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She had forgotten she wore only the claw necklace that stayed with her each time that she shape-changed. “Oh, for—!” she cried. Getting her pack, she went behind a tree. Fumbling with her garments, the girl shouted the details of her talk with Broad Foot.
When she emerged, stockings in hand, Numair was close by, ready with her boots.
“Are you sure you didn’t drink from the lake?” she asked quietly, fixing him with a stern eye. “That creature looked to me like a blue, naked female with a big chest, until Broad Foot changed my vision. She looked like just the kind of female you might want to be tempted by, Master Salmalín.”
He blushed. “I give you my solemn word that I did not drink the lake water and request temptation,” he said, combing his wet mane back with his fingers. “I tested it with my Gift, and sensed there was something very wrong with it. You know, magelet, the gods may be losing ground against Chaos.”
Broad Foot had arrived and was talking softly to the badger. Hearing the mage, they broke off their conference and came over. “What makes you think so?” asked the badger, dark eyes sharp.
“I know my legends and myths,” explained the man. “The creators of the universe ordained that the gods, who stand for order, and Chaos, who stands for—”
“Chaos,” Daine interrupted with a smile.
Numair tweaked her nose. “They must stay in balance. The only problem is that it’s the nature of each to fight the other. It’s written that a day will come when the Queen of Chaos will break free of the prison made for her by her siblings, the Great Gods.”
“When that day comes, the mortal and divine realms will melt into Chaos. The gods—all gods—will perish, as will mortal life.” Broad Foot’s voice was grim.
“You know your legends well, human,” remarked the badger.
“I have to report this,” the duckmole told them. “It’s more than just the lake being poisoned. The creature that had you captive was no part of this place. It was a Chaos dweller, masked as a lake being. How one of them managed to escape into the Divine Realms. . . . You start without me—I’ll catch up.” Without another word, he vanished.
Packing, Daine filled Numair in on what he’d missed while bespelled, as the badger went to examine the vent. Once she was ready, the girl realized that she hadn’t seen the darking.
“We have to go,” warned Numair. “We can’t spend the day searching for it.”
“I know,” replied Daine, scanning the grass around them. “I think it does, too. I just hope it didn’t fall into the lake.”
When the badger rejoined them, the humans shouldered their packs and returned to the path. There, stark against sandy dirt, was an inky pool. “Is that you?” she asked it. “Did you come back?”
The ink split. Half flowed over to her and reached up with a pair of armlike tentacles. The other half thrust up a part of itself shaped as a head, cocking it to one side.
Daine stooped and picked up the one that clearly wanted her to do so. Cupped in her hand, the darking was light, but still had weight and a presence against her skin—like a bubble filled with water, she thought. “You brought a friend?” The darking on her palm grew its own head and nodded.
“More of those?” grumbled the badger. “Don’t they have anything else to do?”
Both darkings shook their heads.
Daine smiled. Giving her bow to Numair to hold, she lifted the newcomer in her free hand. “I don’t know where you two will sit, though.”
The first darking trickled up her arm and curled around her neck, a bit of coolness on her skin. The other flowed over her wrist until it could drip into her belt pouch.
“I guess we’re set,” she told her companions. Numair returned her bow. They set off briskly, mage and badger in the lead, Daine bringing up the rear. It was something she and Numair did automatically: She could trust him to pay attention to what was ahead; he knew that she would guard their backs.
The duckmole rejoined them as they stopped for their noon meal. “Not good, not good,” he said, pacing the clearing where they sat. “They have placed a ban on the lake, but they won’t be looking into the matter of those who have been tainted. I think—” He came to a halt and sighed. “I think it is all they can do to hold the barriers against her.”
“Then if we can do nothing here, let’s be on our way,” suggested Numair. “Daine and I would like to go home, where we can do something.”
FIVE
THE BRIDGE
They made good time that afternoon. Black mountain pines gave way to maples, chestnuts, and paper birches, and larger clearings. Flashes of bright color darted through the tree canopy as the sunbirds began their afternoon’s homage to the sun.
