The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(41)

Back inside the bridge, the group moved at speed, no one speaking. So it was unmistakable when the faint sound of a horn, long and mournful, pierced the thickness of the stone encasing them. Aren and the rest stopped in their tracks, listening. It sounded again, the same long note, followed by a pattern of short peals that repeated three times in rapid succession before cutting off in the middle of the fourth, as though the horn had been ripped from the blower’s lips.

“That’s Serrith’s call for aid,” Jor said.

“Have its civilians departed for War Tides yet?” Aren demanded.

War Tides?

“No.” Even with the blindfold on, Lara felt the tension running through the group crackling like an electric storm.

“Who’s closest?” There was a shake to Aren’s voice. A hint of something Lara had yet to see in him: fear.

Jor cleared his throat. “We are.”

Silence.

“We can’t leave her alone in the bridge,” Aren said.

“We can’t spare anyone to stay with her, and we don’t have time to bring her back to Nana.”

Lara bit her tongue, wanting to weigh in but knowing she was best served in saying nothing.

“No helping it. We’ll have to bring her with us.” Aren’s hands brushed against the side of her face as he pulled off the blindfold. “Keep up. Keep silent. And when the fighting starts, stay out of the way.”

Praying he’d mistake her excitement for fear, she nodded once. “I will.”

The group broke into a run.





16





Lara





Lara struggled to keep pace with the Ithicanians, the stale air burning in her chest as the group sprinted through the bridge. Only luck allowed her to notice when Lia planted a foot square on a mile marker, her mouth moving silently as she began counting her strides.

Lara picked up Lia’s count, storing away the number when the other woman held up a hand and skidded to stop. Jor boosted her on his shoulders while the rest prepared their gear. None of them spoke, and Lara kept to the shadows as she watched Lia reach up to press her palm against what appeared to be smooth stone. There was a heavy click, then, with a heave of effort, she lifted up a hinged hatch in the ceiling of the bridge.

Another way in.

Triumph rushed through Lara even as cool air gusted inside, catching at the loose strands of her hair as Jor and Aren lifted the other soldiers into the opening. Then Jor was up, and only she and Aren remained.

“You ever reveal any of this to anyone, I’ll kill you myself.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Lara by the waist and raised her up into the opening.

Jor caught hold of her arms, lifting her onto the top of the bridge before leaning down to haul Aren up as well, the two of them flipping the hatch shut. But it was hard for Lara to focus on what the men were doing, because she stood on a bridge through the clouds.

Wet mist had settled back on Ithicana while they’d been inside, and it whirled and gusted, pulling at her clothes before spinning away in violent little eddies. Below, the sea crashed against a pier or an island or maybe both—she couldn’t tell. Couldn’t see more than a dozen paces in either direction, and it was like being in a totally different world. Like being in a dream that stood on the brink of a nightmare.

“Be careful,” Aren warned, taking her hand. “It’s slippery, and we’re at a high point. You wouldn’t survive the fall.”

She followed him at a slow run, everyone struggling to keep their balance on the slick surface as the bridge sloped down toward the next pier, which Lara could only faintly see through the mist. But before they reached it, the guards all dropped as though given an invisible cue, Aren hauling her down with him.

As Lara’s hands pressed against the wet stone, her eyes landed on a mile marker, the wheels in her mind turning as a strategy for invasion began to form.

Jor had a spyglass out, which panned this way and that before freezing in place. “Amarid naval vessel.” He passed the glass to Aren, who looked once, then swore.

“We should wait for reinforcements,” Jor continued, taking the glass back and crawling to the opposite side of the bridge, staring out in the same direction as the rest of the soldiers. The mist swirled, revealing an island for a heartbeat before obscuring it again. “Once they get their whole crew on land, we’ll be badly outnumbered.”

No one spoke, and it was then that the winds shifted direction. With them came the screams.

“We go now,” Aren ordered.

None of the guards argued. One of them attached a cable to a thick metal ring embedded in the bridge, the other end fixed to a heavy bolt that was fitted into a weapon designed like a crossbow. Then he handed it to Aren. “You do the honors, Your Grace?”

Aren took the weapon, kneeling on the stone. “Come on,” he muttered. “Let me see.”

The winds stalled, and no one seemed to breathe. Lara dug her fingers into the stone, watching and waiting, the anticipation making her heart race. Then the air roared against them, sweeping away the clouds, and Aren smiled once.

He released the bolt with a loud twang, grunting against the force of the recoil. The bolt soared toward the island, trailing the slender cable after it, and with a loud crack audible even from the distance, it spiked through one of the trees.