by Ellis Knox
“Help.”
Sennec glanced at Leuva and smiled.
“That won’t …” Leuva began, but Sennec cut her off.
“Thank you, Fist,” she said.
Sennec shook his head and ran his fingers through his dark red hair.
“Why river?” Fist asked.
Leuva’s eyebrows raised slightly.
“There is a bridge at the river.”
Fist nodded. He knew what a bridge was.
“But it is broken. We’re going to put this tree across the gap, and then the goblins will cross over the bridge and leave our lands.”
“Bad Bad.”
“Yes,” Leuva said, “very bad. We want them to go away.”
Fist thought so hard about this, he lowered his stick, trailing it alongside him.
“Bad Bad kill my village,” he said.
“That’s why we fix the bridge. The goblins will go over and then they won’t hurt our villages any more.” Fist thought her voice sounded like an animal growling.
He didn’t say anything for a while. The sun was warm on his back and hands, but it was not as comforting now.
“No villages over there,” he said.
Sennec snorted but did not reply.
“There are villages there, yes. And cities.”
Fist did not know what a city was. He supposed it was a kind of person, like a smith.
“The people on the other side of the river are called Romans,” Leuva said. “They have armies that can fight the goblins.”
“Armies?”
Sennec and Leuva looked pale. The old woman spoke, her voice cold and bitter.
“All our armies are dead.”
“Oh.”
He scratched at the dirt with his stick as he walked.
“Ro Mans,” Fist said. “Ro Mans kill goblins.” He was unsure if it was a question.
“Romans,” Sennec said gently. “We hope so. The Romans have conquered the whole world.”
“Oh.” Fist looked around as if he expected to see Romans standing among the trees.
“They’ll win, Fist,” Leuva said, “but the Romans can’t fight the goblins unless the goblins can cross the Great River. That’s why we are bringing the tree.”
“Tree flies,” he said somberly.
“Yes, the tree flies. We will fly it all the way to the broken bridge and lay it down over the gap.”
“Unless the gap is bigger now,” Sennec muttered.
“Hush,” Leuva said, “and the goblins will cross over. The People will be safe, and the Romans will kill all the goblins.”
“Oh,” Fist said a third time. Then he nodded. “Good.”
Leuva looked at Fist. She did not scowl, but he did not like the look.
“He could help us, this one,” she said. She was looking at Fist, but she was not speaking to him.
“How?” Sennec asked.
“He could kill a few, if needed.”
“Him? He wouldn’t hurt a bunny.”
“Bunny,” Fist said.
“Any creature will defend itself,” Leuva said firmly. Her eyes glittered. “We are friends, aren’t we, Fist?”
“Friends!”
She looked to Sennec, who shook his head, his long hair swinging across his troubled eyes. “You would use anyone, Leuva. Even the helpless.”
“I would,” she said, “if it would save the People.”
They reached the River Ister near sundown. Sennec, in the lead, halted at the top of a low hill, dropping to his knees. Leuva dropped beside him, then waved for the others to stop. Teias lowered his walking stick and the tree settled to the ground with a long sigh of branches. Fist got on hands and knees and crawled until he was alongside Sennec, who held one finger to his lips, then pointed.
Fist looked in the direction. The River Ister lay like a golden ribbon stretching from right to left, as far as he could see. From the hilltop, a low ridge ran down to the river with a small stream to the right. The ridge ended at a white arch heavy with shadows in the slanting light. Beyond the rise, little more than a dark line, stood a bridge. He saw all this only briefly, before movement caught his eye. Dark shapes.
He started up, but Sennec grabbed him by the arm tightly, so he lay down again.
“They’ll see you if you stand up.”
Fist tried to lie down harder. “Bad Bad,” he said into the dirt.
The three of them scooted backward down the hill. They sat in a hollow a few feet from where Teias lay.
“We can try in the night,” Sennec said.
“We can’t try in the night,” Leuva said. “Look at him.”
