“That one isn't on the map, is it?”
Startled by the unexpected discovery but hopeful the gods had just bestowed a mercy upon them, Serovek bit back a smile at Erostis's almost forlorn question. “No, it isn't, but that doesn't mean it can't be crossed. We might as well scout it before we decide to take the longer route.” He didn't relish traveling through Chamtivos's territory, and if this new bridge offered a way to avoid that, he'd gladly take it.
They set off toward the bridge, and Serovek felt a splinter of unease the closer they came to it. How a map maker could capture the details of a footbridge but miss a beam bridge of this size and majesty made no sense. Judging by the depressions in the cliff walls where the other beam bridge had been anchored, it was wide enough to accommodate all types of traffic, with a lane dedicated to each side crossing instead of having to wait for clearance.
This bridge dwarfed the collapsed one, easily three times its size and wide enough to allow full battalions and cavalry to cross, along with wagons of every size. Tendrils of fog wound through the parapets and floated just above a bridge deck partially covered by a carpet of tightly twisted ivy. The greenery wrapped pilasters and spilled over the deck's edge in long garlands. More of it draped statues twice the height of a man that lined the bridge on both sides.
Where bridge deck met cliff edge, a set of pavers carved in arcane runes marked the transition from ground to bridge. Their party halted, and Serovek dismounted for a closer look at the carvings. He stretched out a hand to trace one of the symbols in the air. The abrupt change in temperature made him step back before reaching out a second time to test the air.
“What is it?” Anhuset had dismounted as well and came to stand beside him and Magas.
“Put out your hand,” he instructed her. “Just over the line where the bridge starts.
She hesitated for a breath before doing as he asked. Like him, she yanked her hand back. Unlike him, she didn't try a second time, electing instead to wipe her hand on her leg. “It's warm. Summer-warm compared to where we're standing.”
Serovek had assumed the runes carved in the pavers were either wards or a greeting and was inclined to believe the former rather than the latter. Therefore he wasn't overly startled when his hand slipped across an invisible barrier that separated the hard cold of a lingering winter still gripping the land from the heat of a day in high summer. No wonder the ivy draping the bridge was so lush and green. An enchantment protected it from the elements.
What made him pause was Anhuset's lack of awareness of or sensitivity to the sorcery. The Kai he'd known, blessed with a heritage of magic, could sniff it out when it was nearby. She'd said nothing nor given any indication she'd felt its presence, even when they stood at the bridge's entrance.
“Did you not sense the magic as we got closer?” he asked her in a low voice, keeping his tone light and conversational.
Her entire body stiffened, an infinitesimal tensing. If one wasn't watching her closely, they'd have missed it, but Serovek had been watching, and the reaction told him his question had touched a raw spot.
Her expression as well told him more than she realized. Studied. Distant. An indifferent mask. “It's human magic,” she said in a bland voice. “The Kai don't always sense the sorcery your kind wield.”
Your kind.
Had she slammed her shield down between them, her message couldn't have been clearer. He trod where he wasn't welcomed with his question, and she warned him with those two words that he'd be wise to back off from any more inquiries.
He held up both hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender before turning his attention to Erostis and Klanek. “We don't know what these wards do or if the bridge's apparent stability is just an illusion. I'll walk it first...” Three sets of protests went up so that he had to raise his voice above them. “Then come back so we'll go as a group.” He scowled at Anhuset and the two men as they all readied to launch into another spate of argument. “I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.”
“I'm going with you,” Anhuset returned his scowl. “My magic might have missed the first ward, but it may catch something else before you stumble into it.”
Her suggestion gained an enthusiastic nod from Erostis. “It's a good idea, margrave. Better than you going alone or me and Klanek with you. The sha would know what to avoid if there's anything unseen lurking on the bridge.”
Serovek's faith in Anhuset's sorcerous senses had been tested one too many times now. It was no longer as strong as Erostis's, but he didn't argue the point. He passed Magas's reins to him instead and motioned to Anhuset to do the same. “Leave your horse. We'll keep the risk to a minimum.”
When they stepped onto the bridge, a tilting sensation made him sway, and his ears popped as if he dropped suddenly from a greater height. He widened his stance to keep his balance and saw that Anhuset did the same. The sensation passed as quickly as it struck, leaving behind a cloying heat and the scent of decaying vegetation.
Dressed for winter, the two shed their heavier layers of clothing, but even down to a thin shirt, he still broke a sweat. Beside him, Anhuset wore a sleeveless tunic. A fine sheen of perspiration already glossed her arms, defining long muscles, and she squinted without the protection of her hood. She'd unsheathed one of the knives she wore at her belt, the blade catching the dull gleam of sunlight on its edge.
She stretched out her arm, inviting him to lead. “Ready for a stroll, margrave?”
Up close, the bridge was even more dilapidated. Age and abandonment had left their marks, as had the purposeful defacement by long-vanished vandals. Even half choked in the creeping ivy, it was still a magnificent structure of lavishly carved stone. The statues he'd seen lining the parapets towered above him, standing on plinths engraved with epitaphs in an unknown script. The sculptor or sculptors had rendered the rich texture of silk and delicate embroidery from stone in the garb worn by the effigies, and the crowns they all wore told all who looked upon them that these were kings and queens. Larger than life in both marble and flesh and blood, they loomed over their lesser subjects with haughty majesty.
Anhuset's voice beside him startled him from his contemplation. He'd been so distracted by the sight of the statues he hadn't heard her approach. “I can forgive a mapmaker for overlooking a bridge, even one as grand as this, but an entire city?” She pointed to the other side of the ravine where the mist hung thick as a barrier wall, obscuring everything at the bridge's opposite end. Until now.
The impenetrable gray had fractured in spots, creating gaps in the mist wall to reveal a true fortification complete with imposing gate, battlements, and turrets. Towers claimed by more of the ivy soared skyward behind the walls. The crumbling remains of graceful sky walks once connected a few of the towers, their spans dismembered. In the sun, the city gleamed alabaster pockmarked by lichen and mold.
As much of a ruin as Haradis, this nameless city perched on the cliff's edge in equal silence. Serovek fancied he still heard the faint echo of voices and the creak of wagon wheels as they rolled over a bridge deck clear of ivy and crowded with people.
Unease crawled down his spine. What lay behind the mist and fortifications? Was the silence born of a place devoid of inhabitants or one that simply hid a quiet predator? A galla waiting to ambush the unwary if they walked through the gate?