hold the fucking moon down,” Slag insisted, perhaps thinking his workmanship was under question. He did as Malden asked, then handed the free end of the line to the thief.
“Look,” Malden said, “how this end of the bridge is so well supported.” He lay down on the basalt and peered underneath the bridge. A buttress of ornate stone scrollwork held it up. “Yet on the far side—it’s not as strong.” The buttress there was cunningly carved to look much the same as its brother, but a close inspection showed it was made of thinner beams and the scrollwork looked lighter and finer. “Mörget,” he said, “take hold of this line and pay it out as I instruct.”
The barbarian did as he was told. Malden crawled forward and lowered himself carefully over the edge of the crevasse. Just as he’d thought, he was unable to find handholds in the smooth rock, and could only hang from the rope like a sinker on a fishing line. As he dangled, one foot against the wall to keep himself from spinning, he looked up at the near buttress from underneath.
In his lantern light there were clear seams in the scrollwork.
Also just as he’d thought.
“Give me six more feet of line,” he called, and his body jerked as the barbarian let the rope slacken and he dropped another six feet into the fissure. He had a moment of panic as he heard the hemp rope creak, but it held his weight. “All right, that should be enough.”
He put both of his feet against the stone wall of the crevasse and bent his knees up to his chest. Then with one quick spring he pushed against the wall and swung out on the rope, toward the far side of the gap. His fingers splayed outward to try to grab the far buttress, but he missed entirely and swung back, barely catching himself against the near wall before he smashed his teeth out on the rock.
“Malden!” Cythera cried, her face popping over the edge so she could look down at him.
He smiled with all the bravado he could muster and gave her a cheery wave.
“All’s well,” he said. “I just misjudged the distance. Mörget, give me another three feet.”
The rope creaked again as Malden dropped deeper into the fissure. He braced his feet once more and pushed hard for another swing. This time he managed to grab onto the far side of the crevasse and haul himself up onto its rim before the rope swung back. “More rope,” he called, “and Slag, toss me a spike and your mallet.” Mörget paid out the line and Malden tied it off on the far side, yanking it tight so it stretched across the fissure like a bowstring. “Now,” he said, “everyone stand back.”
On the far side the others did as he said. Malden approached the bridge and tapped it with his toes. It held—he expected it to—but he made a point of not putting his full weight on it. He found his balance and struck it with his foot again, this time bringing his foot down as hard as he dared.
The bridge dropped under his blow, the whole span of it falling away as it swung down into the crevasse. The side of the bridge closest to Malden had been held up by only a weak latch, while the scrollwork buttress on the other side was in fact a massive hinge.
Malden looked down into the crevasse and saw swirling darkness below. Twenty, maybe thirty soldiers could have gotten onto the bridge before it fell, and all of them would have fallen to their deaths. They would have been the best knights the elves could muster, the vanguard of their army. The message would have been very clear.
Malden walked back across the crevasse on the tight rope he’d strung between the two spikes. Foot over foot, his arms held out at his sides for balance. He’d done it before a million times. He made a point of bowing toward Cythera before he leapt back to the safety of the basalt.
“The rest of you will have to go hand over hand, I’m afraid. A less dignified method to get across, but far safer,” he said.
They divided up the supplies into five knapsacks. Mörget took the largest share without complaint. Anything they couldn’t carry they left behind as a cache for later. That significantly increased their mobility, but still it took the better part of an hour to get everyone across, each