They’d only been on the road for two days and one night, and not yet reached the most arduous part of their journey, and already they had lost people. The first to collapse had been an older woman Ellyn Rudge, who’d begun to complain about her hips within the first hour of the walk, until finally she’d given in and collapsed on the side of the road. There was no space on the carts filled with sacks of grain, and though they’d tried to convince the older woman to ride on top of the sacks, she’d cried that she was frightened she’d fall off, and refused.
They’d left her with some supplies and a blanket for warmth, and promised to bring her back on their return.
Dela still felt awful leaving her there, however. Who knew what kind of dangers might approach her in that time.
The next to fall on the wayside had been a middle-aged man, who’d tripped and done something bad to his left leg. They’d tried to fashion a walking stick for him, but his progress had been impossibly slow, and they couldn’t slow down to match his pace. Again, they’d offered the ride on the bags of grain, but they couldn’t keep doing that for everyone who was struggling. The weight the oxen were pulling was already huge, and they couldn’t keep adding extra people to the top. They’d exhaust the beasts and never make it to their destination, and that would never do.
It seemed incredible to Dela how a place of such beauty could hold such dangers. Between here and the Great Dividing Range which cut through the middle of their lands, the ground was flat and offered them incredible views of the jagged, snow-topped mountains. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only a few clouds gathering near the peaks. The climate of their kingdom meant green grass sprouted in every direction, and clear blue streams ran by, glacial water that was clean enough to drink right from where it flowed. Ever since she was a small child, she’d been warned of the dangers outside the city walls, of the haunted forests whose trees pulled up their roots and moved when you weren’t looking, and the ancient swamps that housed fearsome creatures in its murky depths, just waiting for an opportunity to pull an innocent rider down under the mud, but so far everything had been perfect. She almost didn’t want to have to endure the busy, smelly streets of Anthoinia again, preferring the fresh air and open spaces.
She was grateful to have Layla with her, and she’d formed some friendships with a number of the other Chosen as well. They sang songs together to pass the time, or told jokes or funny stories to lighten the mood and take their minds off their blistered feet and aching muscles.
Her mind was never far from her brother as she trod the same path he’d taken three years earlier. She knew he’d been lost at some point in the Southern Pass, though she wasn’t sure exactly where, which meant he’d definitely traveled the same road she was on now. She imagined her feet stepping in the exact same footprints he would have left, and the idea brought him closer in her heart.
“Whoa!”
The male voice came from the front of the procession. It had sounded as though it belonged to the older man, Wayneguard Norton. Norton had elected himself as leader of the troop, and no one had put up much of a fight to stop him from doing so. It wasn’t a job any of them wanted.
The carts all came to a halt, and the oxen snorted their displeasure at the change in momentum.
“What’s going on?” Layla asked Dela.
Dela shook her head. “I have no idea.”
The young man who’d been at school with Ridley, Brer, was also walking with them. Those of a similar age group had automatically banded together. “I think there’s something up ahead. I guess we’ll find out.”
The last of the carts drew to a halt, the oxen scraping at the dirt road with their hooves. Dela left her spot near the back of the group and moved closer to the front to see what was holding things up.
Norton stood at the front, stroking his beard like it was a cat, a frown causing the lines on his forehead to deepen. Ahead, a river rushed across the road, but a curved stone bridge ran across it, allowing them access to the other side. She still couldn’t see what the problem was.
“Why have we stopped? Is the bridge down?” She stood on tiptoes to try to see if she’d missed something.
“You don’t know what that is,” he replied, not looking at her.
“A bridge?” She felt like she was pointing out the obvious.
“It’s a Devil’s Bridge. The Devil helped to build it, so he takes one soul of every party trying to cross.”
Dela wasn’t even sure she believed in devils. Seemed to her, the Gods caused enough problems without them needing to worry about devils as well.
“It’s just an old wives’ tale. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Are you going to be the first one to try it?” he asked. “All tales stem from something, however much the truth may have been bent in the telling. No good thing comes from crossing that bridge.”
