Free Bridgebreaker (The Echo Worlds Book 2) by Joshua Cook

Marcus and he weren’t going to be friends from somewhat early on.  But this -- this had been way outside what Cendan had expected.  His bag was heavy in his hand; clothes, books, and a few other things stuffed inside it.  A month or so ago he’d have been pretty happy to have Marcus kick him out to his old house, to walk away.  That did seem like a lifetime ago; so much had happened to him since.
    Traveling to the Echo World; meeting Oakheart; his troubling deal with the Elves; talking Grellnot out of killing him; the resurrection of EVA; the death of Sal.  EVA.  His visit to her place in the lair had been far from helpful.  Her voice was still muted, even there.  Worse, he could tell she was trying to talk to him, or at least he got that feeling.  But something was stopping her, holding her back.  It was frustrating.  Marcus wouldn’t even let him tell him about it either.  He hated to leave her as well.  Marcus and Jasmine didn’t have a clue what to do with EVA, not even how to fix her if something went wrong.
    For that matter, he was still tweaking everything to make it work better.  The job to get EVA back ‘alive’ during the attack by the Slyph had been a rush job, and not the way Cendan had wanted it to be.  Maybe that was the issue with her; something he and Sal had fixed in a rush had partially given way again.  Marcus, however, wasn’t going to give him the time to even try to figure it out, and he didn’t have much time left.
    He’d grabbed a few books from the Maker Wing that he thought might be somewhat useful at least.  One on the creation of foci, another that appeared to be the notes of the Maker before Oakheart.  It was odd, but there always seemed to be only one Maker at a time.  Until the break with Oakheart, they followed each other like clockwork.  But then again, Oakheart hadn’t died; he’d been stuck in a tree, used as a conduit for Earth’s magic for the Slyph to use.
    At least he still had his focus on him.  He’d had it when they had worked on the map, and Marcus hadn’t mentioned it in his rant to kick him out.  Cendan had little doubt that if Marcus knew he had it on him, the demand for its return would be swift.  Fishing the Key out, Cendan felt its touch and warmth comfort him.  It was as much a part of him as the hand he held it in.  It was also loaded with raw knowledge from Oakheart, most of which he still couldn’t make sense of.
    Cendan still believed that the main reason for that was that Oakheart himself didn’t remember what he still knew or didn’t know.  Fifteen hundred years kept in the form of a tree would, and could, make you forget things, even important things.  He’d be mentally searching for information on, say, Bridges and why they looked different to each person.  He’d get a blast of information but it would have gaps, places where there was nothing.  ‘Mental whiteout’ Cendan muttered to himself.
    Clearing his mind of his musings, Cendan held up the focus and opened the portal to leave.  The translation felt odd this time to him, however; as if the connection was wobbling.  Just as quickly as it came, the translation was done, and he was once again at the bottom of the basement steps of the Red Orchid.
    Two things struck him at once: first off, it was later than he thought it was – the sky was starting to darken. And secondly, standing at the top of the steps was the witch, Heather.
    “Finally!  That Jasmine woman told me to leave and wait here.  I’ve been sitting here for nearly two hours!”  Heather hid none of her irritation.  It was only then her eyes lighted upon the bag he was holding and the cut on his face.  “So what happened?” was her only question, her tone considerably calmer.
    “Marcus happened,” Cendan answered.  “He wasn’t happy about doing anything with the map.  He blamed me for it, and in his anger, sucker punched me in the head and kicked me out.”
    Heather gave off a low