by Helen Gosney
Rowan tried not to laugh as the forty or so youngest dwarves nodded, wide-eyed and as solemn as owls. He remounted Ashen and led the way to the town walls, then followed them around to the river. It roared busily along nearly a hundred feet below them, and it’d surely cover any squeaks a young dwarf might inadvertently make.
“Well, here we are, everyone. Now, do you want me to take the loose ponies first, or…?”
“Whatever’s best for you, Rowan lad,” Finn said, “Would that be easier?”
Rowan shrugged.
“I truly don’t think it’ll make any difference, Finn. I just thought everyone could see it and maybe feel a bit more confident about it, that’s all,” he said.
“Mmm… ‘tis probably a good idea,” Finn nodded thoughtfully.
“Fine. Just hold on tightly to the ponies that’re staying behind though. They might think I want them as well. Oh, and we’d better have someone to keep an eye on those on the other side too. Dann, would you mind?”
“’Course not! I’ll come and be your horseboy,” Dann laughed and nudged his pony forward, “Lead on, lad!”
Rowan nodded and walked over to the riderless ponies and draught ponies that were now pack ponies. He patted them all and spoke quietly to them, then mounted Ashen, whistled softly, and set off. All the other ponies pricked their ears and wanted to follow him too, but forewarned as they were, the dwarves restrained them without problems. They watched in amazement as the surefooted ponies followed Rowan perfectly happily along the narrow strip of land that separated the walls of Gabonsbridge from the river’s chasm. Of course they’d known what would happen, but knowing it and seeing it were two very different things.
Rowan and Dann stopped beside the southern gate and Rowan scaled the wall again and left coins on the little table beside the tollkeeper’s post, in payment for their crossing. The thought of the man’s face when he found the money there in the morning had them both chuckling happily as they started to cross the bridge that’d been the unwitting cause of so much trouble for so long, but Rowan was abruptly serious as he dismounted again near the centre of the bridge.
Dann stared at him in astonishment.
“What the hell are you doing, you daft bugger?” he whispered, “We’re not here to admire the bloody scenery!”
“I know. I just want you to look at this and tell me if it says what I think it does…”
“What? What ARE you fraggin doing?”
“Shh… please, Dann, just do it. It’ll only take a moment,” Rowan said urgently, “Oh, and if it is what I think it is, please, please don’t say a word to the others just yet.”
Dann said nothing, but his face spoke volumes as he nodded in agreement, dismounted, and stepped over to look at the stone in the centre of the bridge that’d caught Rowan’s attention earlier in the day. His night vision was excellent and he didn’t need any help from Rowan’s shuttered lantern.
A sudden spate of quiet, virulent and extremely explicit blasphemy told Rowan that he’d been right.
“Language, Dann lad! Language! If the clan ladies hear you, you’re on your own,” he said, hoping to calm his friend a little.
“You know what this says, don’t you?”
Rowan nodded.
“Aye… well, I think I do, but I wanted to be certain.”
“Ha! You can read the bloody runes as well as I can!”
“Maybe…” Rowan sighed unhappily, “And what do you think would’ve happened if I’d told you and young Owen about it outside that gate today?”
Dann took a deep breath.
“Owen would have tried to kill the whole bloody lot of the bastards, and I’d have joined him.”
Rowan nodded slowly again.
“Aye, that’s what I thought, and ‘tis why I didn’t mention it…” he said.
Dann pulled himself together and took another deep breath.
He ran his fingers over the stone and said softly, “It says: ‘Master Mason Albanor and Master Engineer Tayven of the g’Beyan clan made this bridge in the year 495, the year of the Great Conjunction. May… may all who wish to cross it hereafter do so freely, in peace and safety’.”
He looked up at Rowan and his eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“’Tis a dwarven bridge, Rowan, and it has been for over five hundred years.”
Rowan put an arm around his friend’s shoulders.
