Olmar’s eyes went wide at the sight until he caught himself staring and looked away in shame.
The owl hooted again—almost insistently. He frowned and searched the shadows beyond the fire’s glow. At first, he saw nothing, but Larina’s harsh whisper directed his gaze to the trunk of a large pine.
“Over here, Lunkhead,” she seemed to be indicating something with an outstretched hand.
What was she doing? Waving?
He waved back.
Judging by the disgusted look on her face, that wasn’t the appropriate response. She shook her pretty head.
Even as perturbed as she appeared, just the sight of her made his heart flutter. He smiled. He’d just gotten it to settle down.
Larina stepped closer, the flickering flames lit up her piercing eyes as she rolled them skyward and said through gritted teeth, “Well, are you coming to join me, or what?”
He tilted his head sideways.
Join her? For what?
He shrugged his shoulders to ask her what she meant.
She glared at him. “To catch a troll, what else?”
To catch a troll? He searched the area behind her, worried, until it dawned on him she was being sarcastic.
He couldn’t help thinking she looked pretty with a scowl on her face. And then it hit him. He blushed. She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant.
Could she?
He swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. His heart threatened to pound its way out of his chest. A cold sweat broke across his brow.
“Well?” she demanded.
Olmar looked around. Rook and Alhena had their heads together while Pollard and Sadyra were oblivious to the world.
He rose hesitantly to his feet, not trusting himself to speak. A great smile lifted his pudgy cheeks but he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to go to Larina or run the other way.
Larina’s scowl softened to a demure smile. She held a hand out, wrapped her delicate fingers around two of his own, and gently pulled him away from the fire’s light and into the heather beyond.
Olmar’s heart nearly stopped when his foot snapped a large branch on the ground. He glanced at the others but they hadn’t noticed.
He swallowed again. The taunts he’d received over and over throughout his lifetime reverberated through his skull, making him believe this couldn’t be actually happening. Who could love an oaf like him?
Larina wrapped her slender arms around his massive forearm and rubbed her face against his clammy flesh.
The rest of the night passed in a blur.
When the sun came up, Larina was nestled contently in the crook of his arm softly snoring, a warm smile on her face.
He never slept a wink, nor was he tired. As long as he held her, sleep was the farthest thing from his mind. It would kill him to miss even one heartbeat of her tender touch.
He was deathly afraid that if he fell asleep, he’d wake to discover it had only been a dream.
Sadyra and Larina walked together, their heads so close, Olmar thought they must be knocking together as they giggled and carried on at the rear of the procession. Every time he looked back to see what they were whispering about, they caught sight of him and giggled even more.
He didn’t think his cheeks were capable of reddening any further but they felt like they were on fire.
Pollard walked beside him, alert and ready for any danger on the thin, mountain trail. The man had obviously done this coupling thing before.
To Olmar, the memory dominated his every thought. If he never experienced it again, he was content to have been loved at least one night. Despite the mountain heights, he didn’t feel the cold.
An icy wind blasted them from over the peak on their left and whistled into the depths falling away on their right. The snow clinging to the mountains shone brightly in the early afternoon sun, doing little to drive away the chill seeping into everyone else’s bones.
They took turns walking beside Alhena, sharing the scant warmth his staff offered. Rook resumed his usual place on Alhena’s right as the often-precarious trail rose over a hump and rounded a sharp bend to the left.
Everyone stopped to stare, even Olmar—his reverie interrupted by the breathtaking sight.
Swaying in the face of the relentless winds, a derelict rope and wooden catwalk stretched away from a pile of rocks, shooting out over a drop of incredible proportions. The bridge span nearest them dropped toward the centre of the gap between four separate mountain peaks where it rose again to connect to a central platform. From there, two more spans led away; one straight east, while the other bridge deck led to the northern summit.