Sennec looked at Teias, lying in the shadow of the tree. Fist looked, too, but he didn’t know what they meant.
“He’ll rest. We need to try in the night, when the goblins are sleeping.”
“There’s no moon,” Leuva countered. “He can barely walk. If he stumbles, the tree comes crashing down and the goblins will hear.”
“Ohhh,” Fist said.
“It’s only a little further,” Sennec said. “A mile or a little more. Less than an hour.”
“It’s no good. We’re done for today. That’s all.”
Sennec started to protest further but gave it up. He knew that tone of voice.
“You’re as stubborn as your brother,” he said.
“We go away” Fist said.
“No, Fist,” Sennec said. “Not until morning. For now, food and sleep.”
Fist nodded. “Food and sleep.”
“There must be hundreds of them, Maybe thousands.” Leuva’s voice was steady, assessing.
“And more are coming,” Sennec said.
All four of them were at the edge of the hill, peering over, shading their eyes against the morning sun. Fist kept his forehead against the dirt, not wanting to see.
“So, now what?” Sennec said, after a pause.
“We go on.”
They all looked at Teias, who had not spoken yet this morning.
“How?”
“I don’t know how, I only know we do. I carry the tree. You figure out the rest.”
“Huh,” Sennec said. “How about I carry the tree and you figure out how to get past goblins.”
“Bad Bad.”
Leuva was looking over the edge of the rise again.
“Teias, do you think you can carry the tree to the bridge without resting?”
Teias raised himself onto his elbows and looked. No one spoke for a long minute.
“Yes,” he said at last.
Leuva looked at him, alarmed by the weakness in his voice.
“Yes,” he said again, stronger. He sighed and his voice weakened again. “But it has to be today.”
“Sneaking is out of the question, then.”
“Maybe not,” Leuva said. “We can’t slip right by them, but what if they weren’t so close? What if someone drew them away?”
Sennec nearly stood in reaction. “Oh no, no you don’t! This was a clever idea, if a little insane, but I’m not going to have you sacrificing yourself for it!”
“Who said anything about sacrifice? I don’t want to get torn apart by those monsters. I’m talking about causing a distraction, something to pull them up toward the hills, away from the bridge. There’s a shallow valley there,” she pointed to the right, “and we’ll pull them over that way. Teias would have to carry the tree low, but he should be able to stay out of sight until right at the bridge.”
“You are crazy. He’ll still be seen, and then he’ll be on the bridge with nowhere to run.”
“Not run,” Teias said. He had propped himself up and was fully engaged in the conversation now. “Not run, but hide.”
Leuva smiled grimly.
“I see the supports for the bridge. Once I place the tree, I can go under. The goblins aren’t likely to try to get there, and if they do, most will simply fall. They don’t climb so well with those claws.”
Sennec still wasn’t having any of it. “They’ll jump down
on those piers. Then they can leap up at you.”
“Not high enough.”
“You sure of that?”
“That’s why he’s bringing Fist,” Leuva said.
Fist raised his head from the ground. His eyes were big. “Carry tree?”
“No,” she said, smiling, “my brother has to carry the tree.”
“It flies,” he said.
“Yes. But the goblins will come, even hiding under the bridge. If they get under there with you, I need you to fight them.”
“Bad Bad.” Fist’s voice trembled.
“You can fight them, Fist. You don’t have to kill them, just knock them off. They can’t hold on very well. Knock them off and they’ll fall into the water and be gone.”
“Bad Bad gone.”
She took hold of Fist’s left hand and looked into his big, sad eyes.
“I need you to do this, Fist. Teias can’t do it alone and we can’t go with you. I’m counting on you to protect my brother. Can you do that for me?”
His eyes got even bigger.
“Help?”
“Yes. I want very much for you to help.”
He nodded gravely. “Help.”
Leuva drew Fist further down the hill and had him sit up, to look him in the eye.