“Do we have any other options?” She viewed the river, which churned and foamed against its banks. It was too fast moving to try to get the oxen and carts through, and if the force of the water turned the carts over, they’d lose all the grain as well.
Their words were picked up and passed back through the convoy.
“What is it?” someone called from the back.
A second shout. “Why have we stopped?”
“Devil’s bridge,” a different person shouted back.
A female voice this time. “A what?”
“Cursed …” came the hushed whisper in return.
“This is crazy,” Dela said out loud. It was just a bridge, and in the bright sunshine, it was hard to imagine there was anything bad going on with it.
Leaving the convoy, she trotted down to the side of the bridge. The ground grew sodden beneath her boots, and she turned side on, her arms stretched to keep her balance. She wanted to get a good look under the arch, where shadows swallowed the bright sunlight.
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“Dela!” a male voice called out to her, but she ignored it. They could come down with her if they wanted. No one was stopping them, but so far she was still alone. Only inches from the tips of her toes, the rocky riverbank lay. Water rushed by, passing her to continue beneath the bridge and vanishing into the distance.
Dela leaned out, trying to get a better view. She didn’t know what she thought she was going to see, but she knew she needed to check.
Though the underside of the bridge, particularly the part where the stone met the riverbank, was shrouded in shadows, there was nothing she could see that would make her think something would try to snatch them if they crossed.
“There’s nothing here,” she shouted up. “It just looks like a regular bridge.”
“You can’t see a curse,” one of the older women called back.
Dela sighed and rolled her eyes. She turned and stomped her way back up to the road and jammed her hands onto her hips. “Do you have any better suggestions? It’s not as though we can just turn around and go home.”
“She’s right,” Norton said. “We have to go across. We don’t have any choice.”
Layla looked at her, chewing her lower lip anxiously. “It’ll be okay, won’t it, Dela? You definitely didn’t see anything?”
Dela shrugged. “I didn’t see anything, but my knowledge of such things is no better than anyone else’s here.”
Norton stepped forward, taking charge. “Okay. We have to go across.”
One of the older women burst into tears.
He continued, “If you choose not to cross, we can leave you here, but you’ll be alone and without shelter for many days to come. That’s your choice, of course, but you can’t blame anyone but yourself if something happens to you.”
Worried mutters went about the group. A few moments of bravery, versus days and nights on end alone. Dela knew she was going to be crossing. Not only was there no way she’d want to be left behind, but she wasn’t completely sure there was even anything to be afraid of. The sun warmed her shoulders, birds tweeted in the surrounding trees, and the water gurgled by. It was a beautiful day and felt as far from the devil as possible.
No one volunteered to stay behind.
“Right.” Norton nodded. “I suggest we keep moving, then.”
The drivers of the carts yelled, “Yah!” at the oxen to get them moving again. The carts wheels creaked, the weight crunching stones and dirt beneath them. The oxen snorted and stamped their hooves, but reluctantly started forward.
A hand slipped into Dela’s, and she looked over to see Layla’s pale face. “It’ll be okay.” Dela squeezed her friend’s hand in reassurance.
Layla nodded, but her expression was tense, her lips a thin line.
Dela’s chest tightened. She shouldn’t feel responsible for her friend—they’d ended up in this situation in exactly the same way, and they were the same age—but she couldn’t help it.
“Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Norton had led the way, taking the first steps across the bridge, while the carts filled with the bags of grain began to follow. They were a good number, and it would take time to cross. Dela figured she’d rather go quickly than wait until the very end.
She gave Layla’s hand a tug. “Come on.”
They exchanged a smile then started forward. The bridge was wide enough to allow them to walk side by side with the grain carts, meaning they didn’t have to wait. Others were doing the same, no one apparently wanting to be the last to cross.
The oxen grew more agitated than normal, needing some extra “Yahs!” and taps with the whip to get them across.
“They don’t like it,” Layla said nervously.
“It’s just the rushing water below them. It’s normal for them to be anxious about it.”
She hoped she was right.
They stepped onto the bridge.
