Copyright © 2018-2024 The Orbital Defense Corps, LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including the use of information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the copyright owner. Cover design, internal design, maps, illustrations, and “Nachton Hand” fonts all original to this publication and ©2018-2024 The Orbital Defense Corps, LLC. All copyrights apply to all formats of this work, including print, digital, and audiobook versions, unless otherwise specified. This is the second edition of Overtwixt: Welcome to the World of Bridges, originally published as a single volume. This edition has been revised, expanded, and divided into two parts, with new chapters and additional narrative elements, maps, and illustrations. The original edition continues to be protected under the copyright of The Orbital Defense Corps, LLC. The Orbital Defense Corps™, the concentric descending “O” imprint, OVERTWIXT™, the stylized Overtwixt text design, and the stylized R.L. Akers text design are all trademarks and service marks of The Orbital Defense Corps, LLC. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, institutions, establishments, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any references to real locations, institutions, establishments, or persons are coincidental, historical, and/or fictionalized to provide a sense of reality and authenticity. Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid, without the knowledge of the author or publisher. The author and publisher claim no rights in, and expressly disclaim any liability potentially arising from, the accessing and/or use of any referenced websites. Neither the author nor the publisher guarantees, approves, or endorses the information, products, and/or services available on such websites, nor does any reference to any website indicate any association with, or endorsement by, the author or publisher. The author asserts his moral right to be identified as the creator of this work and to prevent any unauthorized modifications that may damage the integrity of the work. The author and publisher have made every effort to ensure the accuracy of the information presented in this book. However, they assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions, nor for any consequences arising from the use of this information. First Printing, November 2024
ISBN-13: 979-8-9918223-0-5
table of contents Map Dedication Author’s Note
iii xi xii
Prologue Part I: Questions Part II: Quests Part III: Quarries & Quarrels Epilogue
3 13 91
259
Glossary
271
Intro to Ancient Languages
283
Reference Book Acknowledgments About the Fonts About the Author About the Illustrator
155
For Ian, Sadie, Emme, and Nate... my own personal Knight, Princess, Empress, and—yes—Loremaster
Author’s Note The main characters of this story were inspired by my four children (as they were more than five years ago now!). As such, these four characters reflect some of the traits I love best in my kids: their enthusiasm and wonder, their abilities and interests, their loyalty to one another. As in all good stories, however, the heroes of Overtwixt suffer from character flaws. If they didn’t, there would be no opportunity for character development and growth, and that makes for a boring story! While it’s also true that real people suffer from character flaws too, the flaws in my main characters are not necessarily the same as my children experience. Rather, they reflect the sorts of struggles common among young men and women their age. Therefore, as you embark upon this journey with Nachton, Amélie, Cécilie, and Ewan—and as you occasionally see them at their worst—don’t wonder too much what this story reveals about my children; it’s not meant to showcase anything but the best in them. Instead, ask yourself whether you identify with these fictional characters... and whether you yourself face the same opportunities for development and growth. Welcome to Overtwixt! I hope your visit is meaningful!
prologue
T
he Baron slumped on his throne, burying his face in his hands. He was a grandfatherly man, a good ruler, wellloved by most of his followers. How had it ever come to this? Even as he asked himself that question, he knew the answer. While his intentions had always been good, he had not always been wise. “I’m only the Baron... I was never meant to be a king,” he muttered. “What was that, your majesty?” a strong voice called, echoing across the vast marble floor of the audience chamber. It was the Captain who spoke, the leader of the Baron’s honor guard. He and his three soldiers were stationed at the tall doors on the far side of the room from the throne. “Nothing, Captain,” the Baron said wearily. He took a deep breath and pondered his next move. Then he spoke. “You and your men are dismissed.” The Captain half-knelt, inclining his human head in a kind of bow. “I will keep a man posted in the hall throughout
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the night. The rest of us will be in our chambers, in case you need us. You will remain protected at all times, my lord Baron.” The Baron offered his most loyal servant a sad smile. “You misunderstand me, Captain. You are not merely dismissed for the night.” He hesitated. “You are dismissed for good.” The Captain stiffened. The Baron sighed. “I mean you no insult, my old friend. Quite the opposite, in fact. You have served me well for many years, and I would like to see you rewarded for that. Therefore... I dismiss you, and all your men, from my service. Go home to your people.” “But... my lord Baron. You know what the Vizier* is planning.” The Baron squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, I do. And brave though you are, my friend, your presence at my side will make little difference in that fight. It is far too late to change the outcome, I fear.” He sighed. “Please, grant me this one final happiness, knowing that you are safe.” The Captain’s face clenched, but he slowly nodded. “Thank you,” the Baron said, letting out his breath. “Besides, I have another task for you. I need you to pass the word on your way out of the city—quietly. I’m ordering the evacuation of all who remain loyal.” “I will see it done.” The Captain straightened to his full height, as did his soldiers behind him. “It has been the greatest honor of my life serving you, my lord Baron.” “Go in peace, my old friend.”
