Chapter 123: Beyond The Chasm

Mara followed him around the left side of the barricade.

The creature jumped before they cleared it. Rook ducked beneath its reaching feet and cut across one knee. It struck the road behind them, rolled into the rubble and began dragging itself upright. Neither of them stopped to see whether it could still fly.

Behind them, the bridge had become a feeding ground.

The large plated Abomination had caught another flyer between its jaws. Two others clung to its back, pulling at the gaps between its plates, while smaller creatures crawled beneath its legs to tear pieces from anything they could reach. Severed limbs still moved across the road. Whenever one creature fell, several others descended upon it.

The fighting gave them room to escape, but their injuries made every step harder.

Mara's calf burned whenever she put weight on it. Blood had soaked into her boot, and her injured forearm trembled around the dagger. Rook ran with an uneven stride, keeping his wounded leg stiff whenever he could. His scythe hung lower now. He only raised it when something came close.

They reached another shelter and crouched beneath a slab resting against the parapet.

Rook put down the lantern and unfastened his coffin. While Mara watched the opening, he took out three more thunder charges and adjusted their delays. He slipped them into his coat, closed the coffin and secured it again.

"How much farther?" Mara asked.

He looked through the gap ahead. The lantern showed another stretch of road, more barricades and nothing beyond them.

"Are we halfway?"

"If we're lucky."

She stared at him.

They had been running for so long that her legs shook even while she crouched. The far side should have been close by now. There should have been something ahead besides more concrete disappearing into darkness.

Rook looked at her hand trembling around the dagger.

"I should have made us wait," he muttered.

Mara lowered her eyes. She had wanted him to stop arguing and take her east. Now she could barely stand, and he was bleeding because he had agreed.

There was nothing useful she could say about that.

Rook scattered more powder across the opening, then handed her the lantern.

"Stay close."

They moved on.

At the next barricade, he activated one of the charges and rolled it beneath a broken slab behind them. He left another farther along, then the third beside a narrow gap where several pale hands were beginning to reach through the rubble.

Mara kept the lantern low and followed his back.

The flyers had become less frequent. Most remained caught in the fighting behind them, and those that followed usually came alone. Rook stopped trying to do more damage than necessary. He cut at whatever would keep them from following, then moved before they could recover.

One landed on the parapet beside Mara and reached for her head.

Rook caught its wing with the scythe and dragged it against the concrete. The creature twisted toward him, snapping its teeth. He struck the wing joint twice, severing it, then shoved the body sideways before it could find its balance.

Its remaining wing struck his shoulder as it fell.

Rook staggered against the wall with a sharp grunt. Mara caught the back of his coat and pulled him away from the edge.

For a moment, he stayed bent over, breathing through his teeth.

Then he straightened and took the lantern from her.

"Keep moving."

They could no longer run for more than short stretches. Between barricades, they hurried as fast as their legs allowed. Under cover, they leaned against the stone and waited until the shaking eased enough to continue.

Once, four flyers crossed the road ahead.

Rook pulled Mara beneath an overhang and pressed himself against the wall beside her. They stayed still while feet scraped across the slab above. Something sniffed near the opening. Mara tightened her grip on the dagger, but Rook shook his head.

Powder covered their clothes and the blood drying beneath them.

The creature remained outside for several long seconds.

Then a thunder charge exploded farther back along the bridge.

The feet left the roof. Wings beat overhead, followed by several answering cries.

Rook waited until the sounds moved away before lifting the lantern.

They slipped out through the other end.

Two more explosions followed while they hurried between the barricades. Each brought fresh screams from behind them. Mara glanced back once and saw shapes dropping into the blue light, some with wings and others climbing over the parapets to join the fighting.

She stopped looking back after that.

They passed another shelter. Then another. Rook cut through a hand reaching from beneath a block, and Mara stepped over the severed fingers without slowing. Her boot caught on a loose stone farther ahead, nearly bringing her down. She struck the barricade with her shoulder and pushed herself onward.

At last, the lantern caught something beyond the road.

Rock rose beside the parapet.

Mara stared at it until she understood what she was seeing. The bridge continued between two broken walls, but solid ground lay beyond them. A rough slope climbed away from the chasm.

They had reached the other side.

She almost stopped.

Rook kept walking, and she forced herself to follow.

The road ended beneath scattered stones and hard, bare soil. Without the barricades, they felt more exposed than they had upon the bridge. Mara searched the darkness ahead while Rook raised the lantern, turning slowly to examine the ground.

"Do you recognize anything?"

"No."

"Nothing?"

"I never crossed."

His earlier contracts had ended long before this point, one after the sea crossing and another beyond the Hollow Road. Whatever experience had brought them this far could not tell them what waited ahead.

They were following directions from an old man whose name they still did not know.

They could have returned to the Hollow Road and followed the reports left by other Reapers. Instead, they had trusted someone who claimed to have seen the Gate sixty years ago.

Someone who had also repaired a Bastion and saved Rook when nobody else could.

Mara held on to those facts while he searched for somewhere they could stop.

To the right of the bridge, a broad shelf of rock jutted from the cliff. A small stone structure stood upon it, partly hidden behind a larger outcrop. Its walls were intact, and a narrow path led toward an open doorway.

