Windmaster's Bane (37 page)

“We’ve no choice, the way I see it,” was David’s choked reply. “And, besides, we can’t go back. Those shell-things may still be back there, or others like them.”

Fear had begun to coil in the pit of David’s stomach as the dark places of his mind began to creep open. He couldn’t do it. He
knew
he couldn’t; the bridge was too steep, too narrow,
too high!
His hidden fear, the one thing he had never revealed even to Alec, was upon him: the terror of bridges. High places were fine, for he could wander around the ledges on Lookout Rock completely fearless. But being high up and
unsupported,
with nothing but empty space below him—that set his gut to writhing and his balls to seeking sanctuary inside his body. Unfortunately, he knew he had no choice.

And the bridge itself, so insubstantial it was barely there—surely it would not support his weight. David reached cautiously down and snagged the staff, fearing that the whole span would collapse at the slightest touch, or that the faint traceries that defined it would wink out.

Neither thing happened. What disconcerted him, though, was the way he could feel the whole structure tremble at that most delicate of touches.
Would
it support his weight? Would it support
any
of their weights?

For a moment neither of them spoke. None of them dared admit what they knew they must.

Finally Alec broke the silence. “All right, so who’s first?” David drew a ragged breath, his face pale as death. “Me, of course.”

“Not necessarily, David,” said Liz behind him.

David whirled around. “What do you mean?”

“I was thinking,” she said. “Something you don’t seem to be doing.”

David opened his mouth to say something scathing—he was so tense, so scared—but Liz cut him off.

“No, David, let me finish. Be rational. This is a
really
shaky bridge. It might not bear our weight.”

“Which is why I should go first,” David shot back. “I’m heaviest; if it’ll hold me, it’ll hold you.”

“Which is why the
lightest
should go first,” Liz continued. “Meaning me.
One
of us has to get through. If the heaviest goes first, and it breaks, none of us will make it. If the lightest goes first, there’s a greater chance somebody’ll get through. Remember the conditions: As long as one of us succeeds, the Trial will be a success.”

“But it has to be David’s decision,” Alec pointed out.

“Right. So David can decide. But I’ve told him what I think.” David had scarcely heard the argument. Either way, first or last, it meant walking—crawling, really—across that frightful gulf. That was what he most feared.

“David.” Alec’s voice was sharp.

“Oh, right.” David’s forehead furrowed, and he paced the narrow ledge. Fearless now; but only a few feet beyond he knew he would be quaking jelly.

“I don’t like either option, but you’re right, Liz: Lightest should go first. That’s my decision…. Liz, you
are
lightest, right?”

“That’s what I just said, David.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be sure.”

“I weigh a hundred and seven pounds, David.”

“I was just being sure, Liz.”

She shook her head suspiciously.

“And you, Master McLean?”

“One-twenty-eight.”

“Davy?”

“One-thirty-five.”

Liz raised an eyebrow. “But Alec’s taller.”

“Only by three inches, and I’m more muscular.”

Alec glared at him.

“Okay, okay, this is not the time to play macho-man.”

“Right,” David said decisively. “Okay, Liz, take off. I’d suggest hands and knees.”

“Next time remind me to bring a rope,” Alec muttered.

“Next time I will,” David replied archly.

Liz approached the juncture of bridge and ledge cautiously, set one foot tentatively upon the sparkling surface—and felt it tremble in response to that contact. Her breath caught. “I don’t know if any of us can make it, David.”

“One of us has to. Otherwise the Trial will end. And there has to be a possibility of victory.”

“Okay, but none of you start until I get across.
All the way across
.”

Liz knelt on all fours and braced her staff crossways between her two hands. She slid one hand onto the narrow span before her, then the other.

One knee. Two.

The bridge shook. Both David and Alec could see the glimmer scintillate.

One foot. Five feet. Ten. Twenty.

Liz was halfway across.

“Oh no,” she called just as she reached the apex. “It’s downhill now, and that’s going to be even harder.” She flattened herself onto her stomach and scooted, her elbows and knees hooked around the angled edges. The staff she kept crossways in front of her, forcing it downward against the substance of the bridge in hope that whatever small bit of extra friction was thus generated would help slow her descent. It worked for several feet, but halfway down the far slope she began to slide. One foot slipped sideways into air. She screamed and ground the staff into the bridge even more forcefully, which slowed her enough for her to right herself. The last third was more falling than sliding, and then she found herself lying facedown on the ledge on the other side.

“You
okay
?”
shrieked a terrified David.

Liz stood up and dusted herself off. “Scrapes and bruises. Watch out for the downslope, it’s slick as glass.”

David rolled his eyes in despair.

Grimly Alec lowered himself onto all fours and eased onto the span. He’d had foresight to take his shoes and socks off, figuring the extra grip that would provide might come in useful, especially as he’d left the staff with David and wouldn’t have it to use for balance.

Disgusting,
thought David, when he saw the ease with which Alec accomplished the crossing. This time there was no slipping.

“What’re you waiting on?” cried Alec when he had reached the other side. “It’s easy. Easy as falling off
a…”
He clapped a hand on his mouth.

“A log?” David called back, trying to mask his fear with levity. But it was no use; he was petrified. Never in his life had anything so completely unnerved him as the prospect of crossing that hundred-foot arch. A glance over the edge of the cliff showed him nothing but blackness: no bottom,
nothing.
Suppose there
was
no bottom, suppose it just went on forever. He could imagine that, imagine fear knotting his whole body more and more tightly into itself until he simply winked out of existence in this universe and popped out again somewhere else, and kept on falling…“Come on, David!”

