Ryl’s heart ached at the news. Millis had been kind to him beyond expectation. His sentiment toward the tributes was a relief.
His absence would be mourned.
“Maklan replaced the competent leadership I’d installed with men promoted for their subservience to the crown,” Le’Dral continued. “They command through hatred and fear alone, their attention to discipline is poor. The loyalty of those who serve them is fragile at best. The habits that I worked for cycles to instill vanished nearly overnight. The guards have grown lax in discipline and respect in their absence. There is a rift among them that has grown deep.”
“Can we expect more support given your ... desertion?” Ryl asked. He was hesitant to use the word. Though he grasped at understanding, he couldn’t hope to comprehend what the captain had lost as a result of his current decision.
For what had he traded his life?
“At this speed, we should reach Thayers Rest before dark,” Ryl spoke, changing the subject as he ran an idea past the captain. “We need to care for the wounded that came with us. Let them sleep early. We’ll move again under the cover of darkness once the eyes from the Palisades have been blinded.”
“We’ll have to slow them down further,” Le’Dral allowed the small smile to cross his face.
Ryl clapped the captain on the shoulder, meeting his eyes with a grin.
“Vox, care to put the strength of the bridge to the test?” he called.
The phrenic nodded his head subtly before stepping away from the group.
“There’ll be no bridges left in Damaris before you’re through,” Ramm mumbled as the elementalist strode forward, eyeing the doomed bridge hungrily. A look of curiosity spread across Le’Dral’s face. Ryl merely shrugged his shoulders.
Vox stalked his way toward the bridge flexing his left hand repeatedly.
The wooden bridge itself was rudimentary in design, having only to span a ten meter wide section of the gently flowing river. Easily wide enough to fit a single wagon across its span it featured no railings on either side. Four large sections of timber spanned the gap, supported by a single wooden column in the middle. Crude, yet smoother panels were hammered down perpendicular to the beams forming the road’s surface.
The phrenic stopped as his feet made contact with the first wooden panel of the bridge. Ryl could see the air around his left arm begin to distort as the heat intensified. A moment later, the flames began dancing down his tattooed arm, crackling quietly as they grew. From a few meters back, Ryl could feel the searing heat as the gout of fire exploded from Vox’s arm. The long, thin line splashed like water as it struck the wooden planks of the bridge, lighting everything it touched aflame. With a second pass of his arm, the entire center section of the bridge burned as it was rapidly devoured by the greedy flames. Ryl, the captain, and the phrenics moved a step back as the heat from the blaze grew. Only Vox remained where he stood, though he wobbled somewhat erratically.
The snapping of the timber along the outer edge of the bridge heralded its downfall. With a deafening crack, the log split in two. The ravaged planks and neighboring beams, weakened by the fire that ate at their core, snapped in succession. The burning wood hissed, releasing clouds of steam as they hit the surface of the water. A few moments later, the last of the timbers gave way, splashing into the river below. Vox turned back to face the group, sunlight illuminating the satisfied smile under the shadow of his hood.
From both sides of the banks, the bridge had been destroyed to within a few steps from the edge. Though the water was calm, it ran deep at this location, making crossing on foot a precarious and tedious undertaking. The nearest shallows were many miles to the north. The nearest bridge was further than that. Ryl was satisfied that they’d bought themselves time.
But how long?
Without another word, they turned, quickly following their retreating companions. In the middle of the river, the center pillar, the lone standing support of the bridge, burned quietly.
Chapter 27
After razing the bridge, Ryl, the phrenics and Captain Le’Dral quickly caught up with the rest of the caravan that had slowed a short distance further up the narrow road. With their addition, the rapid march resumed onward unmolested, though the eyes of many frequently turned back to the south, cautiously searching for any sign of pursuit.
It was well past midday when they approached the small work camp. The last time Ryl had been here, he and Cavlin had slipped silently into the night. Le’Dral had set fire to the rundown boarding house—faking Ryl’s death in the fire. The new structure that had been raised from the ashes of the original, though roughly the same dimension, was a far cry from its predecessor. Ryl saw no gaps between the wooden planks that lined the walls, no poorly maintained repair used as sutures for an ailing building.
His eyes wandered the area before falling on the captain, who was silhouetted against the light soil of the newly harvested crops on Thayers Hill. Le’Dral had stayed true to his word. The work camp had been rebuilt with more care and respect for those who would inhabit it throughout the cycles.
Nearly half of Le’Dral’s guards had fanned out in a rough circle a few hundred meters from the camp. The line was porous yet would have to suffice; giving warning in the eventuality of an assault in the night. The others quickly went to work constructing a fire. A few of the idle guards even moved among the tributes seeking to assist them in whatever manner they required.
Ryl could see the skeptical eyes of the tributes following them as they walked through their midst. Like Ryl, their entire perspective of the world they lived in