As wondrous as the sight was, Olmar couldn’t take his eyes off the southern end of the central platform. A length of bridge had broken away from the southern peak. The ragged remains swirled freely below the platform. How it hadn’t dragged the rest of the rickety structure down with it, he had no idea.
Rook raised his voice above the wind. “We’ll cross one at a time. When you reach the central platform, take the northern span. That way lies Madrigail Bay and The Forke. We have a long way to travel through these mountains so let’s not tarry here, enjoying the view of the fourteen-thousand-foot drop.”
Olmar felt faint. Even though Rook and Alhena had spoken of Treacher’s Gorge many times in the last couple of days, their stories had done little to prepare him for the reality. He gaped at the sight. There was no way. He’d rather crawl back through the Crypt.
Sadyra and Larina skipped by the group and disappeared behind the rock formation housing the westerly bridge entrance.
Pollard, Rook and Alhena walked carefully across the last thin stretch of trail and slipped out of sight, but Olmar couldn’t convince his legs to move another step.
Pollard leaned out from behind the rock enclosure. “You coming?”
Olmar shook his head rapidly.
Pollard looked on the verge of saying something, but didn’t. Instead, he crossed the narrow ledge like it wasn’t there and stood in front of Olmar. “Come on. I’m not big on heights either but we have no choice. We’ll go together, you and I.”
Olmar’s gaze drifted to where the bridge appeared from behind the rock formation over the gap. He caught his breath and shook his head.
“Take a moment. I’ll wait for you at the entrance.” Pollard crossed back over the thin stretch, quickly disappearing from view.
Olmar had already forgotten about his giant friend—his attention solely on the bridge.
He gasped at the sight of Larina bounding carelessly across the rickety span, her light weight barely influencing the structure’s sagging deck. Catlike, she hurried out over Treacher’s Gorge.
Halfway across the western span she stopped and looked his way. She yelled something but the wind stole her words away. She skipped to the central platform and turned to face everyone, jumping up and down with her hands in the air.
Olmar winced with every jump. What a silly woman. He’d have to talk with her when…when what? There was no way he was crossing that. He was content to sit and grow old before he took another step.
Larina stopped jumping and started along the northern section, her tiny form getting smaller with every step.
A movement caught Olmar’s eye from the eastern end of the span. It was so far away that he wasn’t sure he saw anything at all.
He tried to locate Larina again and almost choked when he couldn’t. He stared at the northern span, unable to breathe, but then he saw movement along the bottom of the northern span’s sag where she had vanished behind the bow in the bridge decking.
He hazarded a quick breath before it caught in his throat again.
There! His eyes bulged. A steady stream of creatures entered the eastern section of the structure. He couldn’t tell what they were but they appeared big. All he could think of was Larina crossing the northern span oblivious to the threat.
He crossed the narrow ledge in two great strides and rounded the rock pile securing this end of the br
idge. He realized why the others hadn’t responded to the danger. From this vantage point, the eastern span was virtually invisible.
The group jumped with surprise as he burst by and charged onto the bridge. “Rina’s in trouble! Creatures be enterin’ from the east.”
The bridge deck bucked under his weight and he almost went down. He grabbed onto the rope railing hawsers and righted himself, his bowed legs eating up the span in great chunks.
He bellowed, “Rina! Rina! Watch yourself, lassie!” But it was no use. She would never hear him in the wind.
The bridge deck tightened under his feet—his companions had joined the chase.
As fast as he reached the central platform, several of Helleden’s minions had gotten there before him and dozens more were coming hard. He roared at the sight of two demons scrambling along the northern span after Larina.
His attention was drawn to the red demons confronting him on the platform. Almost as large as himself, they came at him, jabbing their huge tridents.
Olmar pulled his warhammer over his shoulder and smashed the closest trident to the deck. The force knocked the weapon from the horned demon’s hands and cracked a plank. Olmar stepped inside the next trident bearer’s reach and grabbed the weapon near its head, holding it at bay.
