Chapter 22 – The Crossing

The river was a problem.

Shaelith stood on the bank and watched the rushing waters tumbling through the rocky riverbed below them. Recent rains had turned the stream into a raging monster, carrying tree trunks and debris as if they were nothing.

And where there had once been a bridge, probably not too long ago, only a few stone pillars now protruded from the water. The rest lay scattered on the bank as a field of debris. Some beams were half sunk in the mud, others had become entangled in the bushes, but at least they were still there. Given the strong current, that wasn’t exactly something they could’ve realistically hoped for.

Was it the flood or deliberate sabotage? Hard to say. But the result is the same either way.

“This is the border,” Thaelon said quietly. “Beyond this river the territory is completely controlled by goblins.”

Grimbart was already wading cautiously through the muddy bank, to take a look at the remains of the bridge. He held on tightly to one of the pillars with his Chronosteel prosthesis as he ventured a little into the river and lifted a half-submerged beam. He inspected the wooden structure carefully.

“It’s not completely destroyed,” he grumbled. “The pillars are still solid, and some of the crossbeams are reasonably intact. If we use the driftwood, we could erect a temporary scaffold…” He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “It’s feasible. But it’s time-consuming and not entirely without risk.”

“How time-consuming exactly?” Shaelith crossed her arms under her chest.

“We’ll need at least half a day. Probably longer.”

Benderast stepped beside her and eyed the river with a frown. “Can’t we just go around it? There must be another bridge somewhere sooner or later, right?”

“That could cost us days,” Thaelon said curtly. “And even then, there’s no guarantee that the next crossing is still standing.”

Days that Vyriz doesn’t have.

Mirrsoss hovered above the water and examined the trees on the other side of the river. “I could fly over with some ropes! But-” She looked doubtfully at Grimbart and Benderast. “-I’m not strong enough to carry anyone, especially not the two heavy ones.”

“And swimming in this current is suicide,” added Thaelon. “Just in case you get any stupid ideas, Benderast.”

“Believe me, I definitely don’t want to drown,” Ben replied gravely, and Shaelith also felt a shiver run down her spine at the memory.

Sighing, Shaelith surveyed the wreckage of the bridge, the raging river, and the distant trees on the other bank. It would be a hell of a lot of work, but she didn’t think it was impossible either. Her kinesis glyphs could help position materials, Mirrsoss could attach anchors on the other side, and Grimbart obviously knew enough about engineering to design a makeshift structure.

“Let’s build a bridge,” she said. “All of us together. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be across.”

 

~

 

She had been right. The next few hours consisted mainly of sweat, curses, and indeed a hell of a lot of hard work.

Grimbeard took the lead. It was reassuring to have someone with them who had obviously already built a few structures in his life and wasn’t doing this for the first time. Shaelith hadn’t gained much experience in this area in either her first or second life.

Grimbart directed them with calm instructions. “That beam there, further to the left so it sits nicely in the center. Yes, like that. Now hold on tight.”

His Chronosteel arm also proved to be invaluable. With an arm that was indestructible and stronger than ten normal dwarf arms combined, he lifted debris that would normally have required four men. The runes on the metal glowed faintly when he moved particularly heavy loads.

To Shaelith’s astonishment, Benderast followed Grimbart’s instructions without complaint. No bragging, no stupid jokes, nothing. Instead, he hauled lots of logs, heaved stones, and did what he was told.

He probably just lacks the breath to talk shit right now. Or he’s saving his energy for his next embarrassing performance.

Shaelith herself used her kinesis glyphs to reach materials that the others couldn’t reach without putting themselves in danger, or to hold them in place. She let heavy beams float over the river and landed them precisely on the stone pillars. In addition, she grew mycelial strands that wrapped themselves around hard-to-reach joints where they bound them together like living ropes.

Mirrsoss worked high above them. Her wings carried her effortlessly from bank to bank as she stretched ropes and secured anchor points in the trees on the opposite shore.

Thaelon took on the most dangerous task. Light-footed as a cat, he balanced across the ropes Mirrsoss stretched and sometimes on the half-finished structures, securing connections on the other side and testing each section for them.

During a short break, Shaelith watched Grimbart talking to his metal prosthesis.

“Come on, Contributor,” he muttered as he patted a particularly stubborn beam. “Just one more. You can do it.”

Contributor?

“Are you talking to your arm?” The question was out before Shaelith could hold it back.