“Aye, ‘tis, and a bloody fine one it is, too. Now, old friend, let’s get these ponies and the rest of the clan over the damned thing, and then we’ll have to find a way to tell Finn…”
**********
There was no problem with getting the rest of the clan around the narrow ledge. The ponies followed Rowan without hesitation, just as the others had done. Their riders trusted Rowan implicitly too, and obeyed his instructions to leave their ponies’ heads free and to try not to fuss their mounts; though some riders might have shut their eyes tightly, and others perhaps clutched their ponies’ manes like grim death, nobody mentioned it.
They were a bit surprised to see Dann sitting in the middle of the bridge waiting for them, but nothing was said about that either until everyone was safely on the other side of the bridge.
“Rowan, what’s that daft bugger Dann doing, still sitting out there in the middle of the bridge like a bump on a bloody log?” Finn demanded.
“He’s…” Rowan took a deep breath that he hoped Finn didn’t notice, “He’s waiting for me to take you out there. There’s something there that you need to see…”
Finn looked at Rowan very closely. His friend had had a lot of practice at keeping his thoughts to himself while he was in the Guard, and he was very good at it. Even so, he seemed… concerned, and perhaps something else.
“What’s wrong, laddie?”
Rowan shook his head.
“’Tis better if you see it for yourself, Finn,” he said slowly, “Will you come with me now?”
“Of course I will, but what the hell…?”
“Finn, it shames and dishonours me as a man to show you this, and it makes me very bloody angry too. Please, just come…”
Dann stood up as they reached the centre of the bridge.
“Well? I’m here, you silly pair of daft buggers,” Finn said, still puzzled, “Now, what’s so bloody mysterious, shameful and dishonourable that you’ve dragged me out here when we should all be helping to set up the camp? The night’s not getting any younger.”
Dann and Rowan glanced at each other quickly, and Rowan nodded and said softly, “Finn… this is a dwarven bridge we’re standing on… ‘tisn’t ‘Gabonsbridge’ at all, ‘tis ‘g’Beyans’ Bridge’…”
Finn’s eyes widened and he looked up at Rowan as if he’d gone completely mad.
“What! What makes you think that?”
“Look at this, Pa,” Dann said quietly, “Rowan saw it earlier, but he didn’t say anything about it because he thought… well, he thought it best not to.”
Finn looked at the carved stone and his face paled. He swore softly and impressively for a good while without repeating himself at all. Finally his voice wound down and he looked up at Rowan’s worried face.
“You were right, laddie, ‘twas best not to,” he said, “I think there’d have been things done that were best not done. At least those bastards are safe behind their damned walls until the morning, and we can spend the time cursing and swearing and ranting and raving and coming to terms with it a little.”
“I’m so sorry, Finn,” Rowan said.
“’Tisn’t your fault, laddie. Don’t take the actions of those useless bastards in there onto yourself. ‘Twould be like blaming us g’Hakken for the actions of the g’Tyrren,” the dwarf said, “Now, we’ve crossed the damned bridge, what’s the rest of your plan?”
Rowan managed a smile.
“I thought we could stop the caravans going across for a couple of days or so, just to irritate the townsfolk and get our point across.”
“Mmm… a good plan,”
Finn nodded thoughtfully, “But I think perhaps we can improve on it a bit. What do you think, Dann?”
“Well, there’s really no great rush to get to the Moot, is there? ‘Tis on for a good long while, Pa.”
“Ha! Great minds truly do think alike. So… how long did you have in mind, lad?”
Dann frowned in thought.
“A month? Six weeks?”
“Aye, that’s what I’m thinking too. We’ll have to see what the others have got to say, though,” Finn smiled at Rowan, “You look puzzled, laddie.”
“Did you truly just say we’re going to stay here for… what? Up to six weeks?” Rowan raised an eyebrow at both dwarves.
“Aye,” Finn replied happily, “’Tis a lovely spot just here, near the river, and it’ll give the clan and the ponies a bit of a break from travelling.”
“And it’ll upset the townsfolk no end,” Dann said, straightfaced.
“Aye, that too.”
Rowan laughed.