He never stopped his forward progress, smashing his forehead into the slavering beast’s nose. Staggering backward, the demon didn’t see Olmar’s warhammer fly up to smash it under the chin.
Bone cracked and blood spurted in Olmar’s face but he never lost focus. The second demon fell back into a third who was forced to struggle with the sudden weight thrown at it. Together they stumbled on the moving platform, lost their balance, and toppled over the low handrail.
Olmar’s fist drove into the side of the first demon’s head as it spun around to intercept him.
Not waiting to see the damage he inflicted, Olmar swung his warhammer out wide.
Two demons entering the platform jumped clear of the mighty swing.
Olmar stepped forward under the pull of the flailing hammerhead, using its momentum to keep the rotation going. Big and clumsy in everyday life, Olmar was a killing machine on the battlefield. Larina’s danger only served to heighten his brutality.
He directed the spinning hammer upward, catching the closest demon under the ribcage—shattering bone as it lifted the creature off the ground.
The next demon stepped around its brethren, reaching out with clawed hands. Olmar’s dagger appeared in his dominant hand, driving it through the demon’s exposed neck as he ran beyond the dying creature and entered the sagging expanse of the northern span. “Rina!”
Larina was halfway up the northern slope of the bridge. She turned—whether due to his warning or because she heard the commotion behind her, Olmar didn’t care. If she could hold her pursuers off until he reached them, he’d smash them.
Larina dropped to a knee, grabbed her bow with one hand and an arrow with the other in one fluid movement. Her first arrow missed but the second one, released before its predecessor was lost to view, pierced the lead demon’s chest. The creature howled and fell to the bridge deck before rolling off the edge, clutching at the offending arrow.
The sound of battle behind him meant the others had reached the platform.
The remaining demon chasing Larina dropped to all fours to avoid her next arrow. The missile impacted the downward sloping bridge deck in front of Olmar and skipped away. The beast bounded forward, just as fast as it had while upright.
Larina reloaded as it closed on her.
Olmar watched in horror. The demon scampered to one side of the bridge deck, clinging to the surface like a spider as it moved.
Larina’s arrow soared into the abyss and the demon leapt for her. She threw up her hands to fend it off but its bulk was too much for her thin arms to repel.
“Nooo!” Olmar thundered.
A plank broke beneath his foot. He tripped but kept his feet moving, his awkward forward-sideways gait helping him remain stable.
The creature bucked and howled on top of the bridge deck. Olmar feared Larina was being torn apart in front of his eyes, but as he fell on the beast and stabbed at its head, he heard Larina groan from beneath the pile.
“Get off, Lunkhead. You’re flattening me.”
Dazed, Olmar grasped the handrails to keep from pitching over the edge and got to his knees. He watched in utter amazement as Larina pushed the deadweight off her and saw it fall away.
His heart caught in his throat. Blood stained her clothes and covered her exposed skin. He nearly swooned.
She glanced at her palms, a throwing knife clutched firmly in each hand. Panting hard, trying to gain control of her breathing, Larina said, “Pfft. Tis the creature’s blood, you silly lug.”
Olmar’s thoughts cleared. He looked back. A stream of demons entered the eastern span between a bare tree and a jagged stump. Pollard had his hands full keeping the creatures off of platform, while Alhena, Rook and Sadyra blasted and shot at the demons taking up positions on the bridge to throw spears at the giant.
Olmar ran back to the platform to give Pollard some much-needed assistance.
Larina assumed a spot close to the platform’s northern entrance and picked away at the demons trying to join those battling Olmar and Pollard.
“We need to get off the bridge!” Rook’s voice rose above the din of guttural grunts, moans and clashing weapons. He ran over to Larina with Sadyra and Alhena on his heels. “Give them cover and then follow. I’ll bring up the rear.”
Larina nodded, her attention on the eastern span.
Rook ran up to Olmar and Pollard. “We can’t keep this up! Pull back. We’re running out of arrows and Alhena can’t be effective without bringing the bridge down. Disengage!”
