“They are building something of wood. A great ribbed structure, not unlike a ship’s mast. It’s a bridge of sorts.”
Kara peered in that direction for the first time. Three huge contraptions were arrayed in various stages of completion. They looked like wheeled carts, each wide enough for twenty men to walk abreast, each over a hundred yards in length. Toward the front of each, level and on opposing edges, were two tall wooden triangles. From the top of those descended thick chains.
“I think he’s right,” Gideon whispered.
“I think the idea would be to line the contraption up in front of a ravine, and then use beasts or men to pull on the chains,” Theodore said. “This looks to winch up the upper layer, and once it is winched high enough, they can lower it or drop it across the gap.”
The knight turned away from the embrasure and put his hands flat together. He held them horizontally.
“This is the contraption as it is now,” he said, “more or less, without the wooden triangles. Now, when they force the winches up, the upper level folds over.” He raised his left hand slightly, still joined to his right at the palm but now with an inch wide gap between the tips of his fingers. “Then it is simply a matter of pulling further to raise the bridge to its apex and then letting it fall to the other side.”
“But why would this Black Prince need bridges? What ravine has he to cross?” Gideon asked.
“Not a ravine, Gideon,” Kara offered with a grim certainty. “A river. The Salve.”
“But that’s impossible,” Gleeman responded. “The barrier-”
“Come on!” Georgi shouted again. “We need to move. We haven’t long till nightfall and no sane man would walk the Barrows then. Even the Vyrewatch avoid it.”
“Gar’rth gave us his word we would not be detained,” Theodore said in reply.
Georgi shook his head. “His word is worth less than nothing in the Barrows, for no power controls them!”
Kara felt chilled at their guide’s words.
They moved quickly after that, across stone bridges and down stairwells as the daylight faded. Finally, when the last burning embers lit the western horizon, Georgi halted.
“We are here,” he said. “This is as far as I go. There is still time, if you hurry. Head west, between the Barrows, but do not delay, and do not stop-no matter what you see do not stop.”
Then he was gone, back the way they had come.
A shadow moved from the west, a man running. As he saw them he gave a cry, and Theodore drew his sword while Castimir readied his runes.
“It’s Vanstrom!” Kara hissed. “The man in the cage.”
And if he’s alive then perhaps Pia and Jack are too?
The man ran up and stopped. He spoke with a fearful agitation.
“Come,” he said. “We must go. Right now. This place isn’t safe after dark.”
“Wait, Vanstrom. What of Pia and Ja-”
“They are safe, Kara-Meir. But we cannot linger here. Come on!”
Now Theodore took Castimir’s place with Albertus, and the wizard jogged alongside Kara, gripping some runes in one hand. The knight questioned their new guide.
“What is this place?” he asked. On both sides, small mounds surrounded them. Ill-coloured grass covered the hillocks, growing long and twisted, as if poisoned from below the earth. For a reason she couldn’t explain, Kara felt trapped.
“It is the Barrows,” Vanstrom hissed, as if that explained everything. Even though she ran, she felt the warmth seep from her limbs into the ground.
“This is unnatural,” Theodore said behind her. “No matter how hard I run, I grow colder.”
“We must go faster,” Vanstrom said urgently. “It is not far now.”
The golden stretch of light to the west had gone now, and with the darkness came the smell of death, rising up from the ground. The terrible coldness made Kara’s limbs feel icy and stiff.
Suddenly Castimir cried out.
Upon the summit of the nearest barrow stood a ghostly figure, holding an immense axe. A purple haze surrounded it. The apparition remained still, while the scent of death gradually became overpowering.
“It’s them!” Vanstrom yelled. “It’s the Brothers. Don’t stray from the path or you will be lost.”
They will kill us! They will take us! We can’t fight this!
Kara sprinted. She fled past Castimir, ignoring him as he dropped his runes in fear, her only need was to be away from that place. Never had she felt like this-not even on the icy island as Sulla pursued her. It was all she could do not to curl up and bury her face in her hands. Behind her she heard Theodore stumble, but she dared not turn around. Even her adamant sword, suddenly in her hand, seemed heavy, as if it tried to slow her down.
Leave it. Leave it behind and run, just run! But somehow still she gripped it.
“Kara! Where are the others?”
Doric’s gruff voice cut through her fear. She felt tears cold on her face, her breath came in gasps, and her heart pounded so hard she felt faint. Suddenly she saw that there were no more Barrows ahead of her, that she was free.
“Behind…” she stammered. “They are coming.”
The cold disappeared suddenly, and clinging warmth rushed in to replace it.
She turned to look back. Theodore was there, his face ashen, still with Albertus carried between him and Gideon, the jester with his eyes closed. Castimir ran at their side, his hands shaking, breathing quickly. Vanstrom came last.
“What was that place?” she murmured. “I have never felt the like.”
“Nor I,” Theodore agreed.
“It is the undead,” Vanstrom told them, wheezing. “The Barrow Brothers. Ancient warriors buried here so long ago that their origins are unknown to us. In Meiyerditch we tell legends of them. Some claim there is an immense treasure horde buried below, or magical halls in which the Brothers wait until the day they will be called. Until that time, they wander the Barrows, looking for living beings to take as their servants.”
Kara breathed deeply. The fear had gone now. She saw Doric look over her shoulder in confusion.
“Where is Gar’rth?” the dwarf asked anxiously.
She shook her head. Theodore looked troubled.
“He isn’t coming,” the knight explained. “It is the price for our freedom, Doric. But he was safe when we left him, and he didn’t seem frightened at all.”
Please don’t be angry, Doric, Kara said silently. I haven’t the strength left.
The dwarf gritted his teeth and bowed his head, and quietly he whispered something in his own language. But Kara knew what it meant.
“May Guthix protect him for his sacrifice,” he said, “and may we live our lives worthy enough to do his memory proud.”
Behind the dwarf two men emerged. Both were haggard and yet tough looking, clearly they weren’t strangers to hardship.
“Karnac, Harold,” Vanstrom nodded in greeting. “We are all here. Come, let us go to the boat without delay.” He turned to Kara. “Your friends Despaard and Arisha are guarding it.”
Kara sat in the bow, staring silently ahead.
For nearly an hour no one had spoken, and the stillness was broken only by the creaking strain of the oars in the rowlocks and their faint flash and dip in the stagnant black water. Ahead of her in the gloom, the view seemed forever unchanged and she could vaguely see twisted trees that stood half-submerged in the swamp on both sides. If there was a current, as Vanstrom suggested, she couldn’t make it out. The foetid air was suffocating, given form by the green mist that rose before them.
Was there anything I could have done, or said, to make him change his mind? Was there anything Theodore could have done, or Castimir?
She blinked away tears that she hid from her friends and turned to look back over her shoulder. Immediately behind her sat Castimir and Arisha. Even in shadow, she could tell that the wizard’s face was grim and resigned, and she knew his thoughts ran similar to hers. Behind them lay Albertus, his eyes half-closed. At his side sat Gideon, his face downcast. Then came the rowers-Despaard and the man called Harold, labouring away under the watchful guidance of Vanstrom, who half stood and half crouched above them. Behind him was Theodore and then Doric, the dwarf watching for any signs of pursuit from the stern.