Grimbart looked up and smiled. “Old habit.” He tapped the Chronosteel. “I call it the Contributor. Saved my life more than once, that thing.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be tactless.”

“You weren’t, don’t worry, it’s not a touchy subject. Not anymore. There are worse things than losing an arm. But I had to learn that the hard way.” He turned away to finally tackle the stubborn log.

Shaelith let the subject rest, but when Thaelon briefly returned to her side of the river to drink water, Shaelith took the opportunity to ask him about it.

“I’m sure you didn’t offend him, don’t worry,” the Sylvyn confirmed between two gulps of water what Grimbart had already said. “Grimbart isn’t sensitive about it. When we first met, I found his arm quite disturbing, so he even took it off once and showed me exactly how it works.”

“You two know each other much longer than Benderast, don’t you? How come a Sylvyn like you lived all alone at the edge of the forest and your best friend was a dwarf of all people?” she asked with genuine interest.

Thaelon’s jaw muscles tensed. “Disagreements with my grove.”

“Oh, what kind of disagreements? Political?”

A long pause. His amber eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “The kind of disagreements that make you no longer welcome.”

Exiled, then.

His whole body radiated discomfort as if he hastily erected a wall. Shaelith read the room and left him alone.

I seem to be putting one foot after another in my mouth today.

She just nodded to him and turned back to her work.

 

~

 

The crossing was almost complete when they were attacked.

Thaelon was on the other side, busy attaching the last anchors, while Mirrsoss hovered above, handing him ropes she had attached to the trees above them. Grimbart, Benderast, and Shaelith herself were still on their side of the bank when the goblins burst out of the undergrowth.

And it wasn’t just a small band of scouts, but a whole damn war party.

Yellow eyes glowed in the semi-darkness between the trees, and the metallic clang of their primitive weapons mixed with their insane war cries. The stench of unwashed goblin bodies in heat fever wafted toward them before they could even see them.

Fifty of them, maybe more. Shit.

“GROFF’FUFFBAR!”

If the goblins had attacked just ten or even five minutes later, they could have simply fled to the other side and could have torn down the makeshift bridge behind them. This way, they would have to fight and finish the damn thing at the same time.

“Benderast, Grimbart, try to keep them off me!” Shaelith activated dozens of glyphs at once.

Mana flowed through her body, but this time, fortunately, it wasn’t the desperate trickle of blood-painted emergency glyphs, no, this time she had her real glyphs, carefully applied with high-quality mycelial ink. She was more than ready.

She caught the first goblin that made it within range with a wave of kinesis and hurled him violently against a tree trunk. The ugly crunch of his bones and the stifled sound that escaped him as the impact squeezed the air out of his lungs was like music to Shaelith’s ears.

That’s more like it.

She used glyph after glyph, erecting shields in front of them to deflect arrows and projectiles, using her illusion magic to create specters of Benderast and Grimbart, who scattered in different directions, confusing the attacking goblins, and her emotional glamour sowed fear and paranoia in the front ranks of the enemies.

Three goblins suddenly turned on each other, overwhelmed by the artificially heightened mistrust. One rammed his spear into the back of his comrade before another struck him down himself.

 Goblin psyches are so refreshingly easy to manipulate.

Benderast and Grimbart were only momentarily confused by the vehemence with which Shaelith’s magic raged among their enemies before they too threw themselves into the fray.

The dwarf’s Chronosteel arm had transformed into something halfway between a shield and a battering ram. Any goblin that came too close to him was either crushed between his arm and the ground or hurled aside. The metallic whirring of his prosthesis, which moved so fast that the eye could barely follow it, was only occasionally drowned out by the crack of breaking bones when he hit a goblin skull squarely.

“Forge Father!” he roared as he literally tore an above-average-sized goblin in half with a particularly vigorous blow.

That one is going his separate way now.

Benderast fought right alongside Grimbart, doing things with his sword that Shaelith had never seen before. Whatever else could be said about him, he really could fight. His movements were fluid, almost too perfect, as if his body knew things his mind could never have had time to learn. Even for Vyn warriors or dwarves with hundreds of years of experience and training, that would be a pretty solid achievement. Not to mention a human who had held a real sword for the first time a few months ago.

“I’m still so glad I skilled Sword Mastery!” he shouted as he slit the throats of two goblins with a single blow. “This is just so much fun!”

From the other side, Thaelon’s arrows whistled through the air, finding a goblin’s eye here, an unprotected throat there. He covered the flanks in particular, trying to prevent their attackers from surrounding them or attacking them from behind.