* Pronounced viz-ZEER. Find other pronunciation clues in the Glossary of Persons, Places, and Things that starts on page 271.
A 5
And with a clatter of hooves on the marble floor, the four guardsmen departed. The Baron was alone. Well, mostly alone. “You mean to go through with it, then?” a raspy female voice called from somewhere high above, its owner hidden among the rafters of the grand, vaulted ceiling. “I do,” the Baron responded. “And do you remember your part?” “Of course,” the voice responded. She did not speak to the Baron with the same respect as the Captain, for that was not the way of her people. But actions were more important than words. The Baron knew she would do the right thing. “Get in and get out while I have everyone distracted,” the Baron said, repeating the instructions he had given her earlier. “Keep going no matter what. Don’t look back. Once you’re away, hide those awful things where they’ll never be found, and speak of them to no one.” “And destroy his research while I’m at it, so he can’t simply make more of them,” the raspy voice added. “Yes, I know what I must do.” “Very well.” The Baron waited an hour, enough time for the Captain and his men to flee Capital City, but not enough time—he hoped—for word of the evacuation to reach the Vizier. Then, with a feeling of dread, the Baron rose to his feet and strode out of the audience chamber. The Vizier’s tower was located on the far side of Capital City’s huge capitol building, and it was almost as big as the Baron’s own throne room. Unlike the throne room, however, the Vizier’s chambers were full of servants and lackeys. A miserable, horse-faced creature strummed a musical instrument in one corner, while the Vizier’s followers made fun of him.
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“Summon your master,” the Baron ordered one of the lackeys. He offered the musician a sad smile, then stepped to a nearby stained-glass window. Turning the iron latch, he pushed open the window to let in the cool night air. Then he stood there, leaning on the stone window sill, looking out at the night sky as he awaited the man who was supposedly his advisor. Someone approached—a human, judging by the sound of his booted feet on stone. The Baron turned... and sure enough, there he stood: the Vizier. The only other human remaining in all of Overtwixt, apart from the Baron himself. The Vizier had a looming, sinister presence. As always, he dressed entirely in black, a high-collared cloak draping from his shoulders to trail along the floor behind him. The color of a person’s clothes meant little, of course, but why had the Baron never seen the evil in this man’s heart before now? Back when the Vizier first arrived, he had quickly become a trusted advisor to all five rulers of this realm, not just the Baron; slowly but surely, however, the Vizier had worked to unite these lands into a single kingdom ruled by the Baron alone. Now, the Vizier was plotting to steal the throne for himself. Most likely, that had been his plan all along. The Baron had been manipulated from the start. Well, it was time to return the favor, at least this once. Striding away from the open window, the Baron spoke forcefully before the Vizier had a chance to get in the first word. “I’ve come for a report.” “A report, my lord Baron?” the Vizier asked lazily, raising one eyebrow. “Yes. I’ve heard disturbing rumors,” the Baron explained, frowning. “What exactly have you been doing these last few weeks?”
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“Why, my lord Baron,” the Vizier said with a mocking smile, “everything I do is for the good of the United Lands.” This drew quiet laughter from the Vizier’s lackeys. Ugly laughter. The music faltered, and the room plunged into silence. Moving suddenly, without warning, the Baron bolted for one of the doorways that lined the Vizier’s main chamber—the entrance to the Vizier’s laboratory. He moved so quickly that no one tried to stop him until he was already through the door. Inside, he found a long, silvery table lined with bubbling chemicals and wicked-looking tools. Behind that table, giving off a sick green glow as they hung from pegs in the wall, were the terrible inventions the Vizier had spent so many years perfecting: his collection of amulets. The rumors were true, then. If only the Baron had found out sooner. Someone coughed, and the Baron’s attention was drawn to a small figure tied by straps to a chair in the corner of the room. What was this? One of the Vizier’s victims was here right now? Dashing over, the Baron began unfastening the straps that held the creature in place—another of the little people that lived in this realm, like the musician outside. “My lord Baron?” the child-sized person asked in confusion. He was clearly terrified, his cheeks wet with tears. “Run when you have the chance,” the Baron whispered. “You’ll know when.” “How dare you!” the Vizier thundered as he entered the laboratory. The Baron finished with the last strap before turning around. “How dare I?” He began striding toward the younger, taller human. “What have you done to this poor creature?”