Suddenly the travelers emerged onto a long, wide, grass shelf. Ahead the land fell into a vast gorge. Approaching the edge, Daine looked down and whistled. Far, far below lay a thin, silver curl: a river.
“Long Drop Gorge,” the badger told them. Nodding at two splintery logs planted upright in the ground at the cliff’s edge, he added, “And there’s the First Bridge.”
Daine gulped. What had looked like a sturdy enough wood-and-rope construction in the vision over Weiryn’s map was in reality fraying, twisted hemp and ancient slats. Twin ropes, as old and unreliable looking as the rope of the floor, were strung as rails at waist height and attached to the logs. The whole structure didn’t look as if it would support even one of them, let alone their whole group.
“The first rope-and-wood bridge,” corrected the duck-mole. “The first rope bridge is further up. We didn’t think you’d like that.”
“First Bridge or First Wood-and-Rope Bridge, it won’t break,” snapped the badger. “It was set here after the first humans were done with it, and it’s been here ever since. No force in the Divine Realms may break it, until the realms themselves are broken.”
“Is there an easier way to cross?” Numair asked. “Anywhere?”
Both gods shook their heads. “Long Drop Gorge extends several days’ march in both directions,” explained Broad Foot. “You did say you are in a hurry.”
“Would you be able to carry our belongings if you and Broad Foot transported yourselves across?” the man wanted to know.
“No,” said the duckmole. “Weiryn and Sarra both put some of their power into what you carry, to help you. Those things are bound to you. If we tried to take them, they would not come.”
Numair eyed the crystal in his staff and said drily, “I didn’t know Weiryn cared.”
Daine looked at the canyon floor again and winced. It was just too far down. First Bridge or no, the thought of seeing that distant ribbon far under her toes made her sweat. I could take eagle shape, she thought. Heights never bother me when I fly.
That was no good. Numair carried his staff; she couldn’t burden him with her belongings, not when he’d need a free hand to grasp one of the ropes that served as rails.
An arm slipped around her shoulders. “Are you all right?” Numair asked. “Heights don’t bother you.”
“It’s the bridge as much as the height,” she replied.
“I will carry your things, if you want to shift,” he told her softly. “A shape change is out of the question for me. We must keep our food and weapons, for one. For another, I would hate to use my Gift to fly across, then need it to handle trouble on the other side.”
“If we are going today, let us begin,” urged the badger. “I would like to be across before anyone, or anything, else comes by.”
The thought of being caught on that bridge by an enemy made Daine’s stomach roll. “He’s right.” She tried to smile at Numair. “We’d best start walking.”
Numair put down the duckmole and stood back. Silver fire bloomed, shrank: The gods vanished, to reappear on the far side of the canyon.
Daine insisted that Numair go first, and tried not to watch as he carefully moved away from the cliff. When he was well ahead, she bit her lip and stepped onto the first plank. It shuddered beneath her weight
; the whole structure shook with her friend’s movement. Trembling, she seized the rope handholds: firmly with her right hand, awkwardly with her left, the one in which she carried the bow.
Numair slipped, making the bridge rock. Like Daine, he’d managed the barest hold on the left-hand rope, hampered by his staff. “It takes getting used to,” he called to her.
“It’s stood for time out of mind!” The badger’s voice came from the air near them.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” they both chorused.
Numair glanced back at the girl, and grinned. She had to smile as well. Carefully, he walked on, eyes on the planks before him.
She’d meant to keep her eyes forward. Instantly she discovered that would be impossible. Gaps lay between the wide boards. To avoid putting a foot through an opening, she had to look where she stepped, and was treated to a view of the river as it wound between tall, jagged rocks far below. She forged ahead, a step at a time.
Away from the cliff, she walked into a brisk, playful breeze. “Of course,” she growled. “What would a First Bridge be without its own plank-rocking first wind!”
Movement pulled her attention to her chest, rather than her footing. Shimmering with light, the darking that had been tucked into her belt purse now hung by a tentacle from her belt. The other darking had flowed off her neck to swarm over the belt darking, hitting it with tentacles shaped like hammers. She heard small plops as each blow landed.
