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into
two golems, both larger than a wagon on end. They shifted their
immense forms to the side allowing the wagons to pass. The bridge
across the river was made of stone like that of the golems. Large
and small blocks fused together flawlessly in a complex
pattern.
    Minni led the
wagon train across the span without delay. She hated crossing this
damn bridge. Stoneheart’s will bore them safely, but at any moment
could pummel them with stones, set the giant golems on them or drop
them to their deaths. What if the old bastard was having a bad day?
Stoneheart’s bridge stole all control from her and that was not a
feeling she appreciated.
    Riding down
the range might have improved the horses’ spirits had the sergeant
not pushed the wagon train so hard. He swore and cursed at his
drivers, goading the men to whip their horses bloody to outrun the
closing fingers of night. The Great Dividing Range behind them cast
an early dusk across the woodland below and long shadows swallowed
the road. The silhouette of the mountain peaks cut against the
orange and peach sunset like black blades.
    After a long
scout down into the forest without any sign of bandits, Minni
returned to the wagons.
    “ The bridge across Dayglow Creek is down,” she told the
sergeant. “Might be best to make camp here and try a different way
at first light.”
    “ Hells to that. There must be another way past.”
    “ There’s an old track that splits off before it. That’ll take
us across upstream, but it might be harder for the wagons at night.
I think we should stop and camp by the stream. Rest the
horses.”
    “ Quit wasting time and earn your keep, witch. Scout
upstream.”
    “ You might not make it through,” Minni baited.
    “ Do you want a lash? We'll not stop in these damned dark woods
with a witches moon on the rise.”
    The team of
wagons proceeded, and when they reached the fork, Minni guided the
lead wagon to the smaller trail off to the side of the main
road.
    She called to
the lead driver. “There are a few dips, but nothing like the range
before. Slippery though, so take it easy.”
    The track was
clear and she urged her horse into a trot; she knew this track well
by dark or by day. She came to the stream and dismounted, leading
her horse to the slow rolling water to drink. Out of sight, Minni
pulled a mouthpiece from her saddlebag and blew into it twice,
sounding an ibis call into the shadows of the forest. After a short
pause a call echoed back from the shadows across the stream. Minni
blew again, elaborating a complex series of honks. She paused. The
ibis called again followed by the wook wook of two barking owls on
one side of the path. Then came the whistle and zip of a
bristlebird from the other side.
    Minni mounted
again and rode back to the wagons making their way down the path to
the stream.
    “ Clear ahead,” she called to the first driver. “I’ll wait on
the other side of the stream to guide you through.”
    The driver
nodded and kept on.
    The wagons
came down the small slope taking care not to wedge the wheels
burdened by the heavy load in the sand. The lead wagon entered the
water and the horses pulled it across the creek. Once the wagon’s
front wheels passed safely out the other side, the sergeant called
the rear wagon to proceed down the slope.
    Minni made a
loud ibis call from her mouthpiece.
    A rope sprung
out of the sand and stretched tight, trapping the back axle of the
lead wagon. The driver cracked his whip across the horses. The
wagon lurched forward, but could not pull the wheels clear. Now at
the bottom of the slope, the rear wagon was wedged in; neither
could manoeuvre their way out.
    The guard
sergeant began yelling commands to his men, but was silenced by an
arrow piercing his throat. Arrows danced from the shadows, taking
the life of each man with silent accuracy. There was no opportunity
for defence, no possibility of a counterattack. The only sound that
remained after the short cries of the fallen was