The Coming Dawn: Epic of Haven Trilogy Book 3 Read online

  The torches of the remnant brightly lit the way, though their violet hope allowed them to see well enough to traverse the inhospitable landscape.

  “A bridge, he said?” Portus asked aloud.

  “A land bridge,” Celrod replied through grunts of pain. “And let’s all of us hope that this River Ithelum has not washed it out. I for one would prefer a shortcut right about now, and I doubt I have the strength to swim another river.”

  “Ah, you would find a way,” Timorets said jovially. “Somebody has to torment me each leg of this journey, and it would seem that you have been doing a right good job of it already. I would hate to see someone have to take it over for you.”

  “Ha!” Celrod laughed. “Well, I would like to see them try!” the large teacher said with a pained yet sincere smile.

  “Michael?” Georgina asked curiously. “What is a land bridge? Is it made of stone and metal like the King’s Bridge?”

  “I do not rightly know what it is made of,” he said to her. “I imagine it is a pass that stretches out across the river. I suppose it could be made of stone … but as our kind host pointed out to us, it is very old, and it might not even be there anymore.”

  “Oh,” she said in thought. “I hope like Celrod hopes too, then. That it is still there at all. I am ready to be wherever it is we are going.”

  Michael mussed her hair before he spoke. “Me too, girl, me too.”

  He looked over to the auburn-haired maiden and felt the heaviness of the brash exchanges of the Walha still looming upon her countenance. “Are you alright, Margarid?” he said cautiously.

  She nodded, though she kept her gaze focused towards the darkness before them.

  “I am sorry that they hit you, and that they spoke to you like they did,” he told her apologetically. “I wish I could have done something.”

  “You did what you had to do, Michael. I am not sore with you.” She looked him in the eye. “I am sad, and hurt, that there are still people like that in this world; holding on to ancient offenses, blinded by bitterness and hatred.”

  “I know, my lady,” he spoke softly to her.

  “This world is dark enough. If we ever have the hope of starting over in a new land …” she paused, collecting her words in the midst of her frustration. “I just think that those of us who are still left will have to shine what light we have together, instead of clouding any brilliance with selfishness or ignorance or hatred.”

  Michael let her words hang there in the tension. A swell of pride washed over his heart for her. “You are rather remarkable, you know.”

  “What?” she said in confusion.

  “Here I thought you were upset about the way those angry fools treated you, and yet you are more concerned as to how we all would treat each other.” He smiled deeply at her as he reached for her soft hands. “Engelmann would be proud of you, Margarid.”

  A tear rolled down her dirt-smeared cheek as she thought of the murdered sage, and then she smiled, laughing a humble, knowing laugh. “I hope so, Michael. I truly hope so.”

  “Water!” came the shout of Fryon’s voice from the head of the group. “I hear water! I think it is the river that the Walha talked about!”

  “Ithelum?” Michael asked.

  “I think so!” Fryon replied. “I have never been this far outside the walls of the city before.”

  The remnant walked hastily towards the sound of the rushing water. Their hearts were hopeful at putting more distance between themselves and those who had destroyed their city. Ahead of them, coming into view by the faint glow of their violet hope, they saw the rock-strewn banks of the river.

  “Ithelum!” Celrod exclaimed. “This must be the river they spoke of! What other body of water this grand, save the mighty Abonris herself, would cause one to name it? Surely this must be the river.”

  “Aye,” Timorets agreed. “For once I think you are right, schoolmaster!”

  “I’ve never in all my days seen water this majestic!” Portus mused aloud. “It must be three, no … at least five times as wide as the Abonris!”

  “How will we cross it?” came the nervous questioning of Georgina.

  “We will have to find the land bridge that the Walha spoke of,” Margarid said as she pulled her closer to her hip. She too was overwhelmed with the sight before them, “It has to be here.”

  “Aye,” Fryon agreed. “It looks as if this river could go on for leagues and leagues in either direction. I wonder if the Raven soldiers crossed here?”

