Blood Rites 5, page 27
“Let’s hope it never comes to that, Aria,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
She was quiet for a time, lost in thought as they continued up the path. Their feet crunched along the snow-covered pass in a steady rhythm that Lazarus found peaceful compared to the clamor of traveling with an entire army. He lost himself in the sound, thinking about what they were most likely to find at Castle Ravenhold.
Would the entire city be armed and ready to fight? If so, they would have a long siege ahead of them. It would require many trips up and down Nightwatch Pass with caravans of supplies.
Still, his instincts told him this would not be the case. He’d heard rumors that the settlement of Ravenhold, once a large and powerful city, had been slowly abandoned by its citizens over the years that Sanguiana held sway with their Queen. Many urbanites had fled to Stormhaven which, despite Duchess Talon’s corruption, retained more of a sense of normalcy throughout the darkness that had plagued Selunath. Queen Desdemona had courted a loud and frightening minority of people, chased away the commoners, and surrounded herself with people who did not question her poisoned governance.
“What do you think we’ll find up there?” Aria asked, suddenly, her gaze fixed upon the mist-shrouded peaks up ahead.
Lazarus sighed, wishing he had an answer. “That remains to be seen,” he said. “Our intelligence on Ravenhold and the surrounding areas has been limited and conflicting. All we can do is make our best guesses, and plan for the worst.”
Much of Sanguiana’s presence in Selunath had been weakened or stamped out since Lazarus had reawakened in the Shattered Citadel and began gathering a resistance against her. All across the kingdom, they had received letters from people who had stood up to the bandits and brigands who sought to undermine their independence. The dark actors, who had enjoyed such freedom under the likes of Baron Xander and Captain Ebonsang, had been chased into the woodwork once more—forced to work from the shadows out of fear that Lazarus and his men would find them, kill them, and string them up as a lesson to any others who thought to follow Sanguiana’s rule.
Lazarus was proud of the progress they’d made, liberating not only the Ashwood province, but Silvergrass Steppe, and Shadowmoor as well. All that remained was the Blackspine Mountains which, if Lazarus’s memory of the alpine region still held true, was likely to be far more divided than the other provinces thanks to the remoteness of its towns and villages, and far less willing to put up with any kind of behavior that endangered the community—life was hard enough for mountain folk without the added pressure of cultists and black magic adding to the struggle. He didn’t imagine there were many towns in the Blackspine who put up with the kind of behavior that had been allowed to spread and fester in the lower provinces.
All of this was promising, but would it be enough? There was no way to be sure until they got there and saw with their own eyes.
“I think you’re right about Valka,” Aria said, shaking him from his thoughts. “She is growing weaker. So is Sanguiana. I don’t believe they were ever truly prepared for humanity to fight back.”
Lazarus chuckled. “The gods have a history of overestimating their powers and underestimating the mortal races’ willingness to fight for survival.”
“If you cannot die, how can you appreciate how precious life is?” Aria said, her lips quirking in the corners. “Eslyn and Elysia have found my willingness to protect myself to be disturbing. They cannot understand how a healer could choose violence in the name of self-preservation. I cannot understand how they cannot understand. I am no good as a healer if I am dead, am I? Why should I allow anyone to push me down and stop me from my calling?”
“There are many things the gods will never understand,” Lazarus said, nodding. “I used to imagine I might become a god someday. My power seemed so great that it was inevitable in my mind.”
“No longer?” she asked.
Lazarus shook his head, watching the path ahead of them fade into a mere pinprick upon the horizon. “No. I see now what a weakness that power is. I could not live with the disconnect between myself and my people. My family.”
He squeezed the small woman against his side.
“So, you aim to destroy them,” Aria said, a statement rather than a question. “I wondered if perhaps this was just a threat, some bombast to encourage the troops. But you really are going to do it, aren’t you?”
“I aim to try,” he said. “And if I can seal the barrier between our worlds so that no god may ever enter the mortal plane again, I will do that too. We would all be better off to reject the gifts the gods offer us, to find our own way in our own world. There is too steep a cost to their attention.”
“I’m with you,” Aria said without hesitation. “And though Eslyn and Elysia will be sad to leave Selunath behind, they have come to agree.”
The didn’t speak anymore as they climbed through the pass, the only sound the echoing of their boots on the graveled, snow-covered trail. But Lazarus felt he could hear another sound as they ascended the mountain, the fires of hope burning in his chest. Hope and determination to do anything he could to satisfy Aria’s faith in him.
When they finally came to a halt, having climbed for hours behind the army, they had arrived at a temporary encampment. Soldiers had built fires, were cooking food, and setting up tents to get a bit of rest while they could.
Lazarus approached Rowan and Gideon, who stood upon a small bluff to the side of the encampment, their heads together in deep conversation.
“A bit early for camp, isn’t it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at the two of them. “What’s the trouble?”
Rowan, grim-faced, gazed up at him with her green eyes darkened in frustration. She pointed by way of an answer, and Lazarus had to climb the bluff in order to see what she was worried about.
He stopped, surprise pulling him up short. His breath formed clouds in the cold air as stared at the place where Nightwatch Pass should have been.
