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Old shelts say there are mysteries along the Triangle Road, but mysteries without economic value are seldom remembered these days. The arm of the Triangle between Laven-lay and Danda-lay is well maintained, but unremarkable. The most interesting part of the Triangle is the leg between Laven-lay and Selbis, including Harn-beng—a magnificent structure that is falling into disrepair. If there are mysteries on that haunted road, no one wants to find them.
—Capricia Sor, A Concise History of Panamindorah
Corry and the cubs agreed that staying near the pass would invite unwanted attention, yet they could not decide which way to go. As the cubs combed the ground for clues, Corry listened to the hum of the insects and began to slap at the first stings. It was almost dark, and he could not help remembering the young minstrel’s song about the swamp monster.
“I’m going to climb that tree,” announced Leesha, “the one that’s leaning. I smell faun on it.” Quick as a squirrel, she scampered up the twisted trunk into the branches.
“Do you see anything?” called Corry.
“No, just— Oh!” Leesha came partway back down. “There’s a plank road up here.”
Seconds later they stood staring at a slender bridge, cunningly disguised among the branches, running from tree to tree as far as Corry could see in the twilight. There was nothing to do but follow it.
* * * *
When the charging hound hit Laylan on the bridge, he struck with his sword and forgot to hold onto Chance. The faun was thrown to the leeward side of the bridge. He seemed to have difficulty getting his feet under him. When Laylan leapt off Barbet, he understood Chance’s problem at once. The wind was fierce, and he skidded on the wet stone, slippery with lichen and mold. The sword clattered from his hands and went whirling into the abyss as he caught himself on the dragon’s stone claw. Laylan struggled out of his boots, trying to gain purchase. His paws helped stop his skating, but Fenrah’s rope fell from his shoulder and became tangled in his legs.
Chance saw that Laylan was having trouble and tried to get nearer. Just as he reached Laylan, the wolf and hound crashed into them along with a gust of wind and rain. Chance slipped over the edge. Grappling for some part of the statue, he got hold of Laylan’s tail instead. Laylan clutched at the air as he fell. To his surprise, his hands closed on something.
Whamp! Laylan bit his tongue and tasted blood. He opened his eyes, nose against stone. He was clutching the rope, which he realized had tangled in the claws of the statue. Laylan risked a glance over his shoulder, but turned away quickly. Far below, the Tiber-wan roared between the walls of the canyon. Pain was lancing up his flanks, and he realized what had happened to Chance. Laylan looked down again—not over his shoulder, but straight down between his arms. “Chance?”
The faun looked pale as death.
“I’ll try to climb up. Don’t let go.” He can’t hang on for long, thought Laylan. It’s a wonder he can hang on at all. At least they were in the lee of the bridge. Laylan could see they were hanging at least two-thirds of the way down the side. He realized then just how deep Harn-beng was—at least the height of six shelts.
As he started to climb, Laylan caught a blur of dogs on the bridge overhead. He heard hoof beats. If they happen to look down, all it would take is one arrow.
Chance’s voice came in a rasp. “Laylan?”
“Yes?”
“I think I could stand up.”
“What?”
“I think there’s something under my feet, just a little below me.”
Laylan felt the pressure on his tail give way. He’s gone.
But then the voice came again. “Look down, Laylan.”
Chance was standing on something. Looking to his right, Laylan saw that the dragon’s tail extended all the way down the side of the bridge at such an angle that a careful shelt might walk along it. Laylan inched down the rope until he stood on the ledge beside Chance. To his further amazement, he saw that the tip of the dragon’s tail separated from the bridge before curving out of sight below. As though it were made for someone to walk under the bridge.
He turned to Chance. The faun had closed his eyes, back flat against the stone. “Don’t move; I’ll be back.” A dog slipped off the bridge, narrowly missing them as it fell.
Moving as quickly as he dared, Laylan inched his way along the thread of stone until he came to the place where the tail separated. He bent and followed it, crawling under the bridge. Wind and rain lashed him in the face, but what he saw made him smile. A hairline crack outlined a square section on the underside of the bridge. Bracing himself against the stone tail, Laylan put his shoulder to the square and pushed upward. It gave. He pushed it aside and stood up, chest high in the still air of the space inside the bridge.
