The Soterion Mission (11 page)

“Eh? What’s that?” Navid paused, swaying gently over the abyss.

Sammy pointed across the river. “Look! There’s a bloke on the other side!”

“Navid!” screamed Cyrus. “Get back!”

A second arrow rattled against the crumbling ironwork. Navid jumped off the rail and ran back down the walkway to the safety of the bank. “So what do we do now?” he panted.

“OK, we stay here and keep an eye on the bridge to make sure whoever’s over there doesn’t sneak up on us when it gets dark,” said Cyrus. “We can decide on our next move in the morning.”

“Nice idea, Cyrus,” said Taja calmly, “but I think you’ll find the morning will be too late. Listen!”

Through the still of the evening came the sound they had all been dreading. The terrifying baying of hounds. Timur had them cornered, precisely as he had planned: as flies in a jar, they were trapped.

8: The Crossing

Sammy looked at Taja. “What’s that noise then, Taj?”

Taja pretended not to hear him. No one had ever called her anything but “Taja” before and she was not going to let a youngster start now, however grateful she was to him for getting her out of the Gova settlement.

“It’s dogs,” explained Navid.

“Oh! Like Corby, you mean?”

“No, not really. The ones making that racket are hunting dogs. They’re known as ‘hounds’. They chase animals and kill them. Except this time it’s us they’re after, not something to eat like rabbits or deer.”

Roxanne gave him an uneasy look. Though the explanation was neat, in one appalling respect it wasn’t quite true – though this was hardly the time to enlighten him. Navid’s words raised another issue, too. It struck her that Timur, instead of using the dogs to hunt her, might have chosen to let them track her and lead him to the Soterion. Whichever course he had decided on, the mission had to throw him off their scent. That meant crossing the river.

During the exchange between Navid and Sammy, Cyrus had been assessing their position and had come to the same conclusion as Roxanne. The barking was yet some way off: he estimated it would be almost dark by the time the Zeds reached the river. So what to do? There was no going back or trying to sneak off down the bank; judging by the direction of the din, their pursuers were closing in from all sides. That left only one option. They had to force their way across the bridge, whatever the cost.

Cyrus clapped his hands for attention. “Decision time! We’ve got to find a way of getting to the opposite bank – there’s no way we can stand and fight the whole of the Grozny.”

“I’ve never done any fighting,” said Sammy anxiously. “What’s it like?”

Navid gave a low grunt. “It’s OK if you win, Sammy – ”

“Exactly,” interrupted Cyrus, keen to get on with things. “We fight only if we have to and when we’ve got a chance of winning. If we give battle here, we’ll be completely outnumbered; however good we are, we’ll be hacked to pieces or, worse still, taken prisoner.”

Roxanne, who had been staring absent-mindedly at the murky river, nodded vehemently. She would rather throw herself into the crocodile-infested No-Man than fall into Timur’s hands again.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened when Navid tried to cross,” Cyrus continued. “We saw only one person shooting at him, yes?”

There was general agreement on this. “OK. The trouble is, he’s unlikely to be alone. Someone’s planned this and, from what Roxanne’s told us, there’s only one Zed who could do that. Timur. I can’t believe Timur would have sent just one man to hold the bridge against us.”

“One, two, three…I don’t care,” said Navid. “If we stand here nattering we’ll never even find out. Whatever you say, Cy, I’m going to have another go.”

All he needed, he went on, was for Taja to cover him while he was on the rail. Positioning herself on the bridge behind him, the opposite bank would be within range. Once on the other side, he was confident of being able to take care of a Zed or two.

“And after that?” queried Taja. “Assuming, of course, that the Grozny haven’t arrived by then and skewered the rest of us.”

Picking up on Navid’s plan, Cyrus suggested that once his friend was across and confronting whoever had shot at him, he’d be able to get over unopposed to help. While this was going on, Roxanne and Sammy should cut down a pole to use as a handrail.

“What about Corby?” asked Sammy, patting his new friend on the head. “He won’t be able to hold on to a bit of wood with them paw things he’s got, will he?”

They agreed to try the Navid-Cyrus attack, and if it worked, they would make some sort of hammock out of their clothes and pass the dog across using the rail. It was not a particularly clever or clear idea and, if they were honest, none of them was sure it would work. As none of them came up with anything better, however, they had no choice but to give it a go.

The mission’s second contrivance for getting safely across the river was altogether more ingenious. It came from Roxanne. As Navid was getting ready to climb onto the bridge a second time, she called for him to wait a moment. Then, to the astonishment and even slight embarrassment of her friends, she peeled off her loose-fitting dress and handed it to him.