Instead, the mountain path had opened into a gaping maw in the earth. The crevasse stretched across their route like a dark wound in the world, a barrier so sudden and so vast it seemed as if the mountain itself had split in two to deny them passage. His eyes traced the jagged edges of the ice and stone, searching for any sign of a crossing that might have once existed.
Voices murmured as soldiers gathered at the edge of crevasse, peering into its depths and shaking their heads. The hole was easily thirty feet across, with edges that crumbled into the abyss below. No bottom could be seen, just the dark, seemingly endless void.
"Never seen the likes of this," Thaddeus muttered, coming to stand beside Lazarus. His gaze was fixed on the other side, calculating distances and possibilities.
Herschel joined them, his brows furrowed in concern. "This wasn't here before. Least, not recently. I know enough wanderers that I’m sure I’d have heard if the gods-be-damned mountains had decided to split into two ranges instead of one.”
Lazarus considered the challenge before them. The crevasse was too wide to jump, and the unstable edges made close approach perilous. "Valka's doing," he said, his voice low. "Her monsters weren’t slowing us down enough, so she’s decided to try something different."
The air was filled with the sound of the wind howling through the gap, as if the earth itself protested their presence. Lazarus turned to survey the trees lining the path, their branches heavy with snow. "We need a bridge," he declared, more to himself than to his companions.
Rowan nodded. “That’s what we were discussing,” she said. “There’s a malign presence here, that makes our magic less effective. With my increased power, I should be able to create a bridge out of roots and branches in no time. Yet everything we’ve attempted to build has crumbled after only a few minutes. It can’t seem to hold.”
“I believe it is because the force that rent the stones apart was not of this realm,” Gideon said. “I suspect that if any were to fall into the crevasse they would find themselves in a different world all together. The ancient powers work just fine here in the forest, but the moment we set foot within a few feet of the ledge, it is unraveled.”
Lazarus cursed under his breath. “Let's assess what we have,” he said. “We have tools for building siege weaponry. The forest may provide the rest."
Gideon nodded in agreement. "The trees here are old and strong, and I sense their desire to right the imbalance in these mountains. We will be able to help, but it will be challenging to work around the crevasse’s destructive energies.”
Lazarus gazed into the woods, considering the best route forward.
Constructing such a bridge would not be without its risks. The process would be slow, and every moment spent was a moment Valka's forces could marshal against them. Lazarus felt the weight of leadership press upon him. Every decision could mean the difference between life and death for his people.
"We'll need ropes, wood, and any tools we have," Lazarus began, already planning the construction in his mind. "Thaddeus, take a team and gather what you can. Herschel, assess the ice. We'll need to anchor the bridge securely."
The soldiers sprung into action, their earlier dismay replaced by purpose. They spread out into the woods, axes in hand, to fell the needed trees.
Lazarus watched them work, his mind racing through every possible outcome of their endeavor. The bridge had to hold. There was no other way forward, no other path to Ravenhold.
As the first tree fell with a muffled thud against the snow, Lazarus felt a pang of uncertainty. The forest had been silent up until then, its quiet now shattered by the sound of their desperation.
Gideon approached, his eyes grave. "This will work, but we must be swift. The magic in this place is... disturbed. We're not alone in our struggles."
Herschel returned from scouting the edge of the crevasse, his face set in a frown. "The edges are brittle. We'll need to reinforce them before we can lay the bridge."
Lazarus nodded, taking in every detail, every potential flaw in their plan. "We'll do whatever it takes," he assured them all. "This is just another ploy to slow us down. But Valka and Sanguiana wish for a confrontation as much as I do. This won't be the end of our journey."
He turned back to the abyss that lay between them and their goal. The challenge was clear, as was his resolve. They would build their bridge. They would cross into the unknown. And they would face whatever awaited them on the other side.
As the soldiers began to assemble the materials for the bridge, Lazarus organized them into teams, each with a specific task. Some cut long, straight limbs for the span; others strengthened the ropes they had, twisting and braiding them for extra durability. The air was filled with the sound of activity, the crack of axes, and the murmur of voices discussing the best way to approach the daunting task at hand.
Rowan guided the men in choosing the right trees—those that would offer strength without the weight that would make transportation too difficult. She moved among the soldiers, her voice calm and encouraging despite the tension of their predicament.
Gideon focused his efforts on determining how much of the druidic magic would be undone in the vicinity of the crevasse. He experimented with various spells, testing each over the bottomless pit, and making adjustments based on what he learned.
When the old man stood, stretching his back, and waved Lazarus over to see what he was working on, Gideon had a wide grin on his wizened face. “I think I have a solution,” he said as Lazarus approached, shouting over the group in excitement. “Come and see.”
Lazarus made his way to the druid’s work area and looked with a puzzled expression at the pile of twisted branches and unnatural looking vines at the old man’s feed. “Show me,” he said, unable to keep the bemused expression from his face.
