Tullah paused in absolute confusion as Zyll cocked the ladle back, then hammered the knife’s hilt with it, producing a resounding, ear-bruisingSPANG.
The sound that followed was loud, out of all proportion to what should have been possible, with a harmonic resonance buried inside it that seemed to build and build andbuild,reverberating between the peaks.
Tullah found her scowl again and began to advance.
Another arrow whistled through the air, blown off course and missing Zyll by only inches.
Kell and Marv both tried to catch up to Tullah, sprinting and stumbling respectively.
Then a terrible crack thundered through the canyon, and everyone stopped moving at once.
Snow sifted down in ragged curtains from the two towers at the end of the bridge. White powder suddenly seethed along the blocks of stone nearest the knife.
Zyll yanked Breadlee free and backed away, just as a long, dark line appeared horizontally in front of her feet.
From edge to edge, a section of the bridge three strides long dropped several inches as though it had been hammered from above by an invisible sledge.
Tullah began backpedaling, then turned and sprinted flat out.
The stone fell away all at once with a sound like an avalanche. Blocks the size of lockboxes tumbled into the chasm amidst snow and crumbled granite as their end of the bridge collapsed.
The far side, which Tullah and her crew still occupied, groaned as grit dribbled and blew away from its underbelly, held aloft only by one pillar still supporting the midpoint.
Fern watched in amazement as Zyll hurried back toward the horse with Breadlee in one hand and her mouth set in a line of grim satisfaction, red eyes blazing.
Another arrow buried itself in the snow just short of them.
Along the ragged gap in the bridge, Tullah paced back and forth like a thwarted cat, fury in every line of her body, while her crew gathered at a safer distance from the edge.
As Zyll arrived, wading through snow up to her knees, Astryx stared down at her. The elf’s right hand was wrapped around her belly to hold her bloody side, and her left used Nigel’s crimson-streaked length as a crutch.
They regarded each other for a long moment marked only by the wind in the mountains and the ghost of a metallic whine.
Astryx opened her mouth to speak—
—and then her fingers slipped slowly off the Elder Blade’s hilt, and she collapsed in the snow.
24
Fern stared at the elf’s prone form in dull shock as snow skirled around her knees and Tullah shouted something across the gap.
Astryx lay half obscured and unmoving in a drift that slowly pinked at her side, her hair riffling in the wind.
Fern was dimly aware of Nigel’s frantic cries from beneath the snow, and panicked noises coming from Breadlee. Zyll waded to Astryx and began tugging at one of her arms, to little effect.
These were things Fern registered as a distant observer, floating back and away and up into the silver sky.
A puff of vapor from Astryx’s lips broke the spell.
The Oathmaiden was alive, but the weather would surely kill them all if their enemies didn’t find a way to do it first.
“We have to get her out of here,” mumbled Fern, dropping her satchel and struggling forward to join Zyll, seizing the other arm.
“Must be turn-ling over,” said Zyll, her grin nowhere to be found.
Fern nodded and looped both forearms under Astryx’s left shoulder, groaning as she heaved. The elf was hardly bulky, but she was twice Fern’s weight, at least, and the sheath on her back fought them the whole way. Zyll dragged Astryx’s other arm across her body, and with much puffing and struggling, they managed to roll her face up.
“Be gentle! Oh, my lady, would that I had hands!” cried Nigel, his voice muffled by the snow that hid him.
