Bright beams from two full moons wash the lush grass beneath Derek's sneakers. Azor walks passed him to the edge of the cliff. The rope and timber bridge lies against the ragged rocky cliff's edges on both sides. The center sections of the bridge are tattered and ragged wounds. Scorch marks range up the remnants of the split bridge.
"Fireball," Azor's gravelly voice carries in the rocky surroundings. "These mountains are inhabited by bands of orcs and goblins. Adventurers come here to steal back the loot the tribes pillage from surrounding villages and the convoys they attack in the seasons of Grehororg and Bristorp." Azor stoops and picks up a long sword. The blade is snapped a few inches from the hilt. "There was pitched battle here. Adventurers probably severed the bridge to cut off a larger force of orcs or goblins from pursuing them. I hope they escaped with their lives. Their choice will cost us a day and a half of added travel."
Derek shakes his head, taking in the bits and pieces of previous battles scattered around the now useless bridge. A battered wagon, its wheels cracked or shattered sit atop a craggy stone near the beaten path. Derek walks to it and stoops.
Azor stares at the chasm, thinking. Azor's concentration flutters away like dry leaves in an autumn breeze as hears the tinkle of steel links. He draws Klage in an instant and turns to face attackers. Derek startles, drops the thick chain he is dragging from beneath the wagon. "Whoa, whoa, big guy. Just thinking of a way to get us across the chasm." Azor stands, feet apart, Klage held low and forward. Moonlight glints across the sapphire laced through his granite hide. "You do not know what a link crew, do you?"
Derek relaxes and turns to fully face Azor. "No.
Azor re-sheaths Klage, "Well, Golons are granite and gem from crown to toe. Long swords, spears, arrows are all useless against us. Generally, even war hammers and maces are a small danger to us. On the battlefields against humans, dwarves and elves we are a tremendous threat, unstoppable if fought conventionally. Link crews are how we are brought down. A group of men, usually eight to a dozen, swarm around a Golon and throw hooked chains at leg, arm and neck. I have seen my stone brothers fell in this manner. It will never happen to me."
Raising empty hands and stepping away from the chain at his feet, Derek speaks evenly, "I didn't know, Azor. I can understand why the sound freaked you out. I am glad you told me though. Now I can listen for the sound as we travel and when we are in battle. I promise you I will not let a chain game anywhere near you." "Thank you for that pledge, Derek. Kinewyn swore the same words and kept his promise to this day in our travels together."
Derek smiles, steps away from the thick chain links. "Now, obviously a chain used as a weapon, bad thing. I understand your concern. But follow me here. This is probably 35 yards of heavy duty chain. If we can secure this on the other side of the chasm, we can climb across and get the news of King Trajon's plans to Brugon Slace a day and a half sooner. Azor nods, scratches his chin with thumb and forefinger. "The sooner we reach Brugon, the safer his people will be. However, Derek of Clan Smith, I know from experience that without someone the other side to secure the chain it will not hold when we try to cross. The chain is hooked on both ends but the odds of either of us throwing a secure grapple from 20 yards are slim."
Derek frowns, walks close to the gaping emptiness between their location and their goal. "Take a look. Over that sage brush area, there is a down slope. The distance between this side of the chasm and that side is no more than five or six yards. If I had a running start I think I could clear that gap." Azor moves closer. Loose rocks chip under his weight. "Perhaps you could clear the distance, but the slope on the far side slants sharply into the chasm. It is only at nine or ten yards where there are roots and breaks in the ground that you could use to get a solid foot or handhold."
A quick kick sends a stone plummeting over the edge off Derek's sneaker, "I can't clear nine or ten yards."
Azor nods, "It was a good idea. Let's get moving. If we move quickly we can shave a few hours off of this day and a half delay."
Derek grabs his pack and follows Azor, "What would Coveark do if he were here?"
Azor stops, "That matters little as Coveark is not here."
"Humor me, please. Coveark is just a human, like me. He doesn't have Bryong's magic, the racial benefits of an elf or your strength. He would have to solve this problem with the resources I have." Azor turns back to Derek. "Coveark is a twelfth circle ranger. He trained for four years to be a Kings guard, thousands of hours of sword training, riding lessons, mounted combat and archery. He would hardly being approaching this problem with the same resources you have." Derek lowers his head, embarrassed. Azor has been open and fair in accepting Derek's aid. The Golon makes it clear now that he is not a replacement for his band mate. Azor pulls his thick feet out of the shallow holes his weight has made in the loam below him, steps into fresh ground, "To answer your questions, Coveark and I have faces situations before. We traversed a distance of five meter from a city tower to an adjacent building's trellis. Coveark came at the gap at a run I launched him after catching his boot. Coveark tumbled to a stop when he hit the roof on the other side." Azor smiles and continues on down the path.
Derek stands considering. "I can do that I can do that." Azor stops, "Are you adept at tumbling?" "No, no, I'm not. But I will shake off a few bumps and bruises and scrapes. Not a problem." Azor shakes his head, "Most likely you will break an arm or a leg. I will give you enough credit that you will probably not break your neck." Derek grimaces and ambles. "Wait," he steps over to Azor and taps the buckled pouch that is sewn onto the sling keeping Klage on the stone giant's back. "You told me that you carry a healing tincture to give to one of your band mates if they run out of to their own. If I break a leg, you can toss me the tincture and I'm good as new." Azor brushes a thick branch away from his path, "Your plan is dangerous and I don't think you have considered all of the things that can go wrong. In this, you are exactly like Coveark."
