Darren Shan - The Thin Executioner

They paused at the edge of the trees while Tel Hesani found his bearings. Then he led Jebel back the way they’d come, making for the river. They ran in silence, lunging through the snow. They slipped often but never stayed down for long, rising quickly and resuming flight.

Eventually they crested a hill and spotted the churning water of the as-Sudat. The river appeared as a darkly coated snake in the dim light, alive and thrashing.

“Can we… go… that way?” Jebel panted, wiping sweat and snow from his face. He couldn’t see any sign of a path.

“I don’t know,” Tel Hesani said, eyes scrunched up. The clouds parted briefly, and the world was brightened by the moon. “There!” he cried, pointing to a spot farther on. Jebel saw a thin rock bridge crossing the raging river.

“You can’t be serious,” he gasped.

“You have a better plan?” Tel Hesani challenged him.

“We can’t see how wide or thick it is,” Jebel moaned. “Most rock bridges are impassable, even in fine weather. In a storm like this, it would be suicide.”

Tel Hesani paused. “You’re right. We should track downriver to the Erq Assi Jeh.” As he turned to look for a path, the shrieks of bats and the howls of humans were carried to his ears. He cast his gaze back. For a couple of seconds he saw nothing through the swirling snow. Then, as the wind cleared a temporary window, he spotted a handful of figures stumbling after them. There were bats above and around them, but they were hampered by the snow, and the humans were pressing on. Behind them, Tel Hesani spotted the um Gathaah, following at their own pace, waiting to finish off the survivors if the bats failed to kill them all.

“No time,” Tel Hesani said grimly as the snow closed around them again. “The um Gathaah will attack if they spot us. The bridge is our best bet. They won’t follow us over that.”

“Because they’re not mad,” Jebel huffed, then shrugged. “But I agree it’s the only way, so let’s go.”

After much slipping and sliding, and a short climb up a snow-layered bank, the weary pair arrived at the rock bridge. It was bigger than it had looked from afar, thick enough to take the weight of dozens of men. But towards the middle it narrowed alarmingly. It was wide enough to cross on a warm day, if you weren’t afraid of heights and had a good sense of balance. But during a furious snowstorm…

“Maybe we should take our chances with the bats,” Tel Hesani wheezed.

“Or try swimming out of trouble,” Jebel snorted, glancing down at the dagger-tipped foam of the as-Sudat.

Tel Hesani gathered his courage and took a deep breath. “Have you any rope?”

“No.”

“Then we can’t tie ourselves together. It’s each for himself. If one of us slips, the other won’t be able to help him.”

Jebel gulped, then said, “I hope the gods are with you.”

“And I hope God looks favorably on you,” Tel Hesani smiled shakily, then stepped onto the bridge, Jebel close behind.

The wind tore at them immediately, as if it had been waiting all winter for this chance. Jebel risked one look back — the small band of Um Biyara had cleared the hill and were stumbling towards the river — then focused on his footing.

They edged along slowly, doubled over, ready to grab for a handhold if their feet slipped. The rock was caked in a layer of ice — most snowflakes were blown off it immediately — so it was treacherous underfoot. Jebel tuned out the howl of the wind, the blinding flecks of snow, and even Tel Hesani, training all of his senses onto the bridge, taking it one slow, sliding step at a time.

Jebel quickly lost count of the number of near misses, when the wind threatened to hurl him over the edge into the abyss or when a foot slipped and he crashed to one knee, steadying himself with his hands, a second away from oblivion. When he got to the middle of the bridge, the narrowest point, he paused, even though he knew it was crazy, and challenged the wind to do its worst. It howled angrily, as if infuriated, and beat at him even harder than before (or so it seemed). But Jebel withstood the gale, hunched over, grinning like a maniac. After a few seconds he moved on, and now he felt secure. The wind had thrown all that it could at him, to no avail. He was going to survive!

Of course, anyone on Makhras could have told him that a boy who stops to pat himself on the back in the middle of an ordeal invites the wrath of all the gods of luck.

They were almost at the end, safety within sight, when a stray bat was hurled at Jebel’s head by the wind. Its claws caught in his hair, and it dug its fangs into his neck. Jebel instinctively grabbed the bat and ripped it away. The wind caught the beast and smashed it into the bridge, killing it instantly, but Jebel was in no position to take comfort from that.

He had lost his balance. Both feet slipped at the same time. The wind nudged him, almost playfully, and he toppled.

“ No! ” Jebel screamed, arms flailing, trying to fall forward so that he could clutch at the bridge. But instead he slid backwards, dragged by gravity and driven by the ferocious wind.

Tel Hesani heard Jebel’s cry. Ignoring his earlier declaration that it was each for himself, he whipped around and reached out, despite the probability that Jebel would drag him over. His fingers came within a feather’s width of Jebel’s. For a split second both thought that Tel Hesani would succeed and pull the boy to safety.

But Tel Hesani’s desperate gesture proved a futile one. His fingers fell short of Jebel’s, and before he could lunge again, Jebel was gone, flying backwards, lost to sight almost instantly.

The bellow of the river filled Jebel’s ears. He saw a thin sliver of light pierce the cover of the clouds. Debbat Alg’s face shot through his thoughts, accompanied as usual by that of the glum Bastina. Then there was a bone-juddering crash into a world of churning chaos — and everything went black.

Down… down… down into a void. It seemed like his fall would never end. Tumbling head over heels into a cold, wet, black and roaring hell.

Finally Jebel slowed until he was hanging in the freezing darkness. He instinctively opened his mouth to scream. Water gushed in and he choked. As he gagged and thrashed wildly, his body rose and bobbed to the surface.

Jebel broke free of the water’s hold and gasped a hasty breath. Then he was driven under again, only to pop up after another struggle. Spitting out water, he looked for the bridge and Tel Hesani, but he had been swept out of sight of them. Then he was submerged again, swallowing, drowning. The cold consumed him. He was moments away from the end.

The current forced him up. He gulped for air, jaw working like a fish’s. He threw out his arms, clutching for the stars, begging the gods for mercy. Then…

Silence. The roar of the river faded. The current dwindled. The chill left his bones. He trod water for a few bewildered seconds, blinking dumbly. Then his eyes fell on something, and excitement flared inside him — a boat!

Jebel tried to hail the people on the vessel, but all he could manage was a croak. Rather than wait for his voice to return, he swam swiftly, arm over arm, legs a blur behind him. He felt sure that when he stopped to look, the boat would be gone. But when, long seconds later, he paused to check, he was within several strokes of its stern.

There was a rope ladder hanging from the side. Jebel grabbed hold of it and pulled himself up, emerging from the water like a dripping rat, shivering, shaking, teeth clattering. But he was alive! Despite the odds, he had somehow miraculously survived.

“Hello?” Jebel called.

There was no answer, and for an awful few seconds he thought the boat was deserted, that it had broken free of its moorings and was headed towards an unmanned calamity. But then somebody stood up near the bow, a tall man in a golden robe, his back to Jebel.