by V M Jones
He was right — there was no trace of a bridge anywhere. Cautiously, I leaned as far out as I dared and peered over the drop. Nothing. Scanned the banks: still no sign.
‘I guess with all this water around, it must have rotted away,’ said Jamie gloomily.
‘Unless …’ The dreamy look was back in Gen’s eyes, and Rich watched her warily. ‘Unless the rainbow …’
‘Unless the rainbow what?’
She gave him an embarrassed smile. ‘Nothing — sorry. I’m just being stupid.’
‘Well,’ piped up Hannah, ‘do you want to know what I think? I think that’s the bridge.’
‘What? Where?’ We all stared wildly round, hoping a swing-bridge had magically materialised out of nowhere.
‘There.’ Hannah pointed — and I realised with a lurch of horror what she meant … and that she was right. She was pointing at the rainbow.
‘It can’t be,’ whispered Kenta. But we knew it was.
I felt as if my stomach was in vertical free-fall along with the water. ‘If it is,’ I croaked, ‘if Hannah’s right — we need to move fast. Look at the angle of the sun. It’s not going to be around for long, and once it’s gone …’ I gulped.
Jamie was looking green. ‘And then there are the clouds …’
Weevil made a soft chittering sound — or it could just have been his teeth chattering.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘either Hannah’s right, or she’s not. And there’s only one way to find out.’ Cautiously I picked my way up the slippery bank towards the end of the rainbow. As I’d expected, it faded as I drew nearer, and by the time I’d scrambled up to where I remembered it being, it had vanished altogether. ‘There’s a platform here,’ I called down to the others. ‘A wooden platform, big enough for us all to stand on. It must be here for a reason.’
They clambered up to join me. Rich stood, arms folded, scowling across the chasm. ‘So where’s the rainbow now?’ There was a definite note of relief in his voice.
‘The sun’s gone behind a cloud,’ Jamie pointed out. And as he spoke, the sun beamed out again … and the bridge materialised in front of us.
From this angle it was colourless, like a bridge of translucent glass, or cloud. It started just in front of the platform, and arched up and away until it vanished in the spray. It was about a metre wide.
Suddenly my mouth felt very dry. ‘Well, here goes.’ I stretched out my left foot, and lowered it tentatively onto the bridge. It went right through as if it wasn’t there. I lost my balance, teetering on the edge of the platform, my arms flailing like a windmill, the dizzying drop spinning sickeningly beneath me … and then a strong hand grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and hauled me back to safety.
‘So much for that,’ said Rich gruffly. ‘Looks like you were wrong, Hannah.’
Hannah was gazing out over the gorge, her eyes very round and solemn. She didn’t reply. Tiger Lily was snuggled in her arms … and then she wasn’t. With a wriggle and a squirm she leapt down onto the platform, gave Richard a single haughty glance, stalked to the edge of the chasm … and over it.
Hannah let out a little shriek — and then we were all silent, gaping.
Tiger Lily was strolling up and over the rainbow bridge as if it was made of solid concrete. For a moment she was silhouetted at the highest point of the arch; then she had disappeared over the other side, leaving us all staring after her with our mouths open.
‘Right,’ said Rich, his jaw set. ‘We know it’s possible. So …’ he stepped forward.
‘Do be careful, Richard,’ quavered Gen. ‘Maybe it’s only strong enough to take light weights …’ Richard scowled at her. One foot reached out to the bridge, prodding experimentally — but I noticed he kept his weight well back. And just as well.
Gen sighed, the sound almost drowned by the thundering of the water. Kenta shot her a rueful smile. ‘Maybe that’s how it got it’s other name — the Bridge of Sighs.’
‘Thanks Kenta — that’s real useful,’ growled Rich sarcastically. ‘And watch out, for goodness sake, Weevil — if you jump about like that you’ll fall over the edge — and I’m not going in after you.’
Blue-bum was hopping and skipping about as if he’d gone crazy, pointing at us each in turn and chattering away nineteen to the dozen. It made me feel giddy seeing him cavorting so close to the edge of the platform … and then suddenly I realised he wasn’t on the edge, he was over it — leaping up and down on the bridge itself, solid as a rock.