  “He is right!” Michael exclaimed. “I’ll bet they did, but those Ravens couldn’t have crossed by swimming. It has to be here, the land bridge …. the Meinir, they called it. We must keep our wits about us so our eyes can be keen to its beginning.”

  “Agreed,” Harmier said. “We were on a path. It has to lead to it somewhere. Do you see any markers about?”

  They all split up in twos, each of them with a torch in hand and hope in their eyes. They began to comb the banks of the raging waters in search of a way across. Many long minutes passed with no progress, and it wasn’t until Georgina’s voice rang out in a squeal that any of them believed they would find their way across.

  “I found it!” she exclaimed. “I found the Meinir!”

  The rest of the remnant hurried over to the shrieking excitement of their youngest companion. Their hearts leapt at what they beheld along the riverbank. Granite rocks extended out into the depths of the rushing waters, from each bank and all the way across the river. On top of the granite slabs was a torn and trodden path of green, mossy carpet, wide enough for three horses to pass together.

  What was most impressive about this passage was not its dark stone, nor its thick matted carpets, but that the rushing waters of the Ithelum flowed not more than a handsbreadth over the top of their passageway.

  “Amazing!” Celrod exclaimed. “I would have walked past this a hundred times over, never thinking to look into the water for our way through. Well done, girl! Well done indeed!”

  “You don’t suppose that the THREE who is SEVEN fashioned this bridge when he sung the whole of Aiénor into being, do you?” Portus asked his friend and leader.

  “I do not know if he fashioned it by his own hand, or if he fashioned it into the mind of those who came before us,” Michael answered reverently.

  “I am not worried as to who made it or when it was made!” Timorets said. “I, for one, am just grateful that we don’t have to hold our breath over perilous heights just to reach the other side this time!”

  The lot of them laughed a nervous, relieved laugh.

  “True enough,” Michael said with concern on his furrowed brow. “Easy as it may seem, though, let’s not forget to use caution when we cross. There are strange things in these even stranger lands, things we may not see at first glance.”

  “He is right,” Fryon agreed. “The water is cold, and it moves rather swiftly.”

  “And I wouldn’t doubt that the moss might be as slick as a newborn foal,” Michael agreed.

  “We should all still keep hold of each other,” Margarid chimed it. “We have gotten this far together… let’s not forget that part now.” She reached down for the small, slender hand of the youngest member of their tribe, taking it with a motherly squeeze as she spoke. “You will walk with me, alright?”

  Georgina squeezed her hand in reply and nodded an excited smile to her friend and protector. “I will, Margarid. I will.”

  “Fryon?” Michael asked without needing to.

  “Aye,” he answered. “Come on, brother … you and I will take the van again.”

  The two brothers held their torches and cinched their packs tight upon their backs, setting out upon the land bridge ahead of their friends. It was a sight to behold, the two flickering flames of the fearless scouts, floating ghostlike above the cold, rushing waters amidst the violet haze of their seasoned hope.

  “How far do you think it is, Michael?” Margarid asked as she leaned into his strong shoulder. “
I can’t see the other bank.”

  “I am not sure if that is just because the Ithelum is that large, or if the damn darkness is just this … well, dark,” he replied.

  “As long as the path stretches ahead of us,” Georgina replied, eavesdropping on their worried conversation, “it doesn’t really matter if we can see the other side or not. Does it?”

  Michael reached down, and with a surprised smile he patted the wise child’s messy hair. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

  BOOM.

  The sound of something solid and heavy colliding with the ground beneath them echoed into the darkness. The eyes of the remnant went wide, and the two flames of Fryon and his brother disappeared.

  “What was that?” Portus asked.

  “Did you hear where it came from? Which direction I mean?” Celrod asked nervously.

  “Is it the dragons?” Harmier asked, the chill of fright frosting over his usually confident voice. “Are they coming for us? Did they find our trail?”

  BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

  Three more massive blows rang out, like a mighty hammer upon an anvil.

  “I can’t make out the direction,” Timorets worried aloud.

  “Come on then, let us not tarry a moment longer!” Michael urged his friends. “We need to get across this river, now!”

  “But what if the sound is coming from the other side?” Timorets asked.

  Michael looked behind them at the black mass of inhospitable mountain lands, and back in the direction of the desolated city that once thrived in its protective bosom. He weighed the danger ahead against the devastation they had left behind.

  “There is no life for us on the ruined bank behind us and yet there still may be life for us on the other side of these unknown waters,” he whispered to them in a passionate, hushed voice.

  BOOM! The rumbling reverberation sounded again.

  “Michael?” came Margarid’s frightened voice.

  “We know what monsters hunt us, do we not?” he asked the group. “We are no match for dragons and ravens.”

  BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! The same, nerve-rattling rhythm shook them yet again.

  “And over there, Michael?” Harmier pointed across the cold rushing waters of the kingly river. “What monsters wait for us?”

  “We know nothing about over there, Harmier, monstrous or otherwise,” Michael said as he pulled tight the leather straps of his pack.

  “And that is what I am afraid of, Michael!” Harmier argued.

  “Aye,” the groomsman acknowledged. “There is plenty to be fearful of, but there is also some to be hopeful for. The unknown isn’t always the enemy.” He took his first step upon the water-covered pathway. “It could also be our refuge from the monsters we have been so afraid of.”

  BOOM! The pounding came again.

  “Come on, then!” Michael said, braver than he felt. “Let’s see what lies on the other side of this unknown.”

  “Come on, then,” Portus echoed, clasping a heavy hand on the schoolmaster’s shoulder. “He is right.”

  “Aye,” Celrod agreed as he swallowed back his own reservations.

  Hands were held in eerie similarity, a poetic reflection of a not-so-distant passage. And though their peril this time was not in them falling into the doom of an abyss below, danger swirled about each soggy step, a fearsome current threatening to snatch them from their passage.

  They came upon the brothers, still somewhere in the midst of the land bridge, waiting on their comrades. “How much further do you think?” Margarid called to them atop the sound of the water.

  BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! Three beats, again.

  “I would say we are halfway, maybe a bit more than that.” Fryon surmised. “Is everyone alright?”

  “Aye,” Celrod agreed. “Almost too alright.”

  “Seems too easy,” Timorets mused.

  BOOM!

  “Agreed!” Harmier said. “Like we are walking right into the jaws of the monster itself.”

  “I, for one, will not argue with an easy passage, we have had more than our share of treacherous ones!” Portus argued.

  “We are not done yet, though,” Michael said. “Can you see anything out there? Any movement? Any idea where that sound is coming from?”

  “No,” Fryon answered. “It is too dark to tell. And the sound … it bounces off the water, so I can’t make any sense of it.”

  Michael squinted hard, peering out through the faint violet glow into the unknown beyond, desperately willing something, anything to come into focus.

  BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

  “It’s in a pattern,” Georgina said thoughtfully. “Once, then thrice, over and over again.”

  “She’s right,” Margarid said. “What could that mean? It must be something … on purpose!”

  “Let’s not wait like a school of huddled fish for whatever net is being readied to catch us,” Timorets said. “I say we be quick about this crossing! At least that way we can run and hide if we need to.”

  “The brewer is right you know.” Harmier said as he kissed the flint that still hung from his neck. “We decided to go. Let’s get on with it.”

  Torches were held aloft, and hands were held tight as the sound of boots slogging through the cold wet of the Ithelum accompanied the nervous rhythm of their beating hearts and the ominous sound of whatever pounded against the ground.

  “There!” Fryon shouted in a hushed whisper. “I see the bank, just ahead!”

  “I told you it would stretch!” Georgina said as she squeezed Margarid’s hand.

  “That you did, love … that you did indeed,” the lady replied with a guarded smile.

