The sun was high overhead when the trees finally vanished and the bog became a broad river that seemed to flow one direction on the near side and the opposite way along the other side. The far bank sloped up from the water in a gentle slope covered with gnarled black oaks-no doubt as petrified as the bog trees-but at least standing on dry ground.
Takari laid the shadow path perhaps halfway across the river and started across, only to watch the swirl of a dark eddy catch it near the end and sucked it beneath the surface. She saved them all by flipping the sword around and severing the trail with a flash from the bright side of the blade, then quickly laid another path and tried again. This time, the eddy caught the trail only a dozen paces ahead, barely giving her time to flip the blade.
The horse whinnied from the back of the line, and Malik called, "Keep going! There is an eel behind us large enough to eat Kelda!"
Takari laid a trail along the edge of the river and, when the shadowy ribbon did not swirl away in a new eddy, raced forward to give the others room.
"Given what the bog did to Galaeron, I don't fancy taking a swim in the river," she called over her shoulder. "1 don't suppose you've another way to cross, Melegaunt?" "Cer… tainly."
Melegaunt's voice was so weak and thick-tongued that Galaeron hazarded a glance over his shoulder-prompting Vala to extend a guiding hand as the trail rounded a bend in the river. "Why don't we use that bridge?" "Bridge?" Galaeron asked, confused.
"There's always a bridge," said Vala, pointing past Galaeron's nose.
Galaeron looked forward again and saw the river purling over a stretch of dark, submerged stone. At each end of the stretch stood ruined bridge towers, their crowns jagged and broken, their windows black and unbarred. In front of the near tower stood a hazy figure in plate armor, his hands wrapped around the hilt of a huge two-handed sword resting tip-down in front of him. "And a knight," called Malik. "There is always a knight." Galaeron drew his sword and heard the others doing the same, but Takari waved their weapons down. As they drew closer to the knight, it grew apparent he stood ankle deep in the river, water gurgling around his feet and mist swirling around him. His armor was coated in rust, while the face peering out from his raised visor seemed nothing but moldering bone and watchful, coal-dark eyes.
As they approached, he unsheathed his great sword and held it before him, the tip pointed at Takari. She stopped in her tracks and lowered her own sword.
"Well met, old Jhingleshod," she said. "Oft have I watched your wanderings from the Pale Ring."
"And there you should have stayed, elf. You have no business in the land of death."
"Not I, but my friends." Takari stepped aside and gestured to Galaeron. "They come in need of your aid."
"My aid?" Jhingleshod's black eyes shifted to Galaeron. "What aid can I give thee but a quick death?"
From the end of the line came a pair of splashes, then a startled whinny and hissed curse as the shadow vanished beneath Malik and his horse. Jhingleshod lifted his chin at the sound, but kept his attention-and his great sword-fixed on Galaeron.
"We have need of Karsus's magic," Galaeron said. "If you can show us-"
"Not we." Jhingleshod jabbed his sword at Galaeron's chest. "You. What come you seeking?" "I come to save-"
"Think well, elf," Jhingleshod warned. 'To answer wrong is worse than death."
Galaeron paused to consider the question. He had been about to say he came to save Evereska, but Jhingleshod's reaction left little doubt that the answer would not have been the one the dead knight wished to hear. Another splash came from the end of the line, and this time it was Melegaunt's voice that cried out. Jhingleshod paid the noise no attention and kept his dead gaze fixed on Galaeron. "Your answer? You have come far, elf-you must know what you are seeking."
"I do." Galaeron glanced at Takari, then over his shoulder to Vala. "Absolution. 1 seek pardon for my mistake."
A black light flared in Jhingleshod's eyes, and his skeleton's jaw opened as though smiling. "There is a boon 1 would ask for my help, elf. Will you give it?"
Galaeron started to ask what the boon was, then thought better of it. Jhingleshod would not react well to pointless barter. He demanded unflinching honesty of those who sought his help, and the truth was that Galaeron would pay anything to absolve his mistake. He simply nodded.
Jhingleshod's eyes shifted to Takari as though to ask something, but seemed to find the answer they were seeking in her frightened expression and looked back to Galaeron.
"Go," the knight said. He pointed through the rusted-out remains of a portcullis to the submerged bridge. "If you have the strength to reach the other side, I will do what can be done to help you."
Galaeron left the shadow trail and stepped through the portcullis without hesitation, but stopped on the other side. "My friends-"
Jhingleshod whirled on him, bringing his great sword around so swiftly that Galaeron could not have blocked the rusty weapon had he tried. The flat of the blade caught him full in the shoulder and slammed him into the musty tower wall.
"Go!" Jhingleshod motioned again toward the bridge. "My bargain with you is done."
Galaeron felt an angry darkness well up inside him and gathered himself to spring, but Takari desperately shook her head and flicked her eyes toward the bridge. Galaeron remained crouched, trying to fight down the black fury within. Together, he and his companions might be able to destroy Jhingleshod, but what then? Takari had said he could guide them to Karse, and Galaeron had seen enough of the Dire Wood to know how valuable such assistance would be. He gathered himself, and letting his aching arm dangle at his side, staggered through the cold water.
Jhingleshod turned to Aris next, and as Galaeron passed through the shadowed archway asked, "What seek you?"
Galaeron stepped out of the tower onto the mossy surface of a submerged bridge. Though no more than three inches of water ran over the surface, the river's purling drowned out Aris's answer. Reluctant to anger Jhingleshod by tarrying, Galaeron continued forward.
The stone was as slick as ice, so that even the shallow flow threatened to sweep his feet from beneath him. He sheathed his sword and dropped to a low crouch, carefully sliding one foot ahead of the other and twisting it into the mossy surface. He could feel the heat of his body rushing down through his feet into the water. A light fog rose around him, veiling the far shore behind a pale haze, and he grew dizzy from the cold.
As Galaeron crossed the midpoint of the bridge, the river changed direction and began to flow across from the other side. The effect was more than a little disorienting, making him feel he had somehow gotten himself turned around and was now approaching the wrong tower. He closed his eyes and continued blind until the current's new direction felt right.
Galaeron was nearly across when the purling changed pitch, and the water began to surge over his feet erratically A flicker of dark motion next to the bridge caught his attention, then he saw the bloated body of a drowned human floating on the surface, bobbing in place as the current pitched him repeatedly against the bridge.
Dressed in knee high boots and black leather armor, the man was bearded and large, with a crooked nose and skin as blue as his open eyes. There were no signs of any wounds or broken bones, though the absence of a helm and weapons belt suggested there had been time to shed both before drowning. Galaeron shuddered, wondering if the fellow had fallen victim to the river's life-stealing waters and simply fell in. The man's eyes rolled toward Galaeron, then a blue hand rose out of the water, stretching out as though reaching for help.