cat-sized spiders skitter about, trimming hedges and washing windows.  As Bridgwood leads the party down the gravel pathway to the front door, the gazes of the marble statues they pass by follow them in a way that Lacuna can’t bring herself to believe is mere optical illusion.  As Bridgewood steps onto the front porch the double doors begin to swing inward, but not quickly enough to keep him from pushing them the rest of the way open by hand upon reaching the threshold.

The entrance foyer is dominated by a grand staircase leading to the upper levels whose balconies wrap back around to look down on the visitors.  Above the landing where the staircase splits and turns halfway to the next floor hangs a portrait of a woman in a blue dress of a style as antique as the house’s.  Her smile at the viewer is playful.  Playful in the same way that a cat is playful with a mouse.  Several closed doors line the walls on either side between the entrance and the staircase, although those seem a background detail compared to the small pile of black crates and out of place chairs in the center of the hall.

As Lacuna files in last in line she glances back over her shoulder at the sound of the doors creaking closed behind her.  They get about halfway shut on their own before getting stuck, causing a pair of those spider-like creatures - metal or maybe polished stone orbs with legs, she can see now that she’s up close - to scurry in from the shadows and push the doors closed the rest of the way.  Bridgewood’s voice pulls her attention back to the center of the room before she can watch where the constructs retreat to once their task is done.

“Welcome to my home.  Take a seat, because I don’t like any of you enough yet to give you the tour and we’ve got a job to get to.”  He drops sideways into a seat with his legs hanging over the armrest and gestures to Road.  “My friend, you take it from here.  I might be hosting, but this is your show.”

“Thank you Sullivan,” Road says while taking a seat next to him in the circle around the crates.  Lacuna finds herself sitting across from them, in between Eris and Glassheart.

“First off,” Road begins, “I want to thank the three of you for accepting my offer to be part of the founding party of this adventurers’ guild - ”

“We’re not calling it that,” Bridgewood interjects.

“ - and for showing up on short notice for this first quest.”

“Job,” Bridgewood amends.

“Mission?” Eris suggests.

Road shoots a look at Bridgewood who shrugs in response before continuing.  “I know I was sparse on the details of this mission when I called you in yesterday, but that was because Sullivan and I have been spending the past twenty four hours gathering those details and making the necessary preparations so that we could act once the five of us were assembled.”

“I presume these are the fruits of those preparations,” Glassheart says while gesturing to the crates.

“Partly, but I’ll get to that,” Road answers.  “Just after midnight yesterday morning an old friend of mine by the name of Lachlan Whelan whom I’ve helped before called me saying that he’d heard I was back in town and was hoping I could assist him again with an incident that had just occurred.  Among other things, Lachlan mans a lighthouse that overlooks a stretch of coast notorious in certain circles for being a seaborne crossover point with other worlds.  That night a ship appeared and immediately ran aground on what seems to be an island that appeared at roughly the same time.  Our job - our mission - is to go out to the ship and rescue any survivors.”

“A day and a half is a long time to wait for a situation like that,” Glassheart says.  “I am surprised you waited this long for us to arrive.  From what I have heard of your reputation I would have thought you would have rushed straight in by now.”

“I would have if I could have,” Road says, “but the water there’s rough at the best of times and there’s been a storm blowing for the past three days.  It’s taken me this long just to get my hands on a vessel that can make the short trip and be able to ferry who knows how many people back to shore safely.”

“Do we even know if there are any survivors?” Eris asks.

Road shakes their head.  “No.  Lachlan’s been keeping an eye on the ship since it showed up and he hasn’t seen any sign of movement.  But the storm has made it hard to observe and if there’s any chance that even one person’s alive and in need of help it’s a chance we have to take.”  Road pauses for a moment to look at the others and notices Lacuna shifting uncomfortably.  “Lacuna, do you have something to say?”

“Well, it’s just….”  She struggles to find the words.  “Okay, please don’t take this the wrong way because I want to help, I really do, but why us?  Surely there must be someone else already trained and equipped for this kind of thing, right?  Government or something?”

“There should be, but there isn’t,” Road says with a hint of annoyance.  Or is that anger?  Somehow the idea of Road being angry feels disconcertingly unnatural to Lacuna.  “At least, there isn’t any group like that Backstage who would be willing to intervene without an unconscionable amount of delays and red tape to get mobilized.  And, there are other complications.”