‘So — he can cross it, too,’ said Rich thoughtfully, as Weevil disappeared onto the other side. ‘Why can Tiger Lily cross, and Weevil, but not the rest of us? And what set him off like that, I wonder?’
‘It was what Kenta said about the Bridge of Sighs,’ Gen said.
‘The Bridge of Sighs,’ repeated Jamie. ‘The Bridge of Sighs … do you have to sigh while you’re crossing?’ He rolled his eyes and breathed gustily through his mouth to demonstrate, then poked one toe at the bridge … and through it.
‘No, silly!’ chirped Hannah. ‘I know what it is — and Tiger Lily knew before anyone. It’s not the Bridge of Sighs — it’s the Bridge of Size!’
‘Huh?’ said Rich.
But before we could say anything else — before we could even begin to stop her — Hannah had scampered out across the roaring void and over it, laughing back at us over her shoulder.
Gen’s dream
Kenta crossed next, then Gen. ‘It’s you now, Jamie,’ said Rich, grinning down at him, ‘though I guess it depends what kind of size it goes on.’
Blushing, Jamie moved to the edge of the platform, then stopped. ‘Well, hurry up,’ said Rich. ‘Don’t stand there all afternoon admiring the view! The sun’s moving fast, and there are two of us still to go!’
‘It’s just …’ I could barely hear Jamie over the roar of the water, ‘… it doesn’t look awfully … solid.’
He was right — it didn’t. My guts were churning at the thought of crossing — and as Jamie had said, what if the sun went behind a cloud?
‘Just do it!’ growled Rich. ‘The longer you hang about, the more danger there is of the sun disappearing when you’re halfway over. Hurry up, for crying out loud!’
Jamie shuffled reluctantly forward, his arms outstretched like a tightrope walker. He took one tiny step … then another, and another. Then he stopped. From where we were standing, it looked almost as if he was suspended in mid-air.
We waited. But Jamie was frozen, immobile on the bridge.
I cupped my hands round my mouth and yelled across to him. ‘Jamie — kneel down! Crawl — you’ll feel safer!’ For a moment I thought he hadn’t heard me. Then he sagged at the knees, sinking down till he was on all fours and crawling forward with agonising slowness until he vanished over the top. Still we waited, Rich muttering impatiently, until we saw him arrive safely on the other side, the girls all over him.
Rich turned to me with a grin. ‘So, Adam: you or me?’
We eyeballed each other, dead level. I had no idea who it would be — Rich looked heavier, but I was maybe a centimetre or so taller. ‘I’ll be last, I bet,’ said Rich with a swagger. ‘I’m bigger, and stronger too. Go on — and make it quick!’
Warily, I made as if to step out onto the bridge — but my foot went clean through it, just like before.
To my relief, Rich didn’t waste time arguing — and once he was on the bridge, he crossed it at a trot. I glanced up at the sun slanting over the bluff. There wouldn’t be more than a minute or two before it disappeared — already, it had a blinding intensity that meant I had only moments left.
I took a deep breath, readied myself … and the second Rich was over, tested the bridge with my foot. This time, instead of emptiness, I could feel it under my boot, slightly yielding, but solid. Arms out for balance, trying not to look down, I walked out over the abyss. I could hear the thumping of my heart over the roaring of the falls … but the surface of the bridge was firm underfoot, almost bouncy, like a trampol
ine strung extra-tight.
I reached the top. The shimmering surface curved downwards now, and I felt a sickening lurch of vertigo, as if I was toppling forward. Then a desperate shout reached me over the thunder of the water: ‘Adam — run!’
I looked up — and saw with a stab of horror that the last sliver of sun was disappearing behind the cliff. Where seconds before there’d been a glare of light, now there was a chilling pall of shadow, only the tiniest edge of dazzling brightness still visible above it.
Panic ripped through me. I flung myself desperately towards the bank with huge, driving strides, my feet sinking deeper with every step as the bridge dissolved with terrifying speed beneath me. The torrent roared in my ears like a ravenous beast — I was running on nothing, stepping on air — I gave one last frantic leap, feeling the faintest resistance as my foot shot downwards into space — then threw my body forwards like a long-jumper, hands outstretched in a desperate grab for the bank I knew was still far beyond reach.
