James rides in silence as he thinks about what Jiron had told him.
“How or why they came to aid us, we’ll never know,” Jiron continues. “I would expect something like this has been planned for some time, seeing as how they escaped their pens so readily. You just gave them the excuse.” When James glances over to him, he adds, “This was going to happen anyway, I expect. So don’t take it so personally.”
Sighing, James says, “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” he insists. “If you take personally the decisions of others, you’ll be carrying the weight of an enormous amount of guilt. You didn’t ask them to fight and die back there, they volunteered knowing full well what their fate would be. I honor their choice to die as men, not slaves.”
Taking a deep breath, James gets his emotions under control and replies, “Maybe Perrilin will make a song about them?”
“Probably,” he agrees. “People like songs about hopeless struggles for a good cause.”
“I’ll tell him all about it next time I see him,” he says. He feels better having decided a course of action with which he can honor their sacrifice.
“Now,” says Jiron, “we have to figure out how to get back to Cardri.” Glancing to James he adds, “Providing of course we’re going back to Cardri?”
“Yes,” replies James. “We’re going home.”
“Good,” states Jiron. “By morning we should be at that town up ahead with the bridge we passed on the way down. Somehow, we need to cross it.”
“Let’s push a little harder so we can make it before dawn,” suggests James. “Hopefully we can make it across before it gets light.”
With that, they both increase their speed to a gallop. Over the course of the next several hours, they alternate speeds between a fast gallop and a trop for optimum speed while at the same time saving their horses’ strength. They could well need it when they get there.
An hour into their ride, Jiron asks, “How far away can you sense magic?”
“I don’t know,” replies James, “half a mile or so, maybe a mile. Why?”
“Oh, I was just thinking of that mage you said you detected at the town north of the one we’re heading for,” he explains. “I was worried he may have sensed what you did back at Saragon.”
“I doubt it,” James assures him. “I didn’t do anything very strong.”
“That’s a relief,” he says.
After several more hours of riding, the sky to the east has begun to lighten with the approach of dawn, and still the town has not appeared. Worried about not making it in time, they increase their speed.
It isn’t until the sun crests the horizon that the town finally appears before them in the distance. “Now what?” James asks.
The town still has a garrison of soldiers, a hundred or so from the looks of it. Two stand guard on the bridge, dashing their hopes of easily making it across undetected.
“We could still try,” suggests Jiron. “If you blew up the bridge after we crossed it, it wouldn’t matter whether they discovered us or not. They would be unable to follow.”
“True,” he says. “But something that big would most likely alert whoever was up in Pleasant Meadows.”
“That’s over a day away,” counters Jiron. “Whether he did or not would doubtless make a difference. We’d be over in Cardri before whoever it is could get here to do anything anyway.”
“Very well,” he agrees. “But I’m going to need a moment close to the bridge to make it work.”
“I’ll give you that moment,” he tells him.
As they approach the outskirts of town, they slow to a normal pace so as not to draw attention to themselves. Some of the soldiers begin to take notice of them coming up the road but don’t seem to be too concerned. After all, they’re coming from the south which is totally controlled by the Empire. And what enemy in their right mind would casually ride up to a garrisoned town in broad daylight.
As they near the first building, a soldier hails them with a smile and a friendly wave. “Now!” says Jiron and they kick their horses as they turn off the road. The soldier’s smile quickly vanishes in confusion as he watches them begin racing around the town toward the bridge. He yells something to them as they race away and then raises a horn to his lips.
Rounding the last building before the open space between the town and the bridge, they hear a horn sound behind them. The guards on the bridge look their way and see them riding fast toward them. They form up at the foot of the bridge and one of them calls something to them, most likely a command to stop. When they fail to heed his command, he and the other soldier draw their weapons and stand ready to greet them.
“Do what you have to,” yells Jiron. “I’ll take out the guards.”
Riding hard, Jiron pulls ahead of James and aims his horse straight for the two waiting soldiers at the foot of the bridge. They stand to block his path, one again shouting something unintelligible at him. Just before he reaches the beginning of the bridge, the two guards dive to the side to avoid being caught under his horse’s hooves.
Bringing his horse to an abrupt halt, Jiron vaults from the saddle and his two knives are in hand before he lands on the ground.
The guard on the right sees him coming toward him and strikes out with his sword. Jiron deflects it and follows through with his other knife, barely missing his shoulder as the man twists away.
From behind him, he hears the other soldier approaching and sidesteps quickly just as the soldier’s sword pierces the space he had just vacated. Lashing out with his foot, he catches the man behind him in the chest and knocks him backward.
Pressing the man in front of him, he feints a thrust at the man’s face. When the soldier raises his sword protectively, he strikes out with his other knife and takes him in the belly. Crying out, the man steps backward where he hits the railing of the bridge and then tumbles over into the river below.
Jiron hears the splash as he turns to face the remaining man. From town, a large group of soldiers are on the way, as well as several mounted horsemen riding hard from the center of town. More horns sound as they begin marshalling their forces.
Twisting to the right, he avoids an overhand hack by the soldier and then lashes out with his right knife, scoring a long cut on the man’s forearm.
“Ready!” he hears James yell and a quick glance shows him getting back on his horse.
Striking out with his foot, he knocks the soldier off balance as he races for his own horse waiting nearby. Jumping into the saddle, he kicks it into a quick gallop as he and James race off the other side.
He looks back to the bridge just as the horsemen gain the center and then…
Crumph!
…the entire central span of the bridge explodes outward, throwing stone, horses and men into the air. They pause a moment to wait for the dust to clear and when it does finds that James has created a twelve foot gap in the bridge.
The soldiers on the other side come to a startled stop as debris begins raining down upon them. Jiron watches as a dead, mangled horse falls and crushes two soldiers who hadn’t moved quickly enough.
“That should do it,” he says to James.
Looking tired, James replies, “I hope so.”
Getting their horse back up to speed, they follow the road as they leave the town and the broken bridge behind them.
Two men stand before the large basin of dark water. An image plays across its surface, a ruined bridge and two men on horseback riding away. One man is armored head to toe with a large sword hanging at his hip. Cruel eyes gaze from within the dark helm, rage practically oozing from every pore of his being.
The other man next to him wears a red robe, the hooded cowl hiding his features. He can feel the rage of the man next to him and prays that it will not be directed at him.
Suddenly, the door to the room where they stand before the basin opens and one of the armored man’s acolytes enters.