“I need you to promise me something.”
“Yes.” Fist nodded.
“You don’t know what it is yet.”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“Listen to me, Fist. The goblins will be coming.”
“Bad Bad.”
“Enough of that,” she said impatiently, “you must listen to me.”
Fist folded his club hand into his good hand and placed them both in his lap.
“Teias will go down along the stream,” she gestured, “down low, so the goblins don’t see the tree.”
He carefully did not say Bad Bad.
“Sennec and I will go the other way, up toward the trees, so I need you to go with Teias.”
“Not you?”
“No, Fist. You go with Teias. Now here’s where you need to listen carefully. You stay with Teias. No matter what, you don’t leave him. He’ll go down the stream, then onto the bridge, then under the bridge, and you must stay with him all the time.” She placed her hands on his. “Do you understand?”
“Stay with Teias,” he said without understanding.
“Promise me.”
He understood that. He nodded. “I promise.”
She gave a shuddering sigh. “Say it again.”
“I promise.” His eyes were wide, but steady.
“Teias is my brother. He’s the only family I have left. You must say it again, so I believe it. Promise.”
“I promise,” Fist said, his voice quivering. He felt like crying but he didn’t know why. “Stay with Teias.”
“Even if the goblins come.”
“I promise.”
“Because,” her voice got cold, “they will come.”
Fist didn’t know what to say. He reached out and hugged her, patting her back with his clubbed hand.
The four returned to the stream bed. They ate some hard bread, speaking little. Then Teias raised the tree, keeping it low, and set out down the hill. Fist followed, casting quick glances back at Sennec and Leuva, who watched them go. Then Fist glanced again and the two were gone.
“Promise,” he whispered.
The sun rose higher, warming the ground. Teias kept the tree only a few feet above his own head. He had to scold Fist, who was so delighted at having the tree fly so near, he kept trying to jump up to touch it.
“Just walk quietly, Fist, please.”
Chastened, Fist put his hands to his side.
“I be quiet.”
It took nearly an hour to reach the river. The ground was uneven and while Teias didn’t stop to rest, he had to slow frequently to pick his way over stones at first and then through stands of reeds. Fist proved useful here, going ahead first and trampling a path.
The stream cut a deep ravine before spilling into the River Ister. Teias put the tree down here. He sagged to his knees, panting. Fist scrambled up the embankment, to peer carefully over the edge as he had seen Leuva and Sennec do.
He saw many goblins. They were a dark, milling carpet on the land.
“They run away.”
“What?” Teias called up in a whisper. Fist looked down at him.
“They run away,” he said loudly.
Teias groaned, then clawed his way up the steep bank. He needed only a few seconds.
“That’s it. She’s done it! Gods protect her.”
Teias slid down and grabbed his walking stick.
“Come, Fist. Time to go.”
The great fir rose into the air.
Fist looked again at the goblins, now obviously surging toward a dark line of trees to the north.
“Bad Bad,” he said fearfully. Then, as he turned away, he whispered to himself.
“Promise.”
There followed a dash to the bridge that was somewhere between a sprint and a stumble. Teias charged forward, wavered, ran for a full minute, then stumbled and nearly fell, had to stop. Sweat poured from his forehead and soaked his back. The walking stick trembled in his grasp.
The way was open, though, and the flying tree flew, and a few minutes later they reached the crumbling marble arch that marked the beginning of the mile-long bridge.
Teias risked a glance over his shoulder. The tree wobbled but held as he took in the sight.
Goblins. Hundreds of them. More than had been there earlier, and they were all charging the bridge.
“Follow me, Fist,” he shouted. “This is it. Last effort!”
He stumbled, caught himself, and tried to run. He could manage no more than an shuffling trot.
Fist started to follow. He ran several strides onto the bridge, but slowed and then stopped altogether. He had entered on the upstream side of the bridge, near the edge. He was now staring over the side at the waters that surged far below. A strange urge to jump over the side took hold of him.
