Still the rain poured down on them and still the horses plodded through it. Hrangil set a pace as fast as possible, but they had to push through bracken and boulders and fallen trees. They could not travel faster than a walk.
About mid-morning Menish called a halt and they passed around some honey cakes and some dry bread, which everyone ate ravenously, for they had not eaten since the night before. Everyone except Azkun who refused any food. Menish sighed, it was going to be a long journey to Atonir.
An hour or so after they set off again he heard Azkun and Althak talking. The rain drummed on his hood and he could not hear them clearly at first, but a slight lessening of the downpour allowed him to catch their drift.
“…I've always revered dragons, they are my kin,” said Althak. “But I've never heard it said that they created the world. It's said among my people that Kopth lay with Kiveri-Thun and from that union the world was born.”
“And who is this ‘Kopth’, a dragon?”
Althak hesitated as if he were considering a thing he had not thought of before.
“I'm not sure. The priestesses say he is a spirit that can take whatever form he pleases, man, dragon, sometimes a bull. His favourite form is a dragon, there's no doubt of that.”
“Then he is a dragon. He can change to other forms perhaps, I do not know, but he must be a dragon.”
“Perhaps,” said Althak, though he seemed not entirely convinced.
“And so the dragons made the world. You said so yourself.”
Menish heard the smile in Althak’s reply.
“That I did, almost.”
Menish was surprised that Azkun had lost his intensity. He even laughed at Althak’s reply.
“Then you will not doubt that the dragons, Kopth if you prefer, are perfection. You have seen them yourself.”
“I've seen them in the north, not only at Kelerish. They often cavort above the sea cliffs. I believe they ride the winds up there like a ship rides the winds on the sea. The first sight I caught of them the folk with me were afraid and hid indoors. I didn't know why until I saw one breathe fire.”
“Why?”
“Oh, why indeed. Azkun, you stood in dragon fire and lived. We count that a marvel. No other man would've survived such an ordeal-”
“But it was no ordeal!” he protested. “The fire of the dragon was as gentle as the rain. It opened my eyes and my mind. It gave me speech.”
“Then you are especially blessed. In the north we both love and fear the dragons. We love their beauty, but we fear their power.”
In a low voice that Menish could hardly hear Azkun replied.
“You do not have to fear them. It is only the corruption within you that fears them.”
“What do you mean?” Althak’s tone was suddenly guarded. It was a tone he often used at the court of Menish when he was taken to task for his Vorthenki ways. Some would try to ridicule him, others would accuse him of crimes relating to the barbarity of the Vorthenki rites. There were those who were genuinely offended by Vorthenki and there were others who wrongly thought this was a stepping stone to Menish’s favour.
“Do not be offended, but consider. If the dragons created the world how could they be anything but joy to us?”
“How indeed? Yet they are powerful. I wouldn't like to meet an angry dragon.”
“You misunderstand. There is a barrier between yourself and the dragons, like the Lansheral, a wall. The dragons did not place it there, I do not know where it came from, I cannot believe it was there in the beginning. But it is there now.”
“A wall? I've seen no wall. Where is it?”
Menish could not tell if Althak was baiting Azkun or if he was genuinely puzzled. There was humour in his voice, though. His guarded tone had faded away.
“It is not a wall of stone, nor of earth. It is corruption.”
“Corruption? A wall? Now you confuse me utterly.”
“Corruption. I first knew it in the Chasm, though I did not know it for what it was. But when the dragon bathed me in its flame the corruption was melted from me and I was born into the upper world. I thought there was no corruption here. Yesterday I discovered that I was wrong.” Azkun seemed to grope for words, and Menish noticed his former intensity returning. “It manifests itself in all foul things, in all violence, in all fear. Yesterday the river tried to kill me, the mountains were silent and cruel.” He hesitated. “And you killed the pig.”
“A man will die if he doesn't eat.”
“I will not.”
“But, Azkun, I will. I can't stand in dragon fire and live, nor can I go hungry and live. If you're different then don't accuse us of corruption because we must eat.”
Azkun fell silent and their conversation stopped. Menish felt, at last, that he understood how Azkun thought. That Azkun was deluded was obvious, but Menish began to follow his deluded reasoning.
Gilish would not, of course, have spoken so. Menish had always heard that Gilish had regarded dragons as enemies. He had never fought them. It had not come to that. The dragons had occupied the peninsula of Kishir and Gilish had wanted Kishir in his empire. But perhaps Gilish was entitled to change his mind. It was all so long ago.
The rain eased in the afternoon, fitful showers passed over from time to time but they were able to throw back their hoods and dry out somewhat. Menish was grateful for the warmth of the horse. He was sure his leg would have been the worse without that comfort.
With the easing of the rain came the wind. They were sheltered from it in the forest, though its icy fingers sometimes stole through the trees. When the road passed across an exposed cliff face or ridge they felt its full blast. The wind blew from the snows of the mountains above them and brought their cold with it. Menish clutched his cloak tightly around him and hoped they would reach Lianar by evening.
They had been travelling through steep country for some time now. The road led across cliff faces where it had been hacked out of the rock and wound around the contours of the mountains. Far below Menish could hear a river thrashing its way through the gorge and, above, the cliffs rose sheer. When he leaned over the edge of the road he saw that they were a dizzy height above the river. It was a tiny white streak in the gloom below.
Their way was constantly made difficult now by the rocks and rubble that had fallen across the road. They had to dismount and lead the horses a number of times, and progress was slow, and especially hard for Azkun.
After a particularly treacherous stretch where the road narrowed to a thin track just wide enough to pass and rocks turned beneath their feet as they walked, they found themselves standing before a bridge.
It was no ordinary bridge. Menish had seen many works of Gilish in his life, but he had not expected such a thing to emerge out of the northern wilds. It leapt the gorge in a single, graceful span. Menish looked, as he had done with so many of Gilish’s works, and wondered at it. It was an impossibility. Such a thing could never have been built. Yet, here it was.
“Blaze of Aton!” cried Drinagish. “What is this?”
“It's the Bridge of Sheagil, made by Gilish himself to reach her,” said Hrangil.
“Must we cross this?” asked Althak. “It looks old-”
Hrangil snorted contempt, as if Gilish and anything he did would last forever. But he also looked at Azkun, perhaps hoping that he would recognise this marvel.
Azkun was clearly impressed by the bridge. He hobbled over to the very edge of the gorge to look at it. He knelt there and touched the grey stone, as if in greeting. His palm caressed it almost tenderly with his one free hand. He smiled.
Hrangil, who was leading the company, hesitated, obviously wanting to see what Azkun would do. Presently Azkun rose and turned to them. It started to rain again and the wind buffeted him on the edge of the precipice.
“A bridge!” he cried above the wind. “A bridge across the river, across the chasm! This,” he turned and flung out his arms as if to encompass the structure. “This is the answer to corruption!” Joy lit his eyes as if he were giving them a gift he knew they had yearned for.