Richard Tuttle - Star of Sakova

“We were fortunate getting through the swamp,” informed Syman between bites. “It is pretty vast and we ended up cutting across a narrow portion of it.”

Nobody felt a need to reply and Syman continued, “I think we are being followed. It is hard to tell, but I saw something that looked like a group of riders making their way through the watula field. We slept later than I would have liked. If they started tracking us at dawn, it is possible that they are on our trail.”

“How many?” asked Lyra.

“Hard to tell,” Syman answered. “To be seen at this distance though, it must be a large party.”

“They will find it hard to track us trough the swamp,” Antello stated. “They can’t see tracks that are under water.”

“Not as hard as you think,” Syman frowned. “They don’t have to see hoof prints to track us. Just the trampled grass will be enough to give our course away. In fact, they will make better time through the swamp than we did because they will not have to zigzag as much.”

“Well our horses are well rested as are we,” Lyra mentioned. “I suggest we ride hard for a while and increase the distance between us.”

“Agreed,” confirmed Syman. “We should head south for a ways. The land is dry and becomes forested in a little while. There is more of the swamp to our east. We will also be gaining elevation and maybe we can get a better look at them this afternoon. Hopefully, we will find out that they are not the invaders.”

“I had hoped that they would not follow us in the Sakova,” Antello said.

“I think they want me bad enough to go anywhere,” sighed Lyra. “Maybe they will all drown in the swamp.”

The trio mounted and Syman led the way south. As he predicted, the land sloped continuously upward and within an hour they gained the protection of the forest.

The forest was comprised mostly of age-old fargi trees, tall and thick. The forest floor was dark and foreboding, the sun unable to penetrate the foliage of the massive trees. The forest had a musty smell about it and the bushes below had broad green leaves, almost obscuring the ground completely. What ground could be seen, was covered with decaying leaves from the fargi trees. Small animals skittered away from their path as they traveled.

Lyra felt a tingling sensation along the back of her neck, similar to the feeling she got whenever someone was watching her. She scanned the forest but saw nothing other than trees and bushes and pushed the feeling away.

They rode until high sun when Syman halted at the edge of a precipice. A river cut through the forest and had eroded a canyon that was clearly too wide to jump. Syman dismounted and walked to the edge. Standing right on the edge, he peered east and west before turning to face his friends.

“I think we are in trouble,” Syman announced. “I don’t see any way down into the canyon and it looks like it runs for leagues in both directions. We dare not turn back in case those are invaders following us and every moment we waste trying to find a way across gets them closer to us.”

“Maybe we can fell a couple of those large trees and make a bridge,” Antello suggested.

“Fargi trees are very dense hardwood,” informed Lyra. “We will never down one of them. How much time do you think we have Syman?”

“They will have moved through the swamp much quicker than we did,” mused Syman. “Fours hours at the most I guess. They can move quickly without fear that three of us will lay an ambush for them. Maybe as little as two hours if they have a good tracker.”

Syman led the way eastward along the northern rim of the canyon, searching for a path down, which would allow them to reach the other side before the invaders had a chance to catch up to them. They had not traveled more than a league when he stopped where a fallen fargi tree had bridged the chasm. The ancient hardwood giant must have served as a bridge in the past because Syman could see where someone had mounded dirt at each end to allow access to the log. The fargi tree was huge and the diameter of the fallen log was several times his height, still, he did not look pleased with the prospect of riding a horse across it.

“What are you waiting for?” called Antello. “Let’s get across before they catch up.”

Syman ignored his friend’s impatience, dismounted and walked around the nearest end of the fallen tree. The log appeared to be well anchored and it certainly was sturdy. Perhaps he was being too cautious, Syman mused, but there were no visible tracks of anyone using it and the dirt mound should show some recent use.

“Look at the other end,” called Lyra. “It doesn’t look like there is much ground underneath it.”

Syman walked to the cliff and peered over the chasm at the far end of the tree bridge. There was a dirt mound similar to the one at the nearest end, but the canyon rim underneath it had eroded badly.

“It doesn’t look like much is holding the other end,” he stated. “We should keep going until we find a path through the canyon.”

“We could be looking for a path for leagues,” cried Antello. “This is too good to pass up. I am sure that it will hold us. Fargi trees last forever and I will even go first.”

“As much as I would wish to be free of your chatter,” frowned Syman, “I do not wish to be free of you. No matter how sturdy the tree is, unless there is solid ground underneath it, we will fall to our deaths.”

“That is a thought,” smiled Lyra. “If we could make it across and somehow disable it so the raiders could not follow us, we would gain a lot of time.”

Syman turned and with a scowl opened his mouth to berate Lyra for encouraging Antello, but stopped before the rebuke was uttered. “Are you really willing to risk your life on this tree?” Syman inquired. “Even if it held the weight, I cannot imagine riding a skittish horse over it.”

“Nor I,” Lyra grinned. “We have plenty of rope. Let’s tie a rope around Antello and let him cross. He can tie off the rope on the other side and we can hang on to it when we cross. And we will not ride the horses. I will walk each of them across after I have cast a calming spell on them. They will not be nervous and will walk calmly.”

“Then we can sabotage the other end so that the raiders cannot follow us,” beamed Antello. “It is perfect.”

“I cannot believe you two,” Syman said while shaking his head. “The plan is fine except for the first part. A rope around Antello will do nothing for him, except allow us to haul his body up after he dies. He would just swing into the rock cliff if he fell.”

“Nonsense,” laughed Antello. “First, I am not going to fall. The log is huge and I could run across it without any fear of falling off. Second, the log is not going to just instantly fall. If it does fall, I will feel it starting to go and I can run back before it tumbles. You can keep an eye on the other side and let me know if you see it starting to move.”

Syman stood shaking his head, knowing that his friend was going to cross no matter what he said. Antello thought he was invincible and all Syman could do was try his best to protect him.

Antello was already preparing the rope when Lyra came up beside Syman. “I think it will be alright,” she said. “I will go first if that matters to you. I would not ask Antello to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.”

“No,” Syman agreed, “Antello is the best one for the job. He is quick and sure-footed. I just hope nothing happens to him.”

Lyra nodded as she turned to the task of calming the horses. It only took moments to calm the horses, but when Lyra turned back to the log, Antello was already roped and ready to cross the bridge.