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The Vizier spared a glance for the little figure the Baron had just rescued. “I was helping him,” he lied smoothly. “He complained of headaches, and as you know, I’m a master of—” “Enough lies!” the Baron shouted. Uncertain, the Vizier backed out of the laboratory as the Baron continued marching toward him. Soon, both humans were back in the larger chamber with everyone else. “I know all about the things you’ve done in my name,” the Baron hissed. “The people you exiled, the others you imprisoned or forced into work crews. Your mining projects and your sick experiments...” He shook his head, disgusted. “And the bridges—it was you that destroyed them.” The Vizier straightened, and the expression on his face became ugly. He was done pretending. “Seize him,” he ordered his lackeys, pointing at the Baron. “You would dare to lay a hand on me?” the Baron cried indignantly, though he wasn’t really surprised. The dark creatures who served the Vizier began closing in on him, reaching for him with taloned fingers. “I will not suffer your bumbling any longer,” the Vizier sneered. “You were always a fool. Now you’ve proven it, coming here tonight without guards or allies.” In answer, the Baron drew a magnificent Great-Sword from the sheath at his waist. For one impossibly long moment, everyone froze, staring in wonder at the glittering diamond blade; it actually glowed with a soft blue light. “Now!” the Baron cried, then began swinging the Sword at the dark creatures who were about to harm him. With all eyes on the Baron, the little person he’d rescued was able to escape through the exit, the musician following after him quickly. And no one else but the Baron glimpsed the flutter of wings through the open window behind the Vizier.
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Grinning tightly, knowing his plan had succeeded, the Baron focused his full attention on the fight. With a dignified shout, he drove his Sword into the chest of a huge dragon-like beast coming at him from behind. There was a puff of yellow smoke, and the creature disappeared. Whirling, the Baron swung at two others, missing one, but catching a gray-furred man across one of his leathery wings. That creature puffed into smoke as well, banished from Overtwixt by the Baron’s blade. And then the Vizier was there, moving to block the Baron’s Great-Sword with his own elegant saber. It shouldn’t have worked. The Baron’s diamond blade was supposedly capable of cutting through anything when wielded for the greater good—but it bounced right off the Vizier’s saber in a small explosion of green sparks. “Surprised?” the Vizier sneered. “Perhaps yesterday, I would have been.” The Baron didn’t have a chance to say more, for the Vizier kicked him then, launching into a dizzying counterattack. The duel raged back and forth across the stone floor of the Vizier’s tower, the villain’s dark minions diving out of the way now that their master had entered the fight personally. The two humans hurled insults as they swung their swords, and each scored small cuts on the other’s clothing. But as the Baron told the Captain earlier, the outcome of this fight was never in doubt. The two magical blades were both powerful, but the Vizier was far more skilled wielding his. All too late, the Baron recognized a crucial truth: this matter never should have come to a fight at all. If only he had chosen a different Relic all those years before, he would have been quicker to see the Vizier for what he was. But the Baron had foregone Wisdom in favor of the Sword... and now his time in Overtwixt would be cut short by a sword.
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Stepping into the Baron’s very next attack, the Vizier used his saber to block a Sword thrust, then grabbed and twisted the Baron’s wrist with his free hand. The Baron yelped and dropped his magnificent Diamond Sword. Within moments, he was being forced to his knees, dark creatures standing on either side to hold him in place. The Vizier wiped a single trickle of sweat from his forehead and flicked it aside. He sheathed his saber before picking up the Baron’s fallen Sword, inspecting it briefly, then shoving it through a loop in his own belt. The diamond blade’s blue glow slowly faded. “Now... what was I saying?” he asked the Baron with a cocky smile. “Ah, yes. You’re a fool.” His eyes shined victoriously as he stared down at the Baron. “But I am grateful to you—for all you’ve done over the years to advance my plans, and for your actions tonight. By delivering yourself into my hands, you’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.” The Baron shook his head. “I was a fool,” he agreed. “But no longer.” The Vizier stroked the pointy black beard on his chin, studying his captive for a moment. Then he looked up, over the Baron’s head. “You,” he ordered one of his minions. “Fetch me a blank.” “Yes, my lord!” the creature cried, scurrying toward the laboratory. The Vizier turned back to the Baron. “You mentioned my experiments. Well, before I eject you from my new empire, I think it only fitting that you be allowed to experience the harvesting process for yourself.” He smiled. “From you... I will take your ability to inspire loyalty in others. It’s the only worthwhile attribute you have, sadly.” “My lord Vizier!” the minion cried, returning to the room. “They’re... they’re gone!”