Azor turns and walks all the way back to the ledge, however. He surveys the ground that Derek will need to run along before he is thrown across the chasm. "40 feet of clear ground cover there. Don't let that one root break your stride. You only need to start the leap and orient yourself correctly - head pointed slightly above the point you intend to land at. Keep your knees tucked and your feet together. I will lightly throw you with my sword hand."
Derek quick shuffles his feet and throws a half dozen fast jabs. "Let's rock." Azor looks quizzically at him. "No pun intended," Derek laughs. Azor gathers the chain and throws a bale of it across the gap. It lays strewn across short scrub, unsecured. Next Azor chucks Derek's pack effortlessly across. Azor stoops on one knee close to where the cliff drops away.
Unencumbered he begins his run, knees pumping high, hands knifing passed his side. Derek leaps a yard in front of Azor. Azor sweeps his sword hand, twists his standing and pushes Derek out over the chasm. Derek keeps his eyes on the land spot, fast approaching. He consciously avoids looking down into the gap of jagged rock that drops for 200 yards beneath him. He lets his feet drift out in from of him. The impact is on him before he expects it. He hits hard and pitches forward to roll out the force and speed that warps around him. His shoulder comes forward as he intended but instead of rolling over and over, his shoulder snags, snaps and splinter on the rough ground. A sharp shriek of pain escapes him. Derek watches trees and shrubs and jutting rock tumble passed him in a chaotic pinwheel. His shriek is hammered into a desperate howl as he slams to a stop on his back. Derek struggles to remain conscience, realizes he cannot breathe. He feels his eyelids close and he fights it without success.
The stars are the first sight he sees; stark brilliant white points piercing a sky of perfect black. He looks for the big dipper and sees only constellations never seen by anyone of Earth. He remembers he is on Thrycion. Through his pain and shock surges relief. He settles himself and sits up. Azor is watching from across the gap, hands on knees. Klage lays flat on the ground at Azor's side, "You were only out
for a moment. Is you're shoulder broken?" Derek takes a tentative breath, "Without a doubt." He strains to make his voice heard across the gap.
"A bold effort, my friend. A bold effort," Azor stands. "I need you to get that chain around that tree trunk behind you and to do that you are going to need the healing tincture" The Golon carefully takes out small bottle from the pouch on his sword sheath. He makes sure to handle it with care. Derek strains, pulling himself painfully to a sitting position. He closes his eyes, waits for the nausea to spin down. "I'm ready to catch it." Azor shows his pug fangs in a quick smile. "What are smiling - achaugh, huff..." Derek places a hand on his ribs, "What the – ahhhh, oh - are you smiling at?" Azor shakes his head. "You reminded me of a close friend. Are you ready to catch the tincture?" "Does a bear crap in the woods?" Azor kicks a stone over the edge of the cliff, "Well, yes a bear does scat in the woods but it seems like an odd question to ask now." "Just throw the tincture. Throw it!"
Azor takes a step back, shifts and sends the tincture over the gap with a light underhand lob. The dark blue glass catches the rays of both of Thrycion's moons as it tumbles end over end. Derek blinks and locks onto the bottle. The weight of the bottle smacks into his thumb and he curses loudly as it bobbles between his thumb and forefinger and cracks open on the petrified roots behind him. Azor straightens, all trace of his smile gone.
"Aaaeergh! I cannot believe I dropped it," Derek wilts from the pain his exclamation causes. Azor walks to the edge of the gap, close to the chain that droops across, unsecured on Derek's side. "Derek, focus. You must secure the chain. If an opponent comes upon you on that side I will be limited in the aid I can provide." Derek pushes himself to stand and howls again as his shoulder and ribs protest. He lies down until he can collect himself. "I can't stand, Azor. I think I can drag the chain over to the tree and wrap and hook it." Azor nods, waits. Derek settles his breathing and begins crawling to the pile of chain. He must rest every three feet as he drags the chain half way to the tree. Azor assures him he will bring the wineskin in Derek's pack when he crosses the gap.
Derek groans, "Coveark would not have dropped that bottle would he have?" Azor answers. "No, most assuredly not. He would have caught the bottle and put it in his satchel. Then because he takes great joy in insulting clerics and bards as often as possible, his bad fortune would have set two dozen goblins to attack him on that side of the gap. Because he is selfish and brash, Coveark would fight all two dozen goblins on his own before he secured the chain to allow me to pass over. He would slay a dozen of them before drinking the healing tincture and then fight the remaining dozen, taking significant wounds to slay them. At the end, he would end up dragging that chain to secure it for me just as you are now. Do not be discouraged, Derek. You had the courage to try your plan and you are displaying the endurance now to complete the task, even after your plan failed miserably."
Derek's only response is to crawl faster through the second half of the distance to the tree. Circling the tree, dragging broken torso and chain over rock and root, Derek is glad his tears are hidden by the darkness. Derek fits the hook into a link and waives for Azor to come across. The Golon wraps the slack on his side of the gap around the tree and resets the hook. His traverse of the Gap is clumsy and slow, but the chain holds and soon Derek is drinking deeply from the wine skin. Azor has to carry Klage in his hands as Derek rides in a jury rigged sling on Azor's back. The two are attacked by a pair of rangers as they approach the nomad kingdom, Grenfell. Azor is forced to kill one of the rangers to break the other's spirit. They loot the corpse for three healing tinctures, 30 gold pieces bearing King Trajon's image and a gleaming short sword that hefts as though it were made of light wood. Derek walks with Azor toward the half-orc Brugon Slace's camp, equipped, blooded and certain that he will be adventuring until he is gray or fallen.
Chapter 13