“Fist!”
Fist shook his head, muttering “no, no” over and over. His good hand clenched and unclenched. He turned back to see the advancing goblins, then turned to the river, then to Teias. He was turning in circles.
Teias continued to stumble forward, unable to speak, much less shout. He was past the first pier now, crossing the huge arch. Ahead was the second stone pier; just beyond that, Constantine’s Bridge ended in a broken tangle, taken up again at the third pier after a wide gap.
Fist stopped rotating and stood looking across the bridge. The tree was tilting now, the trunk end sagging only about ten feet from the surface of the bridge.
He lunged forward, like a horse in its traces, and fell onto the roadway. The tree jumped forward a few more feet then slammed down crosswise, one end hanging several feet over the side.
Fist ran to Teias’ side and knelt down.
“Get up,” he urged. He waved his clubbed hand behind him. “Bad Bad coming.”
Teias groaned and said something. Fist had to lean down to hear.
“I can’t. I can’t take another step. I can’t even get up.”
Fist looked back. Goblins swarmed onto the bridge.
Promise, promise, he repeated to himself.
Fist slipped his good hand under Teias and lifted. The staff was still in the man’s hands.
“I carry you,” Fist said, “you carry tree.”
Hesitantly, Teias raised the stick over his head. The tree stirred, rustled, then rose.
Fist carried Teias the last fifty feet. Whether deliberately or from exhaustion, Teias dropped the fir. The great trunk hit the roadway with a shuddering thump. Up ahead, the other end also struck the bridge, bounced twice, then held.
Teias looked at Fist.
“Hide.” He could manage no more than a whisper. “Under the bridge.”
Fist shook his head. “I’m afraid,” he said, an
d tears started in his eyes. But Teias slumped again and did not speak.
Fist looked back. Goblins were so close, he could see their color, as well as their shape. They were leaping ten yards at a time, coming fast.
“Bad Bad,” he wailed, but no one came to help him and he couldn’t run.
Hide. Hide. Protect my brother. He carried Teias to the side of the bridge. He looked over, at the long drop into rushing waters, and wailed again and closed his eyes. The sound of goblin feet on the roadway pressed upon him like a collapsing wall.
Protect my brother. He clung to the words even as he clung to the side of the bridge. He tucked the inert body under his left arm and used his good hand to swing over.
Supporting cross beams stuck out from the sides, and one of these gave purchase to his feet, though it left him perched high in the air. He crouched and felt with one foot for the topmost arch. When he found it, he eased carefully leftward. The sound of approaching goblins grew louder. He edged further along the arch. The weight of Teias tugged him outward into empty space, but he slid his hand along the edge of the roadway. At last he was far enough along the descending arch to duck under.
Even as he did so, a goblin came hurtling past. It crashed into the water below and disappeared.
Fist shouted in surprised fear. They will fall, his friends had told him.
But then he saw a taloned hand swinging at him. Hide under the bridge. Under. He moved further down the arch until he reached a second cross beam. His heart was pounding furiously, not only with fear but with effort. To leave the arch and get onto the cross beam, he had to release his grip above, to grab onto a new handhold. He looked down. He saw water swirling in bright shimmers. The sun was still low enough, the shadow of the bridge was cast upstream from him. He wanted to hide in that shadow.
He took a breath even as a goblin leaped down. One hand grabbed and held for a moment. He could see its mouth open to reveal its double row of teeth, then it swung, lost its grip, and fell away. For an instant, Fist felt himself to be falling, too. The whole bridge seemed to rush past him. With a whimper he shifted his weight, reached, and caught himself. He was on the cross beam. He wasn’t falling. He was under the bridge.
With a small bit of confidence, he moved crosswise under the great bridge. Above him, thousands of clawed feet thudded. The massive timbers shook. Fist couldn’t cover his ears, but he began to chant, “hide, hide, under under, hide hide” to drown out the noise.