“By ‘notorious in certain circles’ they meant ‘the crossing mainly gets used by smugglers and refugees,’” Bridgewood clarifies.

“That may be,” Road says, “but that doesn’t make them any less people deserving of help.”

“So, we’ve got a boat shipwrecked on an island,” Eris says, “both of which crossed over from some other world at the same time, a storm making it hard to do anything, no idea if anyone’s actually alive to rescue or what might the ship might be carrying, our own boat, a bunch of boxes of what I assume are relief supplies and maybe a couple of magic trinkets to help us out, and a fifty-fifty chance that anyone who is alive might try to repay our kindness by trying to shoot us to keep their smuggling route quiet and steal our rescue boat.  Did I miss anything?  Local sea monsters that might try to eat us or drag us under?”

“Only that it’s cold up there, even at this time of year,”  Road says.  “I suggest taking one of the coats from the supplies once we get there.  I’ll admit, I wish I had more I could tell you all about the situation going in, but I think we’ve all been in more dangerous situations with less and gotten through alright.”  They stand up and look at each of their newly gathered companions in turn.  “So, are we all good to go?”

Lacuna quietly nods while Eris and Glassheart give their affirmations and rise to their feet in turn.  She doesn’t trust her own voice not to waver in the face of what she’s gotten herself into.  Bridgewood says something about a cart outside that she doesn’t really process until the others start picking up the boxes and carrying them to the door.  She belatedly moves to join in but feels a hand on her shoulder right as she’s about to bend down to lift the nearest box.

“Not so fast techie,” Bridgewood says and then spins her around to face him.  “I’ve got another job for you.”

“What?  Er, what kind of job?”

“One that you’re actually qualified for.”  He picks up a wide flat box that had been set to the side from the others and carries it over to a table against the wall where he pushes aside a vase to make room for the box with a marble-on-marble scraping sound that makes Lacuna’s skin crawl.  “Go ahead, open it,” he says.

Lacuna obeys.  “A laptop?”

“Not quite up to the specs you asked for, but it’s what I could acquire on short notice and will suffice for now.”  He produces a USB stick from some unseen pocket and hands it over.  “I’ve loaded this up with a list of tasks I want you to do, along with the installers and login info for the programs you’ll need.”

Lacuna looks from the USB stick in her hand to the laptop and back to the general direction of Bridgewood’s face.  “Thanks,” she stammers, trying not to let her relief show too obviously.

“Free advice: Just leave the heroics to those three,” he says and points a thumb over his shoulder.  “Focus on what you’re good at instead of trying to chase some fantasy that’s just going to make you into a liability for the rest of us to clean up after.  After all, someone needs to run the website and file the paperwork.”

“Website?”

“Oh, and while you’re here alone, don’t go wandering off or touching anything.  Especially not the statues.  This place is bigger on the inside and some of the security systems are a bit finicky about distinguishing between intruders and guests.  If you need the bathroom or something, just ask one of the cleaning golems and they’ll show you the way.  Follow them exactly and don’t stray.  I don’t want to have to explain whatever state we find your body in later.”  With that last bit of advice he turns around on one heel and jauntily walks toward the door, waving goodbye without looking back and passing Eris on the way.  “Have fun not drowning.”

Eris glances back over her shoulder at Bridgewood before stopping next to a suddenly far less relieved Lacuna.  “Hey, sis, you alright?  Do I need to have a talk with Sully over there?”

“No.  I mean yes.  I mean, fine.  I’m fine.  He was just telling me I’m going to be staying here and working on some IT stuff for him instead of going with you guys.”

“Oh, I can see how that would be a bummer.  But it’s also more of what you were hoping to do, right?”

“Yeah.  I guess it was.”  It’s not what she had been distressed about a moment ago, but now that it’s been pointed out she does feel unexpectedly disappointed.  What even was it she had been hoping to do here?

“Hey,” Eris says, getting her wandering attention again just before leaning in for a hug.  “You rock and you’re gonna be running this whole operation behind the scenes by the time this is all over.”

“E…”

“Alright, that’s the last of them!  Let’s roll!”  Road’s voice calls from outside.

Eris releases her grip and steps back.  “Gotta run.  See you when we get back.  Bye!”  She’s already out the door by the time she finishes, leaving Lacuna alone in the foyer.

“Stay safe,” Lacuna whispers too late for anyone to hear.