been at work there too, having cut through both beams with an axe. The support spans gave way and the entire structure crashed down into the thundering river below in an explosion of steam and hissing embers. He sighed, barely noticing that Roxanne was standing, leaning against him, still crying, her arm around his waist.
'I'm sorry,' she sobbed.
He held her tighter and gently wiped the tears from her face. It will be all right, you did just fine.'
He looked back at the bridge. They were trapped.
SIXTEEN. CONFRONTATION
The dawn was beautiful.
Tinuva, gaze turned towards the east, could sense that the sun had risen above the mountains. The world around him was grey, all of it grey, the snow swirling about him in drifting eddies. He remembered how his father had told him that when it snowed even humans could see the wind, and it was so. He watched as gusty eddies danced and flickered, a single flake pausing for a moment to hover before his eyes, a twirling crystal of light, the exhale of his warm breath causing it to dance away even as it melted.
'It is a good morning,' Tinuva whispered.
'What?'
He looked over at Gregory and smiled. 'A beautiful morning.'
'My friend, you must be addled,' Gregory sighed.
Tinuva reached out and lightly touched Gregory on the shoulder and the gesture caught his mortal friend off- guard for a moment. The elf said nothing. The voice within his heart, the whispering of the forest had already told him enough.
They waited a few more minutes, but no pursuer closed.
'They must have stopped to rest,' Gregory finally whispered.
Tinuva nodded in agreement and the two scrambled down from the low outcropping, remounted on the single horse spared for the rear guard and rode back half a mile, Gregory hooting like an owl to signal Hartraft's men of their approach.
The reserve was well concealed behind an upturned tree and they reined in. The six men stood up, pulling back their cloaks. Three were Tsurani, led by a Kingdom corporal.
'Nothing,' Gregory said. 'Fall back.'
'The road is just a few hundred yards beyond,' one of the men said. 'And there's hard news.'
'What is it?' Gregory asked.
'The bridge. A rider just came up. Dennis took it, but the span is down. Goblins led by a moredhel were burning it when he came up.'
Gregory and Tinuva dismounted. Tinuva said nothing as he reached into his saddlebag, scooped out a handful of oats and fed the horse, gently stroking its nose and whispering apologies for having driven it so hard through the night.
'We make a rearguard here,' the corporal said, his voice flat. 'Buy time for them to run a span across.'
'What about the mill there? We could pull out some of the beams,' said Gregory.
'The mill is ancient. The timbers are all rot and dust,' Tinuva said quietly, his attention still fixed on the horse. 'They'll have to cut down some trees, build a rough hoist and swing a span across. It'll take hours.'
'Then climb down into the gorge and ford the damn river,' Gregory replied.
Tinuva shook his head. 'Maybe you and I can do it, but the children, the old women?'
Gregory sat down heavily and cursed.
The corporal looked at the two. 'How much time do we have?'
'I don't know,' Gregory sighed.
'Not long,' Tinuva replied. 'They're coming.'
'Dennis sent just you back here?' Gregory asked, looking at the six men.
The corporal nodded. 'Hartraft wants us to slow them down as long as possible: every man is needed to cut down the trees, build the hoist and defences if we don't get the bridge up in time. One of us is to ride back when contact is made to give warning.'
'All of you go back,' Tinuva said quietly.
Gregory looked up and Tinuva smiled. He opened a small leather bucket, emptied the last of his water into it and offered the drink to the horse.
'You heard me, go back.'
The corporal hesitated.
'Six more men back there might make all the difference in getting that span across. We can handle this.'
The corporal looked to Gregory who nodded his head.
Tinuva said, 'Corporal, go. Take my horse – he's a gentle creature – fighting is not in his blood so be kind to him.'
'Sir?'
Tinuva patted the corporal on the shoulder and then pushed him towards his mount. The corporal reluctantly nodded and then climbed into the saddle.
'Don't stay too long, sir.'
'I'll be along soon enough.'
The corporal motioned for his men to move out and they quickly disappeared into the snow.
'You go too, Gregory.'
'Not likely.'
'One more against two hundred won't matter. You know what I need to do.'
Gregory stood up.
'You've been my friend, Tinuva, since I was a boy. I'll not leave you now.'
'It is between my brother and me now. I know him, Gregory: he has thirsted for this across the centuries. I will go back and he will know I am waiting. His pride and his lust will consume him and he will stop to face me. If I win, perhaps the others will stop, if not…' His voice trailed off. Then he said: 'Well, if not, at least the rest of you will be free and that is good enough.'
'I stand by you.'
'You'll be killed out of hand, Gregory, and it will divert me from what I have to do. They will not tolerate a human witness to what will happen.'
'No, I go with you, Tinuva.'
Tinuva stepped closer and as he did so he knew that somehow his countenance was changing, becoming something that he had left behind in these woods long ago.
'Go!' His voice was dark, filled with power.
'I won't. No!'
The blade flashed out as if it had leapt from its scabbard. The cut was a clean one and hissing with pain and shock Gregory backed up, holding his right hand, blood dripping from his fingers.
'Natalese, try and draw a bow now,' Tinuva snarled, voice full of menace.
'Damn you,' Gregory cried, shaking his injured hand. He tried to flex his fingers and blood dripped onto the snow.
'Go!' Tinuva raised his dagger. 'It'll be the other hand next time, and I'll cut so that you never draw again.'
Stunned, Gregory backed away, fumbling for his own dagger with his left hand. Again Tinuva leapt in and Gregory's dagger went spinning off, disappearing into the snow.
'Then the hell with you,' Gregory snarled. He backed up, trembling, his voice near to breaking. 'The hell with you.'
Tinuva smiled. The sense he had within was like a distant memory. It was almost frightful, this look of shock, disbelief, and rage in another's eyes. It almost brought him joy and he struggled against it, finally lowering his own blade.
'I want you to live,' he whispered. 'If you stay, you die. This is between Bovai and me, and you can do nothing.