A 11 “What’s gone?” the Vizier replied in annoyance.
“Your amulets—the blanks and the infused ones. They’re gone, all of them!” “What?!” the Vizier roared. The Baron began to laugh quietly. “I believe you’ll find your notebooks destroyed as well—everything you need to create new amulets, gone.” The Baron felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “This much, at least, I can do for the people of Overtwixt.” “But how?” the Vizier demanded. Then he whirled suddenly, looking straight at the open stained-glass window. He spun to face the Baron again. “Who’s the fool now?” the Baron asked quietly. “All of you, out!” the Vizier shouted furiously. “Take to the skies. Chase down the traitor responsible for this disaster. Bring me back those amulets!” The various dark creatures moved to obey, flooding toward the open window, but the Vizier caught one of the dragon-like beasts by his huge arm. “Not you. You will fly to Huland. Destroy the final bridge.” “But what about this one?” the beast asked, indicating the Baron. “Fear not. His story will come to an end long before you get there,” the Vizier assured his minion. “Now go, and waste no time. Close the portal as soon as you arrive. Do this thing, and I will make you supreme commander over all my forces— I will name you Warlord.” The hulking, dragon-like creature smiled, revealing pointy teeth. “Yes, my master.” And then he was squeezing through the window to fly after all the others. When he was gone, no one remained but the two humans and the lackeys who held the Baron’s arms.
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The Vizier turned back to the Baron, angry. “You think you’ve accomplished something here? One final act of heroism and sacrifice?” he spat. “This is just a temporary setback. I’m only annoyed that I cannot harvest your ability before you go.” The Baron smiled sadly. “For all your intelligence, that’s the one thing you’ve never understood. We are more than our raw skills and abilities. We’re defined by the choices we make, the way we use the talents we’ve been given.” The Vizier swept his cloak behind himself, freeing his sword arm and drawing his saber again. He raised the elegant blade high. The Baron shook his head. “Even if you stole my leadership ability for yourself, you could never use it to its greatest potential. Because there is no love in your heart— only evil.” The Vizier ignored his words, smiling wickedly. “Enjoy being nobody again,” he spat, then swung his blade in one smooth sweep. The Baron lowered his balding head, an expression of peace and acceptance on his face as the sword struck him. In an instant, he was transported back where he came from all those decades before, leaving nothing behind except a small cloud of yellow smoke.
Part I
Questions
The Children and their Guide
one
C
écilie Ollivaros held on for dear life, afraid she might lose her balance and fall— which would be very embarrassing. She and her family were deep below the airport in Atlanta, Georgia, riding the underground train that carried travelers rapidly from one terminal to another. It was not a very smooth ride. Not for an 8-year-old, at least. As she waited for the tense ride to end, she tried to distract herself by watching the people on the train around her. The nearest ones were all members of Cécilie’s family:* Mom and Daddy, who seemed almost as nervous as she was, but probably because the family was late for its plane flight; her older brother Nachton, who had his nose in a book like always; her older sister Amélie, who was peering just as intently at the screen of her cell
* Find pronunciation clues in the Glossary on page 271. The names of the Ollivaros kids are pronounced: 1. NAWK-tuhn (Nachton) 2. AWM-uh-lee (Amélie) 3. SESS-ill-lee (Cécilie) 4. YOO-wun (Ewan)
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phone; and finally, Cécilie’s younger brother Ewan, who caught her looking and smiled back instantly. Ewan was only 5, but as soon as he realized he had an audience, he cried, “Watch dis, Sessy!” Ripping his hand free of Mom’s, he began stumbling toward Cécilie, pretending like he was walking on a balance beam at the playground— even though the train was bouncing and swaying. Cécilie giggled at his antics, but Daddy yelled at Ewan to “come back and hold Mommy’s hand!” Then Daddy got upset at Cécilie just for laughing! On the other side of Mom and Daddy was a family they didn’t know, a mother and father with just one child, a girl around Cécilie’s age. Cécilie wondered what it was like to be that girl. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and she didn’t have to share her parents with three siblings. Cécilie supposed she didn’t mind sharing; she loved her brothers and sister, even if they made her angry sometimes. But she would die to have blue eyes like that blonde girl. Sighing, Cécilie turned the other direction and saw another girl, this one taller and older. She looked totally different from the first, with chocolate-colored skin and elaborate braids in her hair. This girl’s eyes were almost green—no, what was the word for that color? Hazel. And she didn’t have a single freckle on that beautiful skin... “Cécilie!” Amélie hissed. “Stop staring!” Cécilie stuck out her tongue. Even Amélie was beautiful, though she had the same straight brown hair and brown eyes as Cécilie. Cécilie’s looks were just boring. And this ride was taking forever. So Cécilie decided to pass the time by making jokes. At least she thought they were funny, even if they were meant to embarrass Nachton and Amélie, just a little. But her siblings ignored her, as usual,
