Gates of Thread and Stone(28)

I wrung the strap of my bag. Questions collided in my mind: What if it’s a trap? But how can we not take the bridge? It’s practically an invitation. “Well, we won’t have to keep walking through all this dust.”

“We’ll have to thank him for being prompt,” Avan added. “It’s too bad we forgot a gift for the host.”

“I’ll improvise,” I said, thinking about the knife.

Now that the path forward had literally been presented to me, I didn’t know if I was prepared for it. My clammy palms suggested I wasn’t. I had been so focused on just getting through the Outlands and then the forest and the Void that, aside from bartering with the Rider, I hadn’t thought about what else I’d do when we found him. Or if I’d even get the chance to offer the trade.

Still, at the end of that bridge was Reev. That was all the reason I needed to move forward.

We approached warily. The bridge appeared solid enough. I had been half expecting it to vanish like a mirage.

I paused at the first step from black dirt to dusty stone, but Avan didn’t hesitate. I followed, stepping carefully.

Holes blistered the stone, and whole sections had crumbled at the outer boundaries. We stuck to the middle where it seemed sturdiest, despite the fissures throughout. Tall unlit lampposts, more rust than metal, braced each side in intervals. We couldn’t see where the bridge ended. I began to wish I’d had breakfast first.

Movement above made me look up. We hadn’t seen birds, or any signs of life, since the forest. It was easy to lose all sense of direction in this fog. Maybe some pigeons had gotten caught in it. I scanned the edge of the bridge, following the vertical line of the nearest lamppost.

It wasn’t a pigeon.

Atop the lamppost, where it bent over the bridge to form an inverted L, crouched a gargoyle. Its long body huddled above the busted lantern, wrapped in smoky threads. It watched us with wide, flat eyes, claws clacking against the flaking rust, tail twined around the post. Frills extended from the sides of its head, quivering as if caught in an invisible wind.

Avan reached for my hand, and I squeezed his tightly.

Something else moved on our left. My gaze darted that way. A second gargoyle sat atop another lamppost, its tail flicking behind it.

“The knife,” Avan whispered.

I reached for it, afraid to make any sudden movements but just as afraid the creatures would pounce before I could grab it. We made our way slowly down the bridge, feet shuffling against dust and loose stones. The urge to turn and run seized me, but I forced my legs to cooperate. My quick breaths sounded deafening in the silence. Now I saw that one of the creatures occupied nearly every lamppost along the bridge. The gargoyles balanced at the tops, some straight and alert and others reclining on folded legs. All of them watched us.

It’s true, I thought, horrified. The Rider did tame gargoyles. What if the rest of the rumors were true as well? What if he did feed them . . .

I had the hilt of the knife in my hand when a voice rang out:

“You won’t need that.”

I jumped, yanking the knife from my bag. Avan stepped in front of me, blocking my view. I scowled and elbowed him aside.

A figure emerged from the fog—a boy, wiry and a bit disheveled and probably no older than Avan. He waved affably.

I looked between the boy and the gargoyles, my body still strung tight. I didn’t lower the knife.

“The gargoyles are trained to identify Ninu’s sentinels,” the boy said, gesturing to the creatures guarding the bridge. “Which you’re obviously not.”

I looked at Avan, who lifted his pierced eyebrow as if to say “Your call.”

Still hyperaware of the gargoyles watching us, I said, “We’re looking for the Black Rider.”

“I figured,” the boy said. His eyes were bright blue in the muted light. “Why else would you be here?”

Then he turned and strolled back up the bridge. He didn’t even check to see if we would follow. I lowered the knife to my side, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I watched his outline grow faint in the enveloping fog. Following him would be crazy.

“Kai?” Avan said. I realized that I still held his hand tightly in mine. He pulled me forward.

I nodded, and we hurried after the boy.



The fog was so thick that the fortress seemed to float in the clouds. It looked as if it had been carved from a cliff, jagged and impossibly high, with only a few windows far at the top. More gargoyles prowled along the battlements, pacing back and forth like the Watchmen along Ninurta’s walls. Others were stationed on jutting perches, as perfectly still and menacing as their namesakes.

Amazingly, people patrolled the high ledges as well. Their figures looked small and indistinct as they stood guard alongside the creatures.

Avan gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I relaxed my white-knuckled grip on the knife. I didn’t know if it was fear or anticipation that had my heart pounding in my ears.

A silver door swung open as the three of us approached, the dragging sound of metal on dirt climbing up the fortress wall. Once we’d stepped off the bridge, the ground was black, which meant we were still in the Void. I didn’t know how the Rider was hiding this place, but I doubted we would’ve made it here if he hadn’t shown us the way.

Inside the door, lanterns hung from the rafters on chains, lighting a cavernous hall, empty save for some broken benches pushed against the walls. A few of the lights quivered weakly. Our shuffling footsteps echoed around us.