Rook pointed with his chin.

"There."

They followed the path as quickly as they could. Nothing moved between the rocks, and no wings passed overhead.

Up close, the structure looked like a small watchtower. Its upper stones had broken away, leaving a single room with one door and a narrow window overlooking the bridge. Two stools stood beside a table. A low bed occupied most of the opposite wall.

Rook checked beneath the bed with his scythe before allowing Mara inside.

He lowered the coffin to the floor, closed the door and pushed its bolt into place. Then he set the lantern upon the table. The battered frame threw uneven blue light across the room, but it was enough to see by.

Mara sat on the bed before her legs could give way.

Rook opened the coffin and took out folded gauze and several rolls of bandages. He handed half to her, then sat on a stool and pulled the torn cloth away from his thigh.

The wound had begun closing at its edges. Moving had repeatedly pulled it open again.

Mara watched him press gauze against it.

"Why do you need those? Shouldn't your flesh remember its shape?"

"It will."

"Then why bandage it?"

"Helps it happen faster." He wound the strip around his leg and pulled it tight. "Remembered flesh needs enough memory to hold its shape. Bandages help keep it together while it does."

"How?"

"You remember wounds being dressed. You remember getting better afterward. It gives your body something familiar to follow."

Mara looked at the bandages in her lap, then began wrapping her forearm.

Rook finished his thigh and turned his attention to his shoulder. Mara worked more slowly, struggling whenever she needed to pull a knot tight. After her arm, she lifted her trouser leg and covered the cuts along her calf.

By the time they finished, bloody gauze lay in a small pile beside the coffin.

Neither spoke.

Rook sat with his scythe against his knee, watching the door. Mara rested her dagger beside her and leaned against the wall. Without the need to keep moving, the exhaustion settled over her so heavily that even adjusting her leg seemed difficult.

Occasionally, a cry carried across the chasm.

They both listened until it faded.

A long while passed before Rook looked at her.

"What you did wasn't all right."

Mara knew he was no longer talking about the bridge.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't expect it to hurt you like that."

"I told you I didn't want to remember."

"I know."

He watched her for another moment. She wanted to explain that she had thought it would help, but he already knew that. Repeating it would not change what she had allowed the old man to do.

"I should have listened," she said.

Rook looked down at his hands. He rubbed his thumb against his fingertips, stopped, then did it again.

"What's done is done."

Mara nodded, though she did not mistake the words for forgiveness.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. A moment later, he opened them with an irritated breath.

"And now I have this fucking craving."

"For what?"

"Cigarettes."

Mara blinked.

"I smoked," he said. "Apparently, I smoked a lot. That was another thing I'd managed to forget."

His fingers moved again, as though searching for something that should have been between them.

"Three hundred years without wanting one. Now it's all I can think about."

"Can you get them here?"

"In some Bastions. Finding them outside one is considerably more difficult."

A short laugh escaped Mara before she could stop it.

Rook looked at her. "What?"

"No wonder."

"What does that mean?"

"The first time someone called you the Blunt Reaper, I thought that was what they meant."

"Cigarettes?"

"Weed. I thought you spent all your time smoking."

He snorted and looked toward the ceiling.

"If only that shit grew here."

Mara smiled faintly. Rook rubbed his fingers together once more, then folded his arms.

The silence returned.

She considered saying something else, but nothing came to mind that would not make the brief exchange feel forced. He had not stopped being angry with her because she had made him laugh.

Outside, something shrieked above the bridge.

Rook waited, listening. When no other sound followed, he eased his injured leg farther from the stool.

"Do you know where we're supposed to go now?" Mara asked.

"Farther east, apparently."

"That's still all we have?"

"That and an excellent reason to avoid going west."

She looked toward the window. The bridge disappeared into darkness beyond the lantern's reach.

"We need supplies," Rook continued. "Somewhere to rest properly. If we find a Bastion, we can ask about the Gate."

"There are Bastions beyond the chasm?"

"There are Bastions scattered throughout the Underworld. Some are so far from the roads we know that most Reapers never reach them." He glanced at her. "The old man said there were more on this side. If he saw the Gate here, someone in them should know something."

"Even after sixty years?"

"People have longer memories here. Usually."

Mara let that pass.

"And how do we find one in this darkness?"

Rook stood with some difficulty and approached the window. He examined the bridge first, then leaned to one side to look along the eastern bank.

"There."

Mara joined him, keeping most of her weight on her uninjured leg.

At first, she could make out nothing. Then she noticed a faint outline beyond the rocks, a broad mountain rising above the nearer ground. Most of its slopes vanished into the dark.

"We get higher," Rook said. "If there's a Beacon anywhere nearby, we'll have a better chance of seeing it from up there."

Mara looked from the mountain to his bandaged leg.

"After we rest."

"Yes. After we rest."

She returned to the bed and carefully lowered herself onto it. Rook checked the door bolt again before taking his stool beside the table.

"How long?" she asked.

"One day."

"And then the mountain?"

"If your wounds have closed and you can use your Imprint again."

Mara nodded. For once, she had no argument.

Rook rested the scythe across his knees and turned toward the window.

"We're not doing the next part like this."