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and she got in trouble with Daddy again. Then the whole family accused her of being a drama queen! Cécilie folded her arms and huffed. When Mom and Daddy finally finished lecturing her, Daddy tried to get everyone else’s attention. “Listen up, kids. We’re late for our next flight, so we’ll need to run. As soon as the tram stops, we’ll go straight out that door and up the escalator, then run all the way to Gate 3. You got it?” Cécilie looked at her older brother and sister, but they were ignoring Daddy just like they ignored her, still focused on their book and phone. “Cécilie!” Daddy said, “are you listening?” She opened her mouth, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Of course she was listening. “This is important, Cécilie. I need you to listen when I talk. We cannot be late for this flight!” Cécilie bit her lip to keep it from trembling. This was so unfair. She was the only kid who was listening. Nachton and Amélie certainly weren’t, and Ewan’s attention span didn’t last longer than five words. She didn’t get a chance to say any of this, however, because that’s when the train slowed to a stop and the door slid open. “Okay, let’s go!” Daddy cried. All six members of the Ollivaros family dashed from the train. Daddy took hold of Cécilie’s hand as they began running up the escalator, and that made her feel a little
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better. It seemed like he was usually disappointed with her, for one reason or another, but Cécilie knew he loved her very much. Then they reached the top of the escalator, and she didn’t have time to do more thinking. They began to run hard, and even Nachton and Amélie focused on running instead of books or phones. They passed airplane gates on both the left and the right, and Cécilie counted down the numbers as they ran: Gate 18... Gate 16... Gate 15... The even-numbered gates were on their right, the odd-numbered on their left. There was Gate 14, and... wow. They had to go all the way to Gate 3? “I don’t think I can make it!” Cécilie gasped. “Go on without me!” “C’mon, Cécilie, keep up!” Daddy said. He was practically dragging her along. “You’re slowing us down!” “Yeah, Cécilie,” Nachton added. “You don’t wanna get left behind.” He smiled at her in that way she didn’t like, as if he was about to make fun of her. “If you’re left behind, you’ll probably be kidnapped—” “Nachton!” Daddy said angrily. “What?” Nachton asked innocently. “It’s true! They keep making announcements over the speakers. There are two kids missing in the airport, one of them since this morning, and I bet they got kidnap—” “You’re not helping, Nachton.” Nachton made a face, but of course no one saw it but Cécilie. “Just a little bit farther, princess,” Daddy told her. So she gritted her teeth and tried to run faster. Gates 12 and 11... Gate 10... the Ollivaros family was getting there. Daddy released Cécilie’s hand, and they all just focused on their running and breathing. Gate 7, Gate 6...
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Cécilie saw it! Gate 3—all the way at the very end of the terminal, near the back left corner. Why did it have to be at the very end? There was an airline employee standing at the doorway to Gate 3, a man with a beard, wearing a blue uniform. Cécilie knew from their last flight that this was the person who would look at their tickets and decide whether they were allowed to get on the plane. As Cécilie’s family got closer, the bearded gate agent noticed them running in his direction, and he smiled. He began waving urgently, and Cécilie put on a final burst of speed, grabbing Ewan’s hand and running on ahead of the family with all her remaining strength. The man in the uniform waved them through the open doorway, and Cécilie slowed to a fast walk as she entered a narrow hallway, breathing hard. The plane should be at the other end of this corridor, but she didn’t want to slow down too much. Cécilie had learned that these hallways, which were called “jet bridges,” were actually capable of moving— on wheels. If her family didn’t keep going, she was afraid the jet bridge would be rolled away from the plane and they would miss their flight after all. Cécilie turned a corner and almost ran into a redheaded boy a little older than Amélie. He looked dizzy, walking unsteadily towards her with one hand on the wall. Cécilie pulled Ewan out of the way and stepped around the boy... but Amélie didn’t notice him in time. Amélie’s eyes were already glued to her phone screen again, and she walked right into the red-headed boy. They both yelled in surprise and fell to the floor—even as Nachton came around the corner, his attention already on his book again. He tripped and landed on top of the boy and Amélie. Their backpacks, book, and phone went flying in every direction.