Out of the corner of an eye Orlon saw Roxx’s eyes bulge. The cook began to back his way across the bridge, pushing the cart behind him, casually and quietly as possible. And the Midget understood his motive for exiting the scene completely. If the Oaf found out about his cart, wherein appeared to be an endless food supply, they would never be rid of him, indeed.
"—they will proceed to eat everything. They will search through all the supplies 'til they have found every last morsel of food. Not leave a crumb behind…. Leave you to starve."
Orlon gulped, watching Chitintiare and Telluspett feed the Oaf strip after strip of jerky from their ever diminishing pouches. What lie ahead for them when those pouches were empty did not look good to him. What would they—what could they do to prevent disaster?
"Well, Orlon, buddy," Tarl said, watching the Dorks feed the Oaf, too. "It doesn’t look too good for our seeing much more of what’s out there, does it?"
There was no denying his best friend had a point. There was no denying their chances of seeing this quest through successfully did not look good either. He gulped.
"Blood spurts from severed artery! The bad dog flees from rolled up paper! Time flies away, draining away the chance of our quest’s success. Our quest must fly, too, to escape disaster," Ty the Parson said, arms and legs flailing,
He spun around, staff pointing the way, and started across the bridge
In quick order, the Party fell in behind him and quickly came face to face with a potential disaster of a different sort. It came when Chitintiare and Telluspett and the Oaf followed. With each step the huge man took, the bridge shook and swayed, and by the creaking and cracking of the wooden beams underfoot it was obvious the combined weight of the Party and the Oaf was too much for the bridge.
"Everyone, hurry," Shing took off at a sprint.
They followed his example, breaking into a sprint. And, surprisingly, so did the Oaf! This unexpected event led to a much more violent shaking and swaying of the bridge, nearly tossing members of the Party to its wooden beam surface, which was cracking and splintering swiftly. Even so, they made it safely across. All but the Dorks and Oaf looked back.
The bridge emitted an earsplitting moan, collapsed into the river’s rushing blue waters.
"Well," Tarl said, elbowing his best friend. "It looks like there’s no going back now, eh."
"Uh, yeah," Orlon said, not liking the sound of that one bit. "I guess so."
"The question is, gentlemen," Sharna said. "Will we make it across the next bridge?"
Orlon looked at Tarl, who met him eye to eye, then they looked at her. Then the three of them turned to face the bridge across the green river, which looked identical to the one they had just narrowly crossed. The Party faced their next obstacle as well. Roxx, still keeping his cart hidden behind him, waved at them from the other side. All looked from the bridge to the Oaf, still snatching and gobbling proffered strips of jerky from the Dorks, and back again.
"We will cross in groups," Shing announced, looking from the bridge to the Party and back again. "That should guarantee us safer passage over the river."
He quickly divided them into three warrior led groups: He, Ty the Parson, Grash, Tarftenrott and Expendendale; Sharna, Orlon, Tarl, Mishto, Rae and Brak Dugan; Marcol, the Grumplings, Chitintiare and Telluspett, and the Oaf.
"My group will cross first to test the bridge," he said, "then Sharna’s and lastly Marcol’s."
Thus the crossing began. Shing’s group stepped up to the bridge and…waited. Orlon frowned, remembering the same thing happening when they entered Dark Forest, and he remembered what they were waiting for then, which had him scratching his head. They waited for Chitintiare and Telluspett to enter first, presumably to make sure it was safe to enter the forest. But the Dorks were in the last group…. Then he remembered…
"All right," Expendendale sighed. "All right. Fine."
Grumbling under his breath, he cautiously took a step onto the bridge, a second step, and receiving nothing more worrisome than a soft creak, he strolled onto it. Midway across, a distance of twelve feet or so, he stopped, turned and looked expectantly at his group. Ty the Parson’s shoulders twitched, and he darted onto the bridge. Shing, Grash and Tarftenrott followed. The bridge creaked and groaned a little under their weight, but once they reunited with Expendendale, they spanned the remaining twelve feet without trouble.
They joined Roxx, and Shing signaled for the next group to proceed.
"Let’s go," Sharna said.
She and Orlon started across the bridge, Tarl and Mishto close behind, followed by Rae and Brak Dugan. Their pace was speedy but cautious, their ears aware of every creak and groan of the bridge. When they reached the halfway point it looked like crossing the bridge was going to be easy. That is when it happened! For reasons lost in the ignorant clouds that filled their minds, Chitintiare and Telluspett raced onto the bridge, the Oaf right behind them, snatching at offered jerky strips.
The bridge screamed under the pounding weight of the huge man’s dirty feet. Cracks shot through the bridge’s timber. Terrified, Tarl glanced back at the approaching behemoth and shoved past his best friend and protector, leaping to the safety of solid ground. Sharna regained her composure, snatched Orlon up under an arm and took off, Mishto Sharpaine clinging to her belt. Rae and Brak Dugan stumbled after them. And it was a race to the finish.
"Hurry," Shing called to Marcol and the twin Richtichtiares.
Marcol blinked, shook off the surprise that had turned his legs to stone. He took off across the crumbling bridge, the Grumplings hot on his heels.
First off the bridge, leaning forward, was Sharna with Orlon and Mishto in tow. Rae was close behind, Brak Dugan trailing along after. Then came the Dorks and Oaf, and when he stepped off the bridge the bridge collapsed as the first did. Hearing this spun those of the second group around, and what they saw dropped their jaws.
All that remained standing of the bridge was a splintered support beam swirling in a wide circle from the river’s center. On that beam, balanced precariously, was Marcol, a Grumpling clinging to each leg. The mercenary could not believe he let himself get caught in this position—that he had not expected those imbecilic Dorks not to follow instructions… That he let himself freeze in surprise when it happened.
With wild arm waves, he shifted his balance as best he was able, considering his twin burdens, as the beam swirled wider. Looking at them, he could not believe he would die with these loudmouthed tormentors instead of dying in battle like a good mercenary should. The thought of it was unbearable to him.
He would not let himself suffer that fate.
Around and around the beam swirled, wider and wider. He watched the bank get close, get far away, get close… The trick to saving himself was timing. If he missed the precise moment to jump, he was water bound, assuredly to drown. He watched and waited, and he knew time was not on his side. The beam might shatter at any moment. Around and around the beam swirled, wider and wider. All he needed to do was wait for it to reach a certain point and…
"Release me," he commanded, slapping the twin Richtichtiares away, and jumped.
A smile came to his face he could not get rid of as he flew free of beam and Grumplings. He landed face first in the dirt road, skidded a couple of feet.
Meanwhile, the Grumplings, having lost their support, clung to each other on the swirling beam. It swirled once, twice—and it disintegrated, sending them into the rushing green waters. They came up, sputtering, downstream a moment later.