“Whatever is affecting our magic seems to be able to sense large-scale spells more easily than smaller ones,” the wrinkled druid said, holding up a section of fresh, living vine for Lazarus to see. “This vine is something of my own concoction, like the vines Rowan and I use in combat. There aren’t vines simply growing across the Silvergrass Steppe, for example, but we can draw on the roots of the grassland, push druidic magic into them, and force them to grow and change to impressive size, as well as controlling their movements. This requires an incredible amount of power, though, and predictably, when we sent vines like this across the crevasse they disintegrated almost instantly.”
Lazarus frowned at the segment of plant matter in his hand. “How does that help us?”
“It doesn’t,” Gideon said, laughing dryly. “What it does, is tell us what doesn’t work, though, which is a step in the right direction. There are other ways that druids can affect living things which are far less invasive and which require less intensive spell work. Such as this…”
He passed Lazarus a twisted branch which looked more like two branches that had been fused together. “What is this?”
“This is a subtler kind of druidic magic, which the ancient tribes used to use when building homes and communities that were a part of their environment,” Gideon said, his old gray eyes sparkling with excitement. “The druid uses their magic to coax the fibers of one plant to interweave with the fibers of another, effectively allowing them to grow together. This allows druid settlements to create living houses, and I think it might also allow us to build our bridge.”
“This won’t dissolve in the vicinity of the pit?” Lazarus asked, turning the strange branch in his hands, not quite sure that the druid was onto something as big as he thought he was.
“I’ve tested four different fused branches and none of them have disintegrated so far,” Gideon said. “I’ll keep testing, but I think this is the way to do it. We can’t rely solely on druidic magic, but like you support your women, we can support the carpentry of your soldiers.”
Lazarus frowned. “Most of the trees around here are dead,” he said. “Does that affect your ability to cast these fusion spells? It won’t be a living bridge…”
“Not dead,” Gideon said, holding up a crooked finger. “Dormant. And actually, I think their dormant state might help us rather than hinder us. Plants and animals are more susceptible to magic when they are in a resting state. Dormant trees will also give off much less druidic magic residue after our spell work is complete. The only problem is, dormant plant matter will not grow…”
“So, this won’t help us after all?” Lazarus scratched his head, wondering if the old man had gotten bonked on the head at some point during their journey. “I’m not following, Gideon. I’m sorry.”
Gideon grinned as if he expected just such an answer. “Well, you see, druids work with the balance of nature. We cannot force a dormant tree to grow out of season, we cannot bring a dead animal back to life, we cannot create elements out of thin air—which is why we needed a torch or heat source in order to cast fire spells at the wooden golems.”
“Okay…”
“A druid can prompt a dormant plant to grow a certain way once it is active, however, which is what I plan to do to fuse the trees together for your bridge. I am thinking that your girl Aria might be able to lend us a hand with the next part. She seems able to transfer lifeforces from one target into another, even—though I’m sure she doesn’t like to do so—bringing the dead or near dead back to life.”
Gideon motioned Aria over to their group and the healer excused herself from her conversation with her apprentices and approached with a worried look upon her face. “This doesn’t look good, does it?”
Lazarus raised his eyebrows and looked at Gideon. “A moment ago, I’d have said the same thing,” he said with a shrug. “Gideon, would you care to explain?”
“My pleasure,” the old man said with a wink. He immediate dove into a complex description of what he needed Aria to do, which—given that Lazarus’s magic worked very differently from theirs—sounded a bit like a badly translated second language to the paladin’s ears. But he was pleased to see Aria perk up when she began to understand what he needed from her.
“I can do that,” she said, nodding enthusiastically. “You think it will help?”
Gideon gazed at the crevasse with a menacing glare, as if daring it to challenge him. “The more I think about it, the more certain I am. Come on, girl. Let’s try some experiments…”
Lazarus left them to it while he returned to the soldiers who were chopping wood under Rowan’s guidance. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her cheeks pink with the wind and her wild red hair in a wind-tousled tangle around her head. “Are they getting anywhere with Gideon’s plans?”
“Only time will tell,” Lazarus said. “But to my untrained ear it sounded… promising?”
He left his sentence hanging as more of a question than a statement, but Rowan only laughed at his uncertainty. “If we can get the base of this bridge built the old-fashioned way, I trust Gideon to figure out the rest. That old man has more tricks up his sleeve than a squirrel has nuts for winter.”
“He’s nuts all right,” Lazarus muttered, though he meant it fondly enough. The old druid had helped them out of more than one tight spot, and he was beginning to trust him as much as any of his most loyal associates.
Rowan grinned, a twinkle in her green eyes. “Just wait and see,” she said. “I believe in him.“
“Show me what you’ve got here, Rowan,” Lazarus said, indicating the lumber that was already piling up. The ranger obliged, seemingly happy to be doing something a bit more mundane than the spell weaving she’d been saddled with for the last few days of battle.
As Rowan showed him the pieces she’d chosen for the bridge, she spoke of ways she might reinforce the ropes, strengthen the wood grains, and weaving natural protections around the finished structure which she hoped wouldn’t be as susceptible to destruction by the otherworldly magic.
The construction of the bridge brought life to the soldiers that had begun to wane during the march and Lazarus found himself grateful for the brief reprieve from traveling and battling that had become their reality. It was good for the men to stretch their brains and challenge themselves in order to stave off the bleak depression that sometimes settled in on a long journey.