Finally he said it. “I’m scared!”

“Scared?
You
?”
Alec called back. “I’ve seen you scale ledges higher than this up on Lookout with scarcely a thought.”

“But I knew where the bottom was, and I had solid ground under my feet.”

“David!”

“I’ve never told anybody this, Alec. Bridges scare me. Haven’t you ever noticed how I always speed up on bridges?”

He could see Alec’s mouth drop open as realization dawned upon him.

“You’ve
got
to cross, David!”

“Okay, okay! Just give me a minute.”

“Come
now,
David!
Now,
or you’ll never do it.”

“I think the bridge is fading!” Liz cried in such genuine alarm that David could detect it even across the gulf between them. A part of his mind wondered at the uncanny ease with which he had been able to hear across the distance.

“It is!” Alec cried.

“Now, David! Now!
”

David stared at the bridge. It
was
becoming more transparent. Darkness showed through the near end.

“David, behind you!” Alec’s voice carried shrill across the distance.

David spun around.

An armored head three feet wide thrust through the undergrowth a scant ten yards behind him.

“Now, David. Now!”

The creature advanced. Slowly. Methodically. Its eyes never left David. Moonlight glittered on the pearlescent whorls painted on its shell.

“David!”

David glanced back at the bridge, then at the creature.

It took a step.

For no logical reason he could think of he faced it, crouching warily before it, the make-do spear ready in one hand.

Another step. Eyes never leaving its quarry.

“No! This ends now!” David cried suddenly, and then hurled the spear at the beast.

It struck in the flaccid, grainy hide at the juncture of neck and carapace, and remained there, bobbing up and down. The merest puncture it looked, yet thick, evil-smelling blood welled out below the shaft. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled the air as the wrinkled skin around the wound began to blacken and curl away. The creature reared onto its stubby hind legs and screamed, a cry that tortured the silence like a dull sword thrust slowly into rusty metal.

David stood in frozen awe.

The creature collapsed back onto front feet which could no longer support it. No trace of light showed in its eyes. Its fellows began lumbering toward it.

David rushed forward and seized the spear, wrenching it from the surprisingly yielding flesh. The stench was nearly overpowering.

And then he ran.

All at once he was on the bridge.

It gave beneath his weight. He thought he felt one knee slip through. But he was moving, that was the important thing; crab-crawling his way across like the others, staff pushed before him. He could feel the substance slick beneath the heels of his palms, against his chest. Close before his eyes was a complexity of slowly moving lights defining the surface, glowing lines connecting the major nexi. But even as he looked, even as he scooted forward and up, the lights began to pale. Whole lines winked out. More and more space showed between.

Somehow he was in the middle. Downhill was a slide; he had seen that, but his nerve was frozen. He could not go forward, and he could not go back, for there was no back. Ahead, fifty feet, David could see the eager, expectant faces of his friends. But he dared not relinquish control. And to make matters worse, his grip was slipping, and not straight ahead, either, the sharp angles that marked the shoulders of the span were rounding. The cross-section was becoming circular! And David could feel himself slipping sideways.

“David!”

“Loosen up! Let go! Slide!”

He closed his eyes, loosened his grip imperceptibly, gave himself the gentlest of forward nudges with his
feet…

An instant later he felt Alec’s arms around him, pulling him to safety. Nothing had ever felt so warm, so welcoming, so solid before.

“You made it, old man.” Alec grinned.

David sank to the ground, shuddering uncontrollably. “I did, didn’t I?” His breath was coming fast, and he flung himself backward, chest heaving, staring up at the distant, star-studded sky.

A face swung into view above him, neither Alec nor Liz; a face half masked by an intricate helm.

“You have passed the Trial of Courage,” said the Lord of the Trial, “not by defeating the Watcher or crossing the bridge, but by allowing your friends to precede you, knowing they might have to complete your quest alone—and trusting them enough to believe they would. It takes courage to put one’s fate in another’s hands.”

David sat up and glanced back at the bridge, and was not surprised to see that it had vanished completely. Where it had abutted on the other side two shell-creatures were now feasting on the flesh of their fellow. A chill shook him, then another.

“What were those things?” he gasped.

“Watchers? Guardians? Keepers, perhaps?” the Lord replied cryptically. “By iron alone may they be slain. You are at the fringe of Tir-Nan-Og itself now; there is no further need for them to shadow you. Your last Trial will be of another sort entirely. It awaits you through the arch.”

Alec laid an arm across David’s shoulders and pointed to the ground beneath them, at the golden glitter of the Straight Track. It was brighter, brighter than it had ever been.

Behind them the Lord of the Trial was no longer to be seen.

“Two down,” Alec panted.

“And one to go: the Trial of Strength, I would guess.”

“Quicker begun, quicker ended,” Liz sighed.

“Right,” David sighed in turn, as he heaved himself up. “So, onward, children—onward and into the breach.”

The trilithon gate rose before them, and then they were under it. Ahead stretched an arching passage in the wood. It was dark, but from where they stood they could already see light at the far end.

By some unspoken agreement they began to run.

An instant later they burst out into the blazing sunlight of a grassy glade possibly five acres in extent. Ahead, looming above even the highest of the trees on the far side, David could for the first time make out the shape that had haunted his dream: the impossibly slender cone of the surrogate Bloody Bald. He could not reckon the distance, for though the mountain appeared tiny, he seemed able to make out the smallest detail of the faceted, sharp-buttressed towers and pearly walls, the gold-laced pinnacles and high-arched windows, and the riotously tumbling gardens and ominous forests that enwrapped it.