Then I was falling, a last thought spinning crazily though my brain: So this is how it feels to die.
Time spooled into slow motion, every second stretching into an eternity, freeze-frame following freeze-frame. Then unbelievably — impossibly — my hands were closing on something as I fell, something coiling out like a rope flung into mid-air — I was gripping it with every atom of strength I possessed — falling, falling — then a massive jerk almost wrenched my arms from their sockets and I smashed face-first into the fern-covered cliff face below the path and hung there, my legs dangling over the void.
Real-time snapped back into place, seconds thudding by with each beat of my heart. My hands were locked onto the rope like steel clamps — but it wasn’t a rope, it was a creeper, wet with spray and slippery as soap. I realised with a surge of horror that my weight was pulling me gradually downwards, centimetre by slow centimetre.
Then the creeper gave a jerk and I was hoisted upwards, my face scraping through mud and foliage and my feet kicking against rock … I flopped forward onto the forest floor and hugged it as if I’d never let go.
We walked on, leaving the sound of the falls far behind us, the ground underfoot growing gradually drier. At last it was too dark to see the path, though the trees had thinned and we could see occasional patches of sky.
Rich, who was leading, slowed and stopped. ‘I vote we set up camp here for the night. We can afford a rest — nobody’s going to be crossing the bridge till morning, that’s for sure. And I’m whacked.’
No one was about to argue, we were all too tired. We wolfed down the last of the bread and some fruit, unrolled our sleeping bags, and settled ourselves down for the night.
I fell instantly into a bottomless sleep — and then, what felt like seconds later, jolted awake again, my heart hammering. What had woken me? I lay still, listening. I could hear the tiny sounds of the forest — rustles, a faint hooting, the gurgle of a stream far below in the valley. The clearing was bathed in a strange, coppery light; I could see the bright glow of a full moon like a lamp above me, shining through the shifting leaves.
Something — a stone or a twig — was digging into my hip. I turned over onto my side and wriggled to get comfortable. Closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to relax. But it was no use — every sense was on the alert.
And then it came again — and I knew instantly it was what had woken me. Laughter, coming from Gen’s sleeping bag. Something about the sound chilled me to the bone. It was an odd sort of giggling, with a falseness about it … I propped myself up on one elbow, frowning. She was murmuring now — talking in her sleep. Snatches of words spilled out into the still air: ‘Come … water …’ a sigh, then another soft giggle, and, very clearly: ‘rainbow!’
And suddenly Gen was sitting bolt upright, her hair a wild tangle and her eyes huge and frightened in a face as white as paper.
‘Gen?’ She whipped round to face me with a gasp. ‘It’s only me — Adam. What’s the matter? Did you have a nightmare? You were babbling away to yourself …’ I was trying to sound casual and comforting, but I couldn’t shake a deep feeling of unease.
‘I’m fine.’ Her voice shook slightly. ‘It’s just … I had the strangest dream …’ She shuddered, pulling the sleeping bag closer round her shoulders.
‘Tell me.’ The feeling of dread was growing with every word.
She glanced round at the sleeping shapes of the others with an expression that looked almost like shame. ‘It’s silly, really.’ She was whispering so softly I could hardly hear her. ‘I dreamed I was doing the walk again, the whole way we’ve come … every step. And he was with me.’ I didn’t need to ask who she meant. ‘At first, I thought it was my dad — he was so gentle and caring. And by the time I saw who it really was, it didn’t seem to matter, because he was being really, really kind — helping me over the difficult places and laughing with me as if it was all a wonderful adventure. Having him there was lovely, soothing and safe, as if someone was sort of … stroking my mind.’
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. ‘Go on.’
‘We crossed Rainbow Bridge … and then he asked how much further we had to go.’
‘What did you tell him?’ But I didn’t want to hear the answer.
‘I told him … all the way to the Cliffs of Stone.’
‘And then?’
