The Burning Bridge

19

T READING CAREFULLY, W ILL AND H ORACE MADE THEIR WAY across the narrow plank path that bridged the last fifteen meters of the Fissure. Will, with his excellent head for heights, could have run lightly across it without a problem. But he went slowly out of regard for his bigger, less nimble friend.

When they finally made it to the finished roadway, Horace heaved a sigh of relief. Now they took a moment to examine the structure. It was built with all the thoroughness that Celts were famous for. As a nation, they'd developed the art of tu

The smell of fresh-sawn pine planking filled the cold night air, and overlaid on that, there was another sweetish, aromatic smell. They looked at each other, puzzled, for a moment. Then Horace recognized it.

"Tar," he said, and they looked around to see that the massive rope cables and support ropes were thick with the stuff. Will touched a hand on one and it came away sticky.

"I guess it prevents the ropes from fraying and rotting," he said carefully, noticing that the main cables were constructed of three heavy ropes twisted and plaited together, then thickly coated with the tar to protect them. Also, as the tar hardened, it would bind the three together more permanently.

Horace glanced around. "No guards?" he commented. There was a disapproving note in his voice.

"They're either very confident or very careless," Will agreed.

It was full night now and the moon was yet to rise. Will moved toward the eastern bank of the Fissure. Loosening his sword in its scabbard, Horace followed him.

The figure by the tu

"He's still alive," Will whispered.

"Only just," Horace replied. He placed his forefinger to the Celt's neck to gauge the pulse there. At the touch, the man's eyes slowly opened and he gazed up at the two of them, uncomprehending.

"Who:you?" he managed to croak. Will unslung the water bottle from his shoulder and moistened the man's lips with a little of the liquid. The tongue moved greedily across the wetness and the man croaked again, trying to rise on one elbow.

"More."

Gently, Will stopped him from moving, and gave him a little more water.

"Rest easy, friend," he said softly. "We're not going to harm you."

It was obvious that somebody had done him harm-and plenty of it. His face was matted with the dried blood that had welled from a dozen whip cuts. His leather jerkin was shredded and torn, and his bare torso underneath showed signs of more whipping-recent and from long ago.

"Who are you?" Will asked softly.

"Glendyss," the man sighed, seeming to wonder at the sound of his own name. Then he coughed, a racking, rattling cough that shook his chest. Will and Horace exchanged sad glances. Glendyss didn't have long, they both realized.

"When did you come here?" Will asked the man, gently allowing more water to trickle through the dried, cracked lips.

"Months:" Glendyss replied in a voice they could barely hear. "Months and months I've been here:working on the tu

Again, the two boys looked at one another. Maybe the man's mind was wandering.

"Months?" Will pressed him. "But the Wargal attacks only started a month ago, surely?"

But Glendyss was shaking his head. He tried to speak, coughed and subsided, gathering his fading strength. Then he spoke, so softly that Will and Horace had to lean close to hear him.

"They took us almost a year ago:from all over. Secretly:a man here, two men there:fifty of us in all. Most of the others:dead:by now. Me soon." He stopped, gasping for breath again. The effort of speaking was almost too much for him. Will and Horace looked at each other, puzzling over this new information.

"How was it that nobody knew this was happening?" Horace asked his friend. "I mean, fifty people go missing and nobody says anything?"

But Will shook his head. "He said they took them from villages all over Celtica. So one or two men go missing-people might talk about it locally, but nobody could see the entire picture."

"Still," said Horace, "why do it? And why are they so open about it now?"

Will shrugged. "Maybe we'll get an idea on that if we take a look around," he said.

They hesitated uncertainly, not sure what they could do for the crumpled, battered form beside them. As they waited, the moon rose, soaring over the hills and flooding the bridge and the bank with soft, pale light. It touched on Glendyss's face and his eyes opened. Then he tried weakly to raise an arm to ward off the light. Gently, Will leaned forward to shield him.

"I'm dying," said the miner, with a sudden clarity and a sense of peace. Will hesitated, then answered simply.

"Yes." It would have been no kindness to lie to him, to try to cheer him along and protest that he would be all right. He was dying and they all knew it. Better to let him prepare, to let him face death with dignity and calm. The hand clutched feebly at Will's sleeve and he took it in his own, pressing it gently, letting the Celt feel the contact with another person.

"Don't let me die out here in the light."

Again, Horace and Will exchanged glances.

"I want the peace of the Out of Light," he continued softly, and Will suddenly understood.

"I guess Celts like the darkness. They spend most of their lives in tu

Horace leaned forward. "Glendyss?" he said. "Do you want us to carry you into the tu

The miner's head had swiveled to Horace as the boy spoke. Now he nodded, faintly. Just enough for them to make out the action.

"Please," he whispered. "Take me to the Out of Light."

Horace nodded to him, then slipped his arms under the Celt's shoulders and knees to lift him. Glendyss was small-boned and the weeks he had spent in captivity had obviously been a time of starvation for him. He was an easy burden for Horace to lift.

As the warrior apprentice stood straight with Glendyss cradled in his arms, Will motioned for him to wait. He sensed that once Glendyss was in the peace of the dark tu

"Glendyss," he said softly. "How long do we have?"

The miner looked at him wearily, uncomprehending. Will tried again.

"How long before they finish the bridge?" he asked. This time, he could see a light of understanding in the Celt's eyes. Glendyss thought for a second or two.

"Five days," he replied. "Maybe four. More workers came today:so maybe four."

Then his eyes closed, as if the effort had been too much. For a second, they thought he had died. But then his chest heaved with a massive shudder and he continued to breathe.

"Let's get him into the tu

They squeezed through the narrow opening. For the first ten meters, the walls of the tu

"Here's the answer," Will said. "Morgarath needed those first fifty miners to do this work. Now that the tu

Horace nodded. "You're right," he agreed. "The tu