  It wasn’t long before the whole of the remnant had made it to the pebble-strewn bank of the kingly river. The sounds of the booming had ceased for the moment and the silence of their arrival unnerved even the bravest of their lot.

  “Do you hear that?” Celrod asked in a whisper.

  “Hear what?” Timorets asked his large friend.

  “Exactly,” the schoolmaster answered. “I don’t hear a damned thing!”

  “Is that bad?” Georgina asked innocently.

  “That is hard to say,” Margarid spoke honestly. “It could mean that there is nothing here to make a noise.”

  “And that would be good, right?” she asked.

  “Or it could mean that whatever is here is lying in wait, ready to fall on us unawares!” Harmier said fearfully.

  “It doesn’t have to mean either,” Michael said without emotion. “But it does mean something—”

  His words were cut off as Fryon raised his finger to his lips. He pointed to the ground before them, and they glimpsed the traces of hundreds, thousands of footprints that had disturbed the terrain around them.

  “They came this way? By way of the Meinir?” Margarid asked.

  “Who came?” Georgina asked.

  “The Ravens did,” Portus answered. “See, look there!”

  Not a hundred paces from the entrance to the land bridge were broken helms, shields, and the black-blooded, decaying bodies of the fallen enemy.

  “What happened here?” Harmier asked. “Who would have fought them this far from the city?”

  “Surely Armas and his men did not venture so far from the Northern wall,” Timorets mused.

  “No. It wasn’t our guardsmen who fought them,” Fryon replied.

  “He is right. There are no remains of their bodies, no green cloaks or cloven helms,” Celrod agreed.

  “And no horses … no fallen horses,” Michael said as he bent down to closer examine the ground below.

  “Could it have been the Walha?” Harmier asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. They seemed genuinely surprised to hear of the enemy,” Celrod said.

  “Who then?” Margarid asked excitedly. “Who would have fought them out here? Maybe they are friendly; maybe we could take refuge with them?”

  “I don’t think it is a who that fought here,” Michael said as he beckoned Fryon over to ex
amine what had just caught his eye.

  “What do you mean, groomsman?” Timorets asked gravely.

  “I think the question is what fought them here,” Michael said as he pointed down to an enormous footprint that spanned the entire, broken body of a fallen raven warrior.

  BOOM! The sound came again, this time louder and closer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Cal!” the worried whisper of his Sprite friend woke the groomsman from his rest. “Cal! Wake up, my friend.”

  Cal rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand while reaching swiftly for his sword, Gwarwyn, with the other. “What is it, Deryn? What troubles you?”

  “I hear a voice upon the wind, there to the east, beyond the thicket,” the Sprite pointed off into the distance.

  “What kind of voice?” Cal asked, now standing to his feet.

  “A young voice, or so it seems to my ears. I don’t sense danger, yet I am wary of it,” Deryn told him.

  “Aye,” Cal said as he looked out into the distance. “I cannot see anything. Should we go look?”

  Just as the words came from his mouth, a deep, guttural growl stole the air from his very lungs. Astyræ woke at the menacing sound, her violet eyes immediately searching the faces of her two companions for assurance or warning.

  “You let me alone!” came a voice from the darkness. “Be gone, get rid of you!” The sound of breaking bramble and thudding stones told the story of the moment to all who would hear. “No! Let me alone!” and then again, the thud of thrown rocks punctuated the plea.

  “Well, come on then,” Cal told them. “We can’t just let whoever that is be eaten by whatever that is out there.”

  “But we don’t know who or what they are!” Astyræ argued.

  “And I didn’t know who or what was crying in that old tower cell of yours either, did I?” Cal said, his sword held at the ready. “And look just how well that turned out.”

  “Stop it! Let me alone!” came the cry again. “Please!”

  “Come on,” Cal said, the playfulness all but gone from his eyes, replaced with the urgency of rescue. He leapt atop Farran, and Astyræ atop her chestnut, and they rode off in search of the frightened voice.