There is no path, so far as I can tell. Thankfully, the horse seems to know the way. After a short ride, we stop again. This time, Scythe dismounts and undoes my bindings. Before he has a chance to shove me to the ground, as has become our ghastly custom whenever I move too slowly for his liking, I slide backward and find my feet of my own accord. I have to grasp the stirrup to keep my legs from buckling, but at least I’m standing. My soul smarts with defiance as I turn to Scythe.
He’s not even looking at me. His focus is on the gulch.
“We’ll cross here,” he says. “Slow. Single file. You’ll lead the horse. I’ll take the rear.”
My eyes widen as I step forward and get my first glimpse at his intentions. Across the wide gap of rock and shadow, a rickety bridge has been rigged up. The thick ropes suspending it from either side of the ravine look frayed with age. Its wood slats are spaced far too sparsely for my liking—some appear to be missing altogether. It swings in the breeze, creaking perilously.
“You cannot be serious,” I breathe, horrified.
“I’m not known for my sense of humor.”
“There’s no chance that will hold our weight!”
“It will. It must.” Scythe’s voice is low. “It’s the only way across—unless you plan to sprout wings and fly.”
“I don’t plan to cross at all! I’d rather fall to my death than head into those godsforsaken mountains.”
“That can be arranged.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at him. “We both know you need me alive.”
His eyes cut to mine. “Do I?”
“If you didn’t, I’d be dead ten times over already.”
A grunt is all I get in response.
I glance at the mountains. Even with my head tipped all the way back, I cannot make out the summit through the dense cloud cover. “Whatever enemies pursue us, surely they cannot be more terrifying than the monsters that await us there.”
Scythe’s dark scoff makes me jolt. “You know little of monsters, girl.” He pauses. A halting note—could it be trepidation?—threads into his tone. “Still, we cannot stay here. The men chasing us are not far behind. We’ve a half day’s lead on them, at best. If they catch up…let’s just say you will be begging for an ice giant.”
“Ice giant? Did you sayice giant?”
“Come.” His hand clamps down on my arm, and he begins to tow me toward the bridge. Terror springs to life within my breast. I dig in my heels, not above begging for a stay of execution.
“Wait! Wait,” I plead, trying uselessly to pry his fingers off my arm. “If we truly must go north, there has to be another route we can take!”
“None we would survive.”
Eyes wide, I look across the approaching void to the mountains looming on the other side. Up close, they are even more foreboding. “You mean the Avian Strait, don’t you?”
Scythe glances sharply at me but does not contradict my suspicions. “What does a Midlands peasant girl know of the strait?”
“Only that those who attempt to pass through it are equallylikely to catch an arrow in the chest or find themselves buried beneath an avalanche.” My features contort into a scowl. “Though I should think an icy grave better than death at the hands of that barbarian the Northlings call king.”
There is a measured pause. “You’ve heard of Soren, then.”
“That surprises you? His bloodthirsty exploits are whispered about in every corner of this land, from the sand caravans of Carvage to the white shores of Seahaven. Anwyvn’s warring kings possess little common ground, but on this one front, they seem in complete accordance: King Soren is a scourge in need of execution.”
When Scythe says nothing in return, I glance over at him. His eyes seem to glitter in the darkness, full of thoughts I cannot decipher. His face is set in what, on any other man, might be annoyance.
I clear my throat and change topics. “I was told the Avian Strait was the only way through the mountains.” I look to the rope bridge. “Apparently, my tutor was mistaken.”
“There are other ways. Older ways. Not many know of them anymore.”
“But you do.” My mind is spinning. “How? How can a soldier—even one of your rank—from a Midland campaign know of such things? Unless…”
Unless he is not of the Midlands at all.