“Well, what are we doing standing about out here, then? Let’s get on with it,” he said.
**********
37. “ a day full of surprises”
The townsfolk of Gabonsbridge found themselves having a day full of surprises.
The watchman, Saul Goff, was the first. An hour after sunrise he opened the town gates to find a neatly trimmed and surprisingly big tree blocking the end of the bridge. Eight or ten dwarves and a Siannen forester were lounging comfortably on and against it, drinking mugs of tea. Those that weren’t carrying axes on their backs had heavy hammers. A neat tent town seemed to have miraculously appeared on the other side of the chasm, and it was peopled by more dwarves. Whole families of them.
“Where did all those dwarves come from?” he said in amazement.
“I told you they were just behind me yesterday,” Rowan said, “And now they’re here at g’Beyans’ Bridge.”
Saul heard the oddly different pronunciation of the town’s name, but put it down to a simple mispronunciation or, more likely, Rowan’s Siannen accent. He had much bigger things to be concerned with than that.
“But how did they…? Gods, they’ve got ponies with them too. How the hell did they get their ponies over there?”
“’Tis no great bloody mystery to it. I told the mayor we’d be going around. Didn’t he tell you?” Rowan smiled at his bewilderment, “And then we just crossed the bridge.”
“Going around? But…” Saul looked at the trampled grass on the narrow strip between the town walls and the chasm and blanched. “Great bloody hells.”
He pulled himself together enough to remember his main grievance.
“And what the hell’s that bloody great tree doing there? And how did the damned thing get there?” he said, aghast at the whole situation.
Rowan shrugged.
“Well, you know, trees fall down all the time. Especially these damned pine trees,” he said. Particularly if you hit them a few times with a nice sharp axe, he thought happily, and ‘tis surprising how strong the ponies are, and so is Ashen, and so are the rest of us.
“Well, it can’t stay there!”
“No? And why would you be thinking that?”
“Well, I… What do you mean?”
“We’re just taking back what’s ours,” Dann said, stepping forward a little.
“What the hell do you mean by that?” Saul snapped, less intimidated by the dwarf than he’d been by the tall, powerful-looking man he now knew to be the Champion. The triple Champion. He still shuddered when he thought about the way things had turned out there. At least he, personally, hadn’t offended the man.
“This is a dwarven bridge, laddie. Or did you not know that?”
By the look of stunned amazement on Saul’s face it was apparent that he’d had no idea and had probably never really given the bridge’s origins much thought. It was simply there, and always had been.
“How the hell can it be a bloody dwarven bridge?” he said, a bit less aggressively than before.
“Well, there’s a few ways… the plaque on the middle of it says so and, well, we g’Hakken say so too. And we’ve taken it over and we’re not in any particular hurry to give it back,” Dann said and smiled at him cheerfully as he nonchalantly balanced his hammer over one brawny shoulder.
“But…”
“The horseshoe’s on the other hoof now, isn’t it? Now, I know ‘tis probably a bit too early for them to be out of bed yet, but if you happen to see that useless idiot of a mayor of yours, or any of his council, we’d be happy to talk to them at any time. It won’t change anything, of course,” Rowan smiled at him too, “This tree’s not going anywhere until the clan says so, and neither’s the other one.”
Saul looked at the other end of the bridge and saw that another unfortunate pine tree was blocking it just as thoroughly as the first one. Great bloody Gods, he thought desperately, now what? All I need now is… His heart sank as the tollkeepers, Kein and Gavin, arrived on the scene.
“What the hell’s going on here? And what in the name of all the Gods is that bloody tree doing there?” Kein almost squeaked in horror.
“How did the bloody thing get there in the first place?” Gavin wanted to know.
Kein didn’t care about that for the moment.
“And what about the caravans that’re due today?” his face grew red as his voice rose, “How the hell can they get across with a fraggin great tree in the way?”