“Here, Navid,” she said calmly, “take this and put it on.”

Navid’s face fell. “It’s alright,” she explained. “It may look a bit odd, but listen, I’ll explain what we’ll do.”

Captain Jumshid was feeling rather pleased with himself. True, the bridge was still standing – his blows had little impact on the ironwork and he had been unable to think of any other way of bringing the structure down. Nevertheless, as the Malik had ordered, he had prevented the Constants from crossing. If they tried in the dark, all he would have to do was climb back onto the bridge and position himself on the edge of the gap between the spans. From there it would be easy to push into the river anyone advancing towards him. That would almost certainly not be necessary: the baying of Grozny hounds was getting closer with every moment that passed.

The difficulty of balancing on a single rail for some ten paces over a lethal river had also given Jumshid a plausible explanation for Sheza’s absence. He would tell Timur that the young man had simply lost his balance and tumbled into the No-Man. It wasn’t so far from the truth, either.

“Good man, Jumshid!” the Captain said quietly to himself, puffing out his chest and imitating the high-pitched voice of his master. “You not ratbrain! No, you now Captain Cleverman!”

Grinning at his own success, Jumshid looked out across the bridge from his hiding place. Daylight was fading fast and he could now barely make out the dim shapes of the Constants moving around on the opposite bank. What a lovely choice they had! Fall into the hands of the mighty Malik, jump into the No-Man and be eaten alive, or be shot by him…

Wait a moment! Another one of them was going to attempt the crossing. As Jumshid watched, a figure stepped up onto the bridge and advanced along the iron footpath. He was bigger than the last one, much bigger.

The Captain’s eyes widened in amazement as the shape lurched awkwardly forward. It was enormous – a giant! Although not especially tall, the monster man was as broad as an oak, with arms like a horse’s thigh. Jumshid placed an arrow against the string of his bow. The bigger the target, he told himself, the easier it was to hit.

As his enemy reached the end of the walkway, Jumshid took a few steps down the bank to get a better aim. Something whizzed past his left ear. Eh? There was another figure, a much smaller one, shooting at him from the bridge. He slipped behind an iron girder and peered round.

The giant was now halfway across the gap, edging in his direction. He couldn’t miss. Jumshid stepped out from his hiding place, pulled back his bow, took careful aim and let the arrow fly.

Thwack! The sound of the metal-tipped missile striking its target echoed dully across the river and a flock of startled ducks rose squawking into the heavy evening air. Jumshid stared in astonishment. He had hit his target alright – there was his arrow sticking out of the giant’s chest like a wayward rib. And yet… The monster was still moving! True, it had swayed a little when the arrow struck, but it had regained its balance and resumed its ungainly progress.

Thwack! A second arrow buried its shaft in the giant’s chest beside the first. Once again the swollen creature swayed before righting itself and moving on. By the time Navid – for it was indeed he – set foot on the secure walkway on the far end of the bridge, no fewer than five wooden shafts projected from his massive trunk.

“See!” he roared, seizing each arrow in turn and breaking it in half, “Your puny weapons cannot harm me. Prepare to die, Zed!”

Jumshid, like all his kind, scarcely knew the meaning of fear. But this thing, this bellowing giant, unnerved him. If it was not killed by arrows, what hope had he? Should he stand his ground or flee?

The indecision cost the captain his miserable life. Unsure what to do as Navid lumbered towards him, he froze. The fight, such as it was, ended with a single blow of the Constant’s mighty axe.

Unable to bend over because of his girth, the victor knelt and seized something from the dust at his feet. He rose again, swung it round a few times, then hurled it far into the grey-black waters of the No-Man. The head of Captain Jumshid sank like a rock.

Cyrus arrived at his friend’s side in time to help him push the decapitated body into the river. They quickly scoured the surrounding scrub to confirm that the Zed had indeed been acting alone and called back to the others that it was safe. Navid then pulled off Roxanne’s rough woollen dress and unwrapped the protective layers of bark and thick leaves packed between it and his own tunic.

Meanwhile, Roxanne and Taja had cut a long pole from a tree and pushed it across the gap to act as a handrail. As they jammed their end firmly between two intersecting girders, Cyrus used a length of twisted creeper to secure his end to a rusty upright.

Taja went first, holding firmly to the pole to keep her balance. Then Roxanne grasped Sammy’s hand and guided him safely across. As she neared them, Cyrus and Navid looked away. Although not prudish, the Tallins prided themselves on their sense of respect: they were not shocked by Roxanne’s bare chest but felt it would have been bad manners to stare too obviously at so handsome a woman wearing only a pair of coarse linen breeches.