Mirrsoss had also darted back to the other side and was sprinkling her Wing Dust on the goblins below, causing confusion and disorientation. Some stumbled around blindly, others lashed out wildly.

“To your left!” she shouted from above. “Another group!”

Shaelith spun around. Twenty more goblins were indeed trying to flank them. She raised both hands, concentrated, activated three glyphs in conjunction with each other, and unleashed a massive purple glowing wave of kinesis. The entire group was caught and thrown from the bank into the raging current of the river, which swept them away.

That cost a hell of a lot of mana, but I’d say it was worth it.

Their small battle was brutal but brief. The goblins were relatively numerous, but they had no Fuff-Shaman with them, so none of those damn Warlock runes and they had no tactical leadership either.

They only had raw rage and heat fever madness, and within minutes they were lying dead or dying on the shore.

But if even one of them escaped and gets reinforcements…

“The crossing!” Shaelith shouted. “We have to get across NOW!”

They completed the final work in a frenzy of adrenaline and exhaustion. Shaelith magically held the makeshift structure together with sheer willpower, drawing everything she had from her kinesis glyphs but even so the wood groaned and creaked under the strain.

Grimbart went first. The bridge swayed alarmingly but held. Benderast followed, faster.

Shaelith waited until both were safely across. Then she made her own crossing, while simultaneously stabilizing the structure with magic.

She was three-quarters of the way across, and the other bank was getting closer, when something cracked ominously beneath her.

Not now, damn it!

She sprinted the last few feet, jumped, and landed panting on solid ground as the makeshift bridge crashed into the river behind her with a thunderous crash.

She lay flat on her back for a moment, staring at the gray sky, while exhaustion slowly crept into her limbs. Her mana wasn’t depleted yet, but it was definitely tapped.

“That,” gasped Benderast, whose face appeared above her, “was awesome!”

Shaelith blinked.

“You really cleaned up over there,” he continued. “I didn’t know you could fight like that!”

I’m a trained Shaeravyn sorceress, you idiot. What did you expect?

But she only said, “I had better starting conditions than when we first met.”

He held out his hand to her, and she let him help her up.

They marched inland for another hour, away from the riverbank and away from prying goblin eyes, before setting up camp for the night. It had begun to drizzle, a fine, cold spray that settled in their clothes and hair.

While they were setting up the tents, Mirrsoss came to Shaelith. The Umilari seemed unusually embarrassed and her antennae twitched nervously.

“Shaelith? I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s…” Mirrsoss visibly struggled to find the words. “Well, the timing is a bit inconvenient after this fight, but tonight is the night. My egg is ready, and I need to lay it soon.”

Shaelith needed a moment to process what she had just heard.

Wait. Egg?

“You have to lay an egg?”

“Yes! Once a month. It’s unfertilized, so there’s no baby inside, just…” She waved her hands vaguely. “Just an egg. Normally, we grind the shell into powder and mix it with the yolk for larva food, but since I don’t have a larva, I always give my eggs to Grimbart. He makes omelets out of them.”

Oh.

The realization hit Shaelith like a bucket of cold water.

She wasn’t talking about menstruation back then, she literally lays an egg every month, and I just assumed…

Mirrsoss’ confusion from the first evening of their journey suddenly made a lot of sense. Shaelith had just assumed based on her own experience, but never asked or even listened, when Mirrsoss had tried to explain.

That’s exactly the kind of stupidity I accuse Ben of. Great, Shaelith, well done.

“It’s a natural process,” Mirrsoss hastily continued, as if interpreting Shaelith’s silence as discomfort. “But private. I prefer solitude for it. So… I’d need the tent to myself tonight. It’ll all be over by morning.”

“Of course.” Shaelith nodded, trying to hide her embarrassment. “No problem, don’t worry about it.”

Mirrsoss’ face lit up. “Thank you! You’re really understanding!” She fluttered away, obviously relieved.

Shaelith stood there, with her sleeping roll in her hand, looking at the tent she now couldn’t use.

The drizzle grew heavier. Cold drops ran down her face and neck.

Grimbart and Thaelon had already disappeared into their shared tent. Mirrsoss scurried into hers and pulled the entrance closed behind her.

That left only one tent.

Benderast’s tent.

Shaelith stood in the light rain and considered her options. Sleep outside and get soaked to the bone. Or share the tent with Benderast.

Please shoot me.