“Two fraggin great trees, in fact,” Rowan said happily, “And as for the caravans… well, the ones from the north can still enter the town, but they won’t be leaving this way. And the ones from the south will just have to wait until we dwarves come to our senses and let them cross the bridge, or they’ll have to go around. A bit like the dwarves have had to do for the last seventy years or so.” Rowan remembered something else. “Oh, and before I forget, Kein, we did pay for our crossing, so you don’t need to fret yourself about that. In fact we’ve likely left you too much, as we couldn’t bring our wagons after all, but you can keep the change. You’ll find the money on your little table there, inside the gate.”
Kein stared at him in amazement.
“What! How the hell did it get there? Did Saul let you in?”
Rowan shrugged.
“No. I put it there when we crossed the bridge last night, of course.”
“But…”
Rowan forced himself not to laugh, but he could hear a few sniggers from the dwarves. They were quite enjoying this little side trip to the g’Beyans’ Bridge now, and they’d enjoy it a lot more when the mayor and the caravans made their appearances.
“Walls are made to be climbed, aren’t they?” he said.
Kein looked up at the thirty-foot walls and then at Rowan.
“But…”
“Any forester over the age of six could climb those little things,” Rowan said, as if stating the obvious. As in fact he was.
Kein drew himself up for one final effort.
“I never knew you damned foresters were nothing more than common bloody brigands!” he shouted.
Rowan smiled at him.
“Neither did I,” he said cheerfully, “But we’re pretty versatile and we can do most things we set our minds to.”
**********
38. “they went around the town”
The mayor wasn’t pleased to be roused from his bed at such an early hour, and his disposition didn’t improve when he heard the reason for it.
“What the hell do you mean, ‘the dwarves have taken over the bloody bridge’? How could they possibly do that? And how the hell did they get anywhere near the damned thing?”
“They, er… they went around the town, Lester,” Kein said hesitantly. He’d been voted the one least likely to be thrown out of the mayor’s home so early in the day. They were brothers-in-law, after all, and both were on the Town Council.
“Ya, the forester said they were going to do that, but surely they couldn’t have got all the way down to the cross
ing, got themselves over the cursed thing and back up here already, and in the bloody dark, I might add. It’s just not possible with so many. Weren’t there a hundred and fifty-odd of them?”
“Ya, something like that. But, no, it probably isn’t possible, though I wouldn’t put anything past that damned forester… Anyway, it’s not what happened,” Kein hesitated, “They… they went around the walls, Lester…”
Lester Figgins stared at him in amazement as what he’d said sank in properly. No, he must be wrong.
“What! Along that little narrow strip of land that the young lads try to test themselves on, you mean? Don’t be bloody daft, man! It’d only be, what, four or five feet wide?”
He’d never been brave or silly enough to try it, even as a young man, and very few did after young Colin Mathery had fallen into the chasm and never been seen again. The boy had been barely sixteen.
Kein nodded slowly, still shocked at what he’d seen, but the evidence of his own eyes was undeniable.
“Ya, something like that, I suppose. But I’ve seen it, Lester… the grass on that little strip is all trampled by ponies…”
Lester’s amazement turned to horror.
“Ponies? On there? No, they couldn’t have…”
“They did.”
**********
Rowan and the dwarves were pleased to see the mayor hurrying up to them, his shirt buttoned wrongly, his hat askew and one bootlace flapping dangerously. It must have been too early for the rest of the Town Council, but they wouldn’t be missed.
“Here we go, lads,” Rowan said, “Who wants to talk to the bastard?”
“We all voted for you, Rowan lad. You’ve met him, after all,” one of the dwarven hunters, Crann, spoke up.
Rowan looked at his friends suspiciously.
“And how come I wasn’t included in this damned vote?”
“’Twas a secret ballot,” Owen said innocently.
Rowan laughed at the shamelessness of his clansmen. It reminded him of Griff and the ‘expertise in dealing with military minds’ business.
“Aye, very bloody ‘secret’! Never mind, I’ll talk with His fraggin Lordship the Mayor. He’s about to find out just how stubborn a forester and a dwarf can be.”
