part0010

B y torchlight, the Henchmen ventured on to the narrow ledges and into the icy chill of the Wound. Aided also by a soft glow from Melris’s and Iris’s hands, the surefooted group navigated deeper into the black terrain.

Ruger led in the front with Horace by his side and Melris a half step behind and between them. Sticks was bringing up the rear, with Solomon and the Red Tunics, Skitts, and Zann. She rubbed her hands together. Frost came from her breath. She brushed against Solomon’s furry body and said, “What do you make of our new leader?”

The aged troglin shrugged and said, “I hope Abraham comes back.”

Lifting an eyebrow, the normally unflappable Sticks asked, “Why do you say that?”

“I put my trust in Abraham to take me home. I’m not so sure about this man. His purpose might not be the same. To make matters worse, if Abraham does not come back, then that only means that I am stuck here as well.” Solomon frowned. “Perhaps it serves me right for getting my hopes up of seeing my home again.”

Sticks nodded. She felt for the troglin and could see the lost look in his big brown eyes. “This Ruger is better than the other one. At least we have that. The old guardians have truly embraced him. I don’t have much of a problem with it myself, but I miss Abraham.”

“Funny, but I still feel compelled to follow this man.” Solomon rubbed his chest on the spot where he’d been branded. “It’s the magic in the Brand, I guess. I was hoping to talk with him, but Horace wouldn’t stop blathering. This Captain Ruger, he really jumped feet first into the king’s mission. It was as if he hadn’t missed a beat.”

Ahead, the group slowed. The shelf that made a path down into the great canyon’s interior narrowed to a ledge twenty feet long and just barely big enough for one man. Ruger crossed first with his back against the stone. He tossed a length of rope back to Horace. “Take no chances. One by one. We don’t want to risk this shelf cracking.

One by one, the others crossed, holding the rope in hand. Debris on the outer edge broke off and chipped. The small rocks bounced down the rock wall, echoing at first then falling silent.

All the Henchmen moved across the ledge without hardly a one touching the rope. Sticks crossed in a few quick steps. She was followed by the Red Tunics, both of which were carrying heavy packs full of gear. Skitts used the rope, but Zann didn’t.

“A bold pair of rabbits, I see,” Ruger commented as they crossed. “You should grab the rope. Your packs will leave you off balance, and I don’t want to lose any gear.”

Skitts locked his hands around the rope. He was facing the wall and sidestepping along the twenty-foot gap. The back of his heels barely hung off the ledge as he moved slowly.

“Will you hurry up?” Zann suggested in his Southern drawl. “Or are you waiting for the ledge to break underneath of you?”

“I’m moving fast enough. You hush,” Skitts said with a shaky voice.

“Keep it moving, young fellow. Only a few steps left to go.” Ruger slid a look at Sticks. “This place would benefit from one of those elevators from that other world.” He extended his arm and grabbed Skitts’s pack the moment the Red Tunic came close enough. He assisted him all the way across. “Your heart won’t shoot out of your throat so much the next time. You’ll get used to it.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Skitts said as he moved on.

With an impish grin, Zann navigated the foreboding ledge with ease, leaving Solomon and Horace on the other side.

“Go ahead, Horace,” Solomon said. “I’ll hold the rope.”

Horace handed him the rope and started to cross. The portly warrior walked on tiptoe with his free hand grazing the wall of rock. He crossed the gap in seconds.

Solomon tossed the slack in the rope over. He signaled to the others with a casual flip of his hand. “Scoot back. My feet are far too big to walk this dainty ledge.”

Ruger coiled the rope over his head and moved back the onlookers bunched up on the ledge. “Let’s give him some room. Have at it, troglin.”

“Call me Solomon,” the old troglin replied. In a single leap, Solomon jumped across the twenty-foot chasm. He landed gingerly on the full ledge. “Easy peasy.”

“Well done, Henchman,” Ruger remarked. “Though I’m not surprised. I’ve seen your ilk leap thirty feet like great cats. I was only concerned because you appear old.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let appearance fool you,” Solomon replied with a quick look at Sticks.

“I assure you I don’t.” Ruger turned.

The shelf that Solomon was standing on broke underneath him. The troglin slipped into the chasm with his claws raking down the chasm wall.

Ruger dove belly first onto the ledge. His strong fingers clutched over the rim. “Horace, anchor my legs—I have him!”

Horace dropped down on his butt and hooked his meaty arms around Ruger’s ankles.

Sticks burst into action, grabbing the rope and tossing it over the rim. She flipped the excess rope to the Red Tunics. “Anchor it!”

The Red Tunics fed the rope back to the others. A strong chain of rope and men was set.

“Where is he?” Horace asked.

“I don’t know. I thought I had him. It appears I have not,” Ruger replied.