‘Then he laughed — but it was a different laugh. It turned into black bats that flapped up to the sky and blotted out the stars … everything was darkness and echoing with his laughter … and … and …’
‘Yes, Gen?’ I asked as gently as I could.
‘Then I woke up.’ Her voice was as small and lost-sounding as a little child, and her face was wet with tears. ‘It was only a dream, wasn’t it, Adam? Tell me it was … please?’
The door between two worlds
I shook the others roughly awake. ‘Quick — Rich, Kenta. Up, Hannah — now! We have to get moving — and fast.’ I was cramming my sleeping bag into my pack as I spoke.
Rich gawked at me, his hair rumpled and his eyes bleary with sleep. ‘What —’
‘Karazeel knows where we are — and where we’re headed. He got into Gen’s head while she was sleeping …’ I didn’t need to say more. Richard was out of his sleeping bag in a flash, ripping through the campsite like a whirlwind, stuffing things willy-nilly into his bag.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Gen in a tiny voice.
‘It’s not your fault,’ said Jamie staunchly, pulling on his boots. ‘You were vulnerable, after what happened in Shakesh.’
‘I always wondered what it would be like to be beautiful,’ Gen whispered. ‘But if I hadn’t looked like this, he’d never have noticed me — and this would never have happened. Oh, how I wish …’
‘No point wishing,’ growled Rich, slinging his pack over his shoulder. ‘The one wish we had, we used up.’ He glared at her, no doubt remembering what we’d used the wish for.
Less than five minutes later we were hurrying along the path in tense silence. I had an almost irresistible urge to look back over my shoulder — an uncomfortable sense of being watched, or followed, even though I knew it couldn’t be true. Rich must have felt the same. He slowed slightly and muttered over his shoulder: ‘I’ve been thinking, Adam — they won’t come this way. What we said last night holds true — the ravine’s impassable till the sun rises. They’ll cross at the ford — knocking together a new ferry won’t take Karazeel’s merry men two minutes. They’ll come down the north road, and intercept us at the Cliffs of Stone. Our only chance is to get there before them.’ Rich always seemed in his element with practical stuff — the more dangerous the better. I nodded agreement, not saying what was in my mind: that getting to the cliffs before our pursuers was one thing … but finding the doorway back to the safety of our own world might be another.
The twin moons of Arakesh were high in the sky and side by side when we set off, and full. The effect was spectacular — like two glowing lamps in the sky, one si
lvery-white, one bronze. The light they shed made it almost as bright as day, with a strange metallic lustre that paved the path with gold.
We hurried on, Jamie puffing and panting at the rear, the girls in the middle, and Hannah hanging onto my hand, stumbling with tiredness. I gave her a grin and hoisted her onto my back, and we made faster progress.
Soon we were out in the open. Far below, gleaming in the moonlight, I could see the coppery thread of the River Ravven winding away to the sea. The ground on either side of us was becoming steeper, rising almost vertically to the right and falling away to the left. The path had narrowed, and it would be easy to lose our footing. And if we did … I glanced down, and my stomach turned over at the sheer drop below. I wondered how visible we’d be from the ford, silhouetted against the cliff face in the moonlight.
At last the path started to descend, and I saw the welcome shadow of trees ahead. ‘I’m betting that’s the fringes of the forest outside Arakesh,’ said Rich in a low voice. ‘And if I’m right, it means we’re nearly there.’
We hurried on, grateful for the shelter of the trees. The moonlight faded as the twin moons vanished over the horizon behind us, and I realised it must be almost dawn. As the sky slowly lightened, my sense of urgency grew stronger. It was as if I could sense an evil presence growing closer, grey shapes materialising like wraiths out of the misty light. ‘Rich,’ I muttered, ‘we must hurry.’
We picked up the pace till we were almost running, stumbling along at a jog for as long as we could, then slowing to catch our breath before pushing on again. The forest had dwindled to nothing now and we were in the open, feeling horribly exposed but making faster time. Some deep instinct was driving me on, urging the others to hurry. It was more than fear of the Faceless, or whatever might be hunting us — it was a feeling that we were facing some strange deadline I didn’t even begin to understand … racing the sunrise … and if we were too late, everything would be lost.