Rook fell back to the northern entrance and helped Larina clear the area around Pollard and Olmar. When the closest of the demons were felled, Pollard and Olmar fled onto the northern span.
Olmar looked to the east. A steady line of the detestable creatures were still swarming the bridge. Even if his group made it to the other side, the battle wouldn’t be over. Given the number of creatures coming after them, sooner or later, they would be overrun in the mountains beyond. Trying to keep his footing, he absently wondered if Helleden had sent the entire minion horde after them.
He reached the far end of the bridge and helped Pollard stumble to safety. Alhena joined them soon afterward, followed by Larina and Sadyra.
“What’s ‘e doin’?” Olmar asked between laboured breaths. Everyone followed his gaze.
Rook had been following close behind Sadyra but for some reason he now knelt in the middle of the northern span, his bow slung over his shoulder and a dagger in hand.
Olmar’s eyes widened as it dawned on him what the former leader of the Group of Five was up to. In the face of hundreds of screaming demons charging across Treacher’s Gorge, Rook feverishly cut away at the handrail hawsers.
“Why’s ‘e doin’ it there?” Olmar wondered aloud, then shouted, “Rook! No! Do it ‘ere. Gets yourself up ‘ere!”
Pollard pointed. “He can’t. He’s injured.”
Olmar saw it now. A javelin protruded from Rook’s thigh, its cumbersome length preventing him from moving across the bridge without getting caught up in the numerous rope newels strung between the handrails and the ropes supporting the bridge deck.
“Olmar, no!” Larina shrieked.
Olmar charged onto the bridge, leaving his warhammer on the ground. Larina tried to go after him but Pollard lifted her off the ground kicking and screaming.
The eastern handrail frayed and severed beneath Rook’s blade. He struggled to maintain his place on the bridge as the tension released. He pulled himself to the opposite side of the narrow deck and went at the second rail.
Demons ran along the northern span, closing on him.
His dagger made quick work of the western rail. Again, he almost pitched into the abyss. Catching himself, he w
asted no time cutting into the thick hawser running beneath the western edge of the deck boards.
The rope shredded and released. The entire structure bucked. Several demons on both spans were flung from the failing structure.
Olmar fell to his face, his feet sliding over the edge. He grabbed at the decking but his sausage-like fingers were too thick to slide between the planks.
The weight of his hips dragged him out over the abyss. He flailed his arms around, desperately trying to grasp anything. In his panic, he had the sinking sensation he would never hold Larina again.
The demons were almost on Rook. Another spear impacted the deck board immediately in front of him and then one struck him in the left shoulder. He cried out in pain. The impact forcing him to flail his free hand behind him to keep from falling backward.
Catching himself, he leaned forward and furiously sawed at the second deck rope; the boards around him slanted at a perilous angle. The agile demons closest to him discarded their tridents, dropped to all fours, and scrambled along the intact edge of the bridge.
Olmar’s hands closed on a handrail hawser, his entire bulk hanging from the side of the bridge. Alhena and Rook had mentioned that fourteen thousand feet separated the bridge from the valley below. Fourteen thousand feet of nothingness. At least he’d have time to reminisce one last time about the previous night—his mind strangely calm in the face of his inevitable demise. A luckier man there never was, he thought, smiling at his good fortune to have finally been loved.
The chaos on the bridge was but a distant collage of screams separating his beloved from the growling hunger of the demons scrabbling toward Rook.
Dangling over the gorge, Olmar’s misted eyes concentrated on the bowman, willing him to hurry. Rina’s fate depended on it. “Come on Rook. Ye can do it. I knows ya can.”
The first demon leapt at Rook’s bowed head just as the bridge lurched and the last hawser released.
It seemed to Olmar like he hung suspended for an eternity as the reality of what was happening set in. Almost in slow motion, the bridge dropped away, filling him with a bizarre sense of weightlessness.
Soul Forge Saga Box Set Page 91
