Part X – The Burning Bridge
Part X-B: The Fire
The world dropped.
For one weightless instant, there was no sound—only the hot wind tearing past his ears and Anna's scream breaking apart beside him. The bridge's shadow swung over them like a great black wing. Then the river rose up and hit.
The impact tore the breath from his lungs. Cold water closed over his head, hard as stone, swallowing the firelight and replacing it with green-black murk. He kicked blindly, pulling Anna against his chest. The current caught them, dragging them sideways through ash and broken planks. His shoulder struck something—wood or bone, he couldn't tell.
They surfaced choking. Smoke hung low over the river, turning the air to grit. Above them, the bridge still burned—an inverted sun. Flaming debris rained down in slow arcs, hissing when they met the water.
"Anna!" He could barely hear his own voice over the roar. She coughed, clinging to his tunic.
"I—I can't see—"
"Hold on!" He threw an arm around her and turned with the current. Every breath tasted of ash. The current pulled faster, toward the far bank where the surviving soldiers shouted orders. He saw Valen on the ridge, a silhouette against the fire, sword flashing as he cut a goblin from the planks.
"Downriver!" someone yelled. "They're coming from the east bank!"
Luk tried to swim, but his arms were lead. The water stung like acid against his eyes. Something brushed his leg—he kicked at it instinctively and felt it coil away. The river was full of wreckage, and not all of it dead.
–––
A burning beam struck the surface nearby, exploding into sparks. The wave slammed into them, spinning Luk under again. He caught a glimpse of orange light filtering through the water—the reflection of the inferno above—then darkness. His lungs screamed. When he broke the surface again, the bridge was gone.
Only pieces remained: floating timbers, bodies, smoke curling from what had been the central span. On the near side, goblins swarmed the remains of the structure, howling, their shadows flickering like insects around flame.
"Keep her head up!" Valen's voice carried faintly over the noise. He was on the far bank now, half-shrouded in smoke, waving them in.
Luk couldn't answer. He just swam.
Anna's weight pulled at him, small but relentless. Her breath came in ragged gasps against his neck. The current fought them with every stroke. The smell of tar and burning oil coated the river, slick beneath his hands. Every movement left a smear of soot on his skin.
He saw movement along the shore—Delun's banner, the Lionroar crest half-torn but still standing. Archers lined the bank, firing into the smoke.
"Almost there," Luk whispered, though the shore seemed to crawl away from him each time he looked. "Almost—"
Then something caught his leg. A rope—or a hand.
He looked down.
A goblin, half-burned and still alive, clung to his boot. Its skin was split and blackened, its eyes two pits of firelight. It snarled soundlessly through the water, teeth flashing.
Luk kicked, once, twice. The thing didn't let go. He could feel its nails slicing into his calf. Blood clouded the water in slow ribbons.
Anna screamed. "Luk!"
He went under.
–––
The world shrank to bubbles and motion. He could see nothing but the white flash of his own blood. The goblin's arm was on fire even under the water, the flame burning slow and blue. It dragged him down with impossible strength. His chest felt ready to burst.
Then a blur—silver and red—cut through the murk above him. A blade. The goblin's grip went slack. The body drifted away, limbs twitching.
A hand grabbed his collar and hauled him upward.
Valen.
He broke the surface, gasping, coughing water and smoke. Valen's armor was scorched, his face blackened with soot. "You're heavier than you look," the knight grunted. "Can you move?"
Luk coughed again, clutching Anna. "She—she's breathing."
"Good." Valen scanned the burning wreck behind them, jaw tight. "Then run when I tell you."
He half-dragged them toward the shore. Arrows hissed past, landing in the shallows. Goblin shrieks echoed from the far side as more poured down the ridge, their silhouettes warped by the smoke.
"Commander!" Valen shouted toward the wall. "Light it!"
A horn answered—low, three notes—and the hillside above them bloomed in fire. Oil trenches ignited in a chain reaction, turning the riverbank into a wall of flame. The goblins shrieked as the fire rolled through them.
"Go!" Valen shoved Luk toward the gap between two boulders. "Get her clear!"
Luk stumbled onto the shore, coughing. The ground was hot beneath his palms. Anna collapsed beside him, shaking uncontrollably. He pulled her close, covering her with what remained of his cloak.
Behind them, Valen waded backward into the shallows, still fighting, still shouting orders as more soldiers poured down the slope to form a defensive line.
For a moment, the sky above Westernlight was all orange and gold, a false dawn made of ruin.
–––
Then came the sound that silenced everything.
A deep, cracking groan from within the earth itself. The bridge supports, already charred through, finally gave way. What remained of the structure folded inward with a thunderclap. Flame met water; steam exploded upward in a column that blotted out the stars.
Luk threw himself over Anna as the shockwave hit. Scalding mist tore across the riverbank, carrying with it fragments of wood and bone. He couldn't tell which were which.
When the wind died, the only sound left was the hiss of cooling metal and the slow, uneven rhythm of the river reclaiming what was left.
Valen stood alone in the shallows, sword lowered, staring at the burning horizon. His armor steamed. The look on his face wasn't triumph—it was exhaustion, the kind that sinks too deep to ever leave.
Luk met his eyes for an instant across the smoke. Valen gave a small nod. Then he turned away.
–––
The night went quiet except for the crackle of dying fires. Luk could feel Anna's heartbeat against his arm, small and frantic.
"It's over," he whispered. But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't. The fire might have stopped, but the war hadn't. Not really.
He looked back toward the river—toward the place where the bridge had been. The water still burned in patches, small flames drifting like ghosts. And somewhere beneath that glow, something moved—a dark ripple against the current.
A shape. Watching.
The bridge was gone. But something had crossed.