It was solid and well-built. Those who’d first mounted had already reached the opposite bank and were now over safely, but still Dela’s heart raced, and her mouth grew dry. She didn’t believe there was anything to be afraid of, but her body was telling her something different.
They needed to get across, though. They had no choice.
Step after step brought them farther over the bridge. The oxen kept moving, snorting hot air, and others followed. The usual chitchat and song had quieted from the group, the tension simmering between them like heat.
They were halfway across now.
“Almost there,” she said.
A sudden scream rang out in the bright day, and Dela spun around to see who had made the sound. The oxen behind them spooked, their walk becoming a gallop, causing the man driving to yell in alarm.
It took Dela a moment to see who’d screamed.
A woman in her thirties, who Dela thought was called Huda, was on her knees, her hands over her face.
Dela’s stomach contracted, suddenly loose and watery, and her heart became trapped birds’ wings in her chest.
“Go,” she told Layla, giving her a shove in the direction of the opposite bank. “Get across.”
“What are you doing?” Layla cried in alarm.
“I don’t know yet.”
She ran back across to where the woman was on her knees. Others had backed away, clutching at each other in fear and alarm.
Dela dropped to the ground in front of the woman. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” She pulled Huda’s hands away from her face.
“I can’t see! I’m blind.”
Dela reared back and clamped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, by the Gods!”
The woman’s eyes were filled with blood.
Huda blinked, and blood ran in twin rivulets down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words, more blood appeared in a bubble between her lips.
Dela scrambled back in horror. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She had no medical training. Being the youngest child of two, she hadn’t even been there at the birth of her sibling. Could the woman have been ill before they’d set out? Dela hadn’t noticed her appearing to be sick, but this might just be a coincidence.
The woman’s ears were bleeding now. Blood, so much blood.
Huda coughed and choked and made a strange gurgling sound before falling face down on the bridge. Dela darted forward again, meaning to try to help in any way she could, but something made her stop. The bridge moved beneath Huda, the ground suddenly becoming wet, like sand on the coast. A few of the others had hesitantly started to approach to see if there was anything they could do to help, but Dela waved them away.
“Move back!” she cried. “Get away!”
The woman wriggled and squirmed. The blood seemed to mix with the brick of the bridge, which now didn’t look like brick at all. Dela could barely believe what she was seeing. The more the woman tried to fight, the less solid the stone she was lying on became, until eventually she began to sink.
“We need something for her to hold onto,” she cried.
But the woman barely seemed able to lift her own head, never mind drag herself to safety. She wasn’t even screaming any longer, but instead continued with those horrific gurgles until those fell silent, too.
The liquid stone rose up, like two arms on either side of her, surrounding her as though in an embrace, and then pulled her down. She vanished into the rock, and the moment she disappeared from view, the rock became solid again. Other than the smears of blood she’d left behind, it was as though she’d never even been there.
Dela stared at the spot, breathing hard and trembling all over. Then she turned and ran across the bridge to the other side and down the side of the bank to get a look beneath the bridge in the same place the woman had vanished. Could she have come through the other side? But no, there was nothing. It looked exactly as it had when she’d checked the first time.
People were softly crying in shock. Spilled bags of grain from where the oxen had spooked lay on the road.
Nobody moved or spoke for a moment, a sense of disbelief over what they’d just witnessed falling over them all. Layla cried into her hands, and Dela went back to where she was standing to put her arm around her friend’s shoulder. Her own eyes were dry, but her head was spinning. She felt as though she’d just walked into a nightmare.
She’d seen magic before, but they were parlor games—making something vanish and reappear, or changing a dove to a rabbit. Though she’d heard tales, she’d never seen anything like that.
“It’s sorcery!” someone cried, breaking the silence.
Another person yelled, “Witchcraft!”
Norton grunted. “No, the devil claimed his soul payment.”
They had no choice but to move on. There was nothing they could do for the woman now.
They would need to come back this way, and would have to come back over the bridge again. People set about calming the oxen and hauling the sacks of grain back onto the cart.
Dela peered into the distance, to where the jagged tips of the mountains rose into the innocuously bright blue sky. This was only the start.
There would be far worse ahead.