Not that the finite power of his token was the only reason Cedric felt himself incapable of doing such a thing.
“You appear displeased, Sir Thorne,” Lord Church said, some emotion Cedric couldn’t quite read lacing his words.
“No, my lord,” Cedric said quickly, cursing internally for wearing his emotions so plainly on his face.
“You would have acted differently.”It wasn’t a question.
“I—” Cedric wasn’t sure how to respond.
Lord Church pursed his lips. “These men would have slaughtered us all to take what few possessions we travel with. Think of those they may already have done so to, those not as fortunate to have such esteemed fighters in their party. What would you have me do?”
“Yes, my lord, I just thought that perhaps a show of mercy might?—”
“Mercy is a luxury of the weak,” Lord Church said, his tone even. Like it was just a simple fact of the world. “Power is in hard decisions made, the respect gained from a strong will, from being willing to mete out swift justice. You would do well to remember this for the trials ahead.”
“Yes, my lord.” Face red, Cedric sheathed his sword and turned to Hargrave, who wiped his blade on the shirt of the now very-dead bandit. “How bad is your injury?”
“I’ve had worse.” Hargrave attempted a grin, though it came out as more of a grimace.
Cedric’s brow furrowed. “Let me see.” He gently moved Hargrave’s hand aside to reveal a deep gash that had been cut through the guard’s doublet. Blood seeped from the wound. Cedric looked at Hargrave in disbelief. “This needs to be treated.”
“Bah, merely a scratch. I shall be fine, Sir Thorne.”
“Yes, yes, you are very strong and brave,” Cedric said with a roll of his eyes. “Thibault, fetch the healer’s kit from the wagon.”
With a chuckle, Thibault sprinted off.
“Let us keep moving,” said the lord. “We have delayed too long.”
Cedric nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
Once Hargrave was patched up and the bandits’ bodies had been hauled to the side of the road, the men set off once more. Lord Church, Cedric, and Hargrave sat in the back of the wagon while Thibault held the reins at the front.
Though Cedric kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, noting every rustle of leaves and distant birdcall, the ride was blessedly quiet as they wound through forest and field until they reached the Chasm.
It was then that Cedric’s heart began thumping in his chest. He swallowed, staring at the flat expanse of stone—perhaps the length of four men laying head-to-toe. The bridge that would carry them acrossthe colossal abyss.
Thibault said something—a joke, perhaps, judging by Hargrave’s answering guffaw—but Cedric didn’t hear it. His gaze was stuck on the cliff ahead, the sun casting long shadows across the rocky expanse. The wind whispered a haunting melody that seemed to beckon from the great canyon’s depths. Cedric’s cuirass suddenly felt too tight. Suffocating.
“First time making the crossing?” Hargrave asked, humor evident in his voice as he scratched at the dark stubble lining his jaw.
Cedric’s eyes dropped to his boots. “That obvious, is it?”
Thibault snickered. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Sir Champion.” Cedric sent him a cutting look, but Thibault’s eyes were on the road ahead. “This bridge is sturdier than it looks.”
Lord Leviathan Church nodded in agreement—a reassurance. But Cedric got the distinct feeling there was amusement there as well. He didn’t understand why. Surely anyone who took one look at the cracked stone and the infinite drop below would feel the same way he did...wouldn’t they?
He swallowed hard as the wagon creaked across the ancient bridge. The Chasm yawned below them, its depths hidden in shadow. Despite the confidence of the rest of his party, Cedric couldn’t shake the feeling that came with the knowledge that one misstep could send them plummeting into the abyss.
He rubbed his sweat-slicked palms together and tried his best to distract himself. He fixed his eyes on the thinning tree line, the mixing colors of the aurora in the sky. He tried to drag himself back to the happy memories of his final night in Kingshelm, sated with drink, buried between warm thighs. Tried to focus on anything other than the creak of the wagon’s wheels as they dragged over the bridge, the echo of the horse’s hooves clopping on the stone.
“Tell me, Cedric”—Lord Church’s voice broke the silence—“now that you’re finally experiencing it in person for the first time, what do you think of the Chasm?”
So much for that plan.
“Is it all you thought it would be?” Lord Church pressed.
Cedric’s gaze flicked to the edge of the bridge, where the stoneseemed to crumble away into nothingness. “It is certainly...impressive,” he managed to say, voice tight. “Descriptions and maps do its vastness no justice. I have never seen anything like it.”