Shouting to Corby to stay where he was, Navid stepped onto the rail. “Soon have you over, old boy,” he called. The dog was obviously worried. His ears pricked and he whined, looking anxiously behind him. Seconds later, when Navid was about halfway across, the source of his faithful companion’s anxiety came bursting over the top of the bank and howling down towards the river.
The Grozny Zeds and their hounds had found their quarry – and Corby was stuck on the wrong side of the gap.

What occurred next would become a legend in Constant folklore. Seeing the danger to his master and his friends, Corby ran to the end of the bridge and stood there snarling, defying anyone to pass. Had he remained there, he would certainly have been killed.

Navid, perched on a narrow rail above the dark waters, made a swift calculation. If he went forward to fight beside his dog, he too would die. At best, he might delay the assault on the crossing by a moment or two. On the other hand, if he retreated, there was a chance…

Deftly keeping his footing, Navid swivelled round and hurried back to the metal footpath on the far end of the bridge. By now the leading Zeds, struggling to keep up with their straining hounds, had almost made it onto the bridge themselves. One or two were already bending forward to unleash their animals. Navid raised his fingers to his mouth and gave a long, shrill whistle. “Here, Corby!” he yelled. “Come here, boy! Run!”

For an instant the dog paused, unsure whether to obey his instinct or his master. Loyalty won. Turning, he bounded down the bridge. Behind him, half a dozen Zed dogs, now freed from their handlers, set off in pursuit.

Corby had the advantage of knowing what lay ahead. As he approached the opening, he seemed to measure his pace like a long jumper. When his nose was level with the end of the path, he crouched like a lion and sprang.

No human could have cleared that dreadful gap and probably no other dog. Rising like a stupendous bird, Corby’s dark shape arced upwards against the evening sky. For a split second, it hung there before falling in a steepening curve towards the distant walkway.

Somewhere in the twilit background, Sammy cried out, “Go, Corby! Go!”

The leap was mighty, yet not quite sufficient. The dog’s broad head, shoulders and front paws reached the safety of the other side, but his rear legs and the bulk of his heavy body were left dangling in mid-air. Very slowly, claws scrabbling desperately for a grip on the slippery metal, Corby began to slide backwards into the void.

Navid saved him. Now free of his cumbersome padding, he darted forward and grabbed his loyal companion by the collar. Sammy was soon kneeling next to him and the two of them hauled the quivering creature to safety.

The Zed hounds were less fortunate. Ignorant of the missing span, they hurtled along the iron platform until it suddenly disappeared beneath their feet. Six animals that Timur could ill afford to lose spun slowly in the thick air and splashed into the black water below. Like all dogs, the creatures swam instinctively – but the skill was of little use. The waiting crocodiles, their appetites whetted by the corpse of Jumshid and alerted by the noise from the bridge, seized the hounds in their merciless jaws and dragged them down into the oily depths.

By this time, Timur had appeared on the bank above the river. Abandoning his canopy and escort, he had joined in the chase himself to ensure that Roxanne was taken alive. He speedily assessed the situation. Sheza and Jumshid had plainly failed him; he would deal with them later – if they were still alive. At least he now knew exactly where the Constants were and their numbers. Two men, two women, a dog and what looked like a boy. Hmm. They really shouldn’t be that much of a problem.

The first thing was to get across the bridge. As it would be impossible to balance on a single railway line and fight at the same time, the pathway needed to be broader. The obvious way to do that was to lay pieces of wood across the tracks. Immediately, orders went out for his men not to attack across the lines in the dark but to cut logs three paces long and pile them up at the entrance to the bridge ready for an attack in the morning.
The plan was a good one. It was never put into operation, however, because by dawn the third span of the bridge, like the central one, had disappeared. With it had gone the rails, the last link across the No-Man. The river had become impassable.

While Navid and Sammy were busy saving Corby, the others had gathered armfuls of dry sticks and grass from the bank and laid them on the wooden beams beneath the rails on their side of the bridge. Their intention had been simply to build a fire in order to hold up the Zeds and give the mission time to get away. It was soon clear, once the flames had taken hold of the remaining wood on which the rails rested, that the conflagration would do more than delay the Grozny. Working by the light of the fire, the Constants fed the blaze with everything combustible they could lay their hands on. As the inferno soared higher and higher, the old iron, weakened by decades of rust, began to twist and groan in the extreme heat. Once-mighty girders buckled like green twigs. Below them, the crumbling brickwork of the pier cracked and splintered.