“Which way?” he asked. “We can’t stop yet.”
Rose gazed toward the edge of the jutting ledge. Not believing her, Bradok looked into the compass and found the Seer pointing in the direction Rose was looking.
“That’s impossible,” he said. “There’s nowhere for us to-”
But there was somewhere. Nearly hidden in the darkness, a long, narrow pathway of rock jutted out from the edge, like the prow of some rocky ship. Bradok couldn’t see all the way to its end, but he knew it connected to the far side of the chasm, otherwise the compass wouldn’t be directing them there.
“There’s no way we can get Lyra across that narrow space,” Rose said nervously. “It couldn’t be more than a yard wide.”
“We’ll have two men carry her,” Bradok said with a confidence he did not feel. He took a step forward, but Rose caught his shirt.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Someone’s got to try going over to the other side and make sure it’s safe,” he said.
Rose shook her head. “Not you,” she said. “One way or another we’re going to have to convince everyone to cross. Nobody in their right mind is going to want to try if you slip over and die.”
“I’ll go,” Much said, taking Rose’s lantern. “I’m a much lighter fellow anyway,” he said, winking at Bradok and displaying his bandaged arm stump. “Especially now. Once I’m across, I’ll plant the lantern at the other end so you can see better.”
He took the lantern and started out, making his way carefully across the bridge of stone. Bradok watched with an equal measure of wonder at his friend’s bravery and fear for his fate. One misstep, and Much would plunge into the unknown depths. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Much turned around and waved the lantern over his head.
“He’s across,” Rose said in a gasp. Clearly she’d been holding her breath too.
“All right,” Bradok said. “You get everyone moving across while I make arrangements for Lyra.”
Rose raised her voice and gave instructions to the group while Bradok made his way to where Lyra and her new baby were situated. It suddenly occurred to Bradok that he didn’t know if Jade, Lyra’s daughter, had a brother or a sister.
“Thank you,” Lyra said when Bradok knelt beside her.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, blushing slightly.
She pulled open her cloak and revealed the sleeping baby, which was almost red in color with a mass of dark, curly hair on top of its head.
“You kept us alive,” Lyra said, beaming. “You made sure we were safe.” She turned back to the sleeping infant. “I’m going to call him Bradok.”
Bradok was stunned. So it was a boy and named after him. He didn’t know what to say, only that he didn’t deserve so much praise.
“Bradok!”
Kellik’s cry was heard above the crowd. Bradok stood and spotted the big smith on the far side of the group by the chasm, pointing at the left wall. With a bad feeling in his gut, Bradok saw that the empty tunnels that led to the narrow ledge were no longer empty. A dozen Disir had emerged there and were making their way gingerly along the ledge toward the spot where Kellik stood.
Bradok looked down at Lyra then at Xurces and Vulnar, who had been part of the group carrying her stretcher.
“Pick her up and get across that bridge,” he said. “Now!”
They looked momentarily skeptical until Bradok barked, “Now! Do your best!”
The two dwarves sprang into action, lifting the stretcher and pushing through the crowd toward the narrow walkway. Thurl, Perin, and Tal joined Bradok as he approached Kellik.
“That ledge is pretty narrow over there,” Kellik said, pointing to a spot nearby. “If we bunch up here, they’ll only be able to come at us one at a time. Our chances will improve.”
“Their reach is twice ours,” Thurl said, holding up his short sword. “We need longer weapons to keep them at bay and maybe knock them off the ledge.”
“There go our only poles,” Bradok said, pointing to where Xurces and Vulnar were carrying the stretcher. Even moving slowly, the two were halfway across the bridge with their burden.
“Use your hammer,” Tal said to Kellik. “Maybe you can break away a piece of the ledge, make it even more narrow for them.”
“That’s a good-”
“Bradok!”
Bradok turned to see Corin come racing out of the tunnel. “There you are!” he said with some relief.
“Here I am, but they’re right behind me,” he gasped.
Bradok swore. “Fall back,” he said. “We have to buy some time to give the others a chance to get across the bridge.”
Rose was hurrying the dwarves on the near side of the bridge, but there were still a dozen or so who hadn’t crossed. Just as Bradok and his men pulled back to protect them, Disir came pouring out of the tunnel.
Omer screamed and jumped away, but Jeni pulled him back toward the bridge. Rose shouted for everyone to speed up, and Bradok swore in frustration and pain as he jerked his sword from its scabbard.
At that moment, Bradok knew he would die. There were at least thirty Disir bearing down on them. His handful of tradesmen and merchants and one trained assassin stood beside him, as resolute and unmoving as any professional troop of soldiers.
But they weren’t soldiers.
They had no armor, no training, and only scanty weapons at hand. The Disir were relentless killing machines. It would be a slaughter.
The worst part, Bradok thought, is that there won’t be anyone left to make a song of it. In his heart, he knew the hardy band of survivors deserved a song.
The Disir seemed to hesitate a moment as their sightless eyes swept the group, the blue organs in their heads pulsating. One of them lashed out suddenly, slamming its blade-arm into the ground.
Bradok and the others raised their weapons, ready for the onrush. Instead, the first creature lifted its arm, so they could see that it bore a scrap of colorful cloth. With a sadness that quickly turned to a fire in his belly, Bradok recognized the rag doll Much had made for Teal. Omer had been carrying it ever since the girl’s death and must have unknowingly dropped it when he fled.
The sight of the monstrous Disir with the doll impaled on its ugly arm made Bradok angrier than he’d ever been. It seemed like more than a simple insult to Teal’s memory; it felt like a blow against everything that Bradok held as good and decent.
He could hear his heart pound in his chest as he tightened his grip on his sword. Whatever else happened next, he would do his best to chop that despicable Disir to bits.
“Teal!”
It surprised Bradok that the voice was not his own.
“No!” Omer yelled.
The young dwarf with the child’s mind ran by Bradok, knocking Thurl down in the process. He rushed up to the Disir, reaching in vain for the doll that the monster held just out of reach.
“Omer, stop!” Corin shouted, horrified.
The Disir jerked back its arm, dislodging the doll, then lashed forward, slicing it neatly in two. Bradok didn’t know if the thing knew it was just a doll and not a living child, but it clearly didn’t care.
Omer screamed, though he himself had not been struck. But it was as though he had gone berserk. A flash of orange light erupted in the space before the Disir, and Bradok had to cover his eyes. When it subsided, he saw Omer standing before the Disir, shaking with rage. His skin seemed translucent, and Bradok could see orange fire outlining the veins below his skin.
“You hurt Teal!” the man-child roared. His voice seemed to shake the very ground with its power, and several of the Disir shrieked in pain as the sound overwhelmed their senses.
With the casual gesture one might use to pick a mushroom off a cave wall, Omer reached out and tore the sword arm off the Disir that had so offended him. The creature squealed in pain and lashed out with its other arm. Bradok watched in horror as the tip of the blade punched through Omer’s shoulder and out his back.