“Functionally Immortal, Dragons grow stronger and larger with age. But even their endless vitality and boundless strength pales in comparison to the sheer amount of Mana they naturally exude.”

Chapter 38

The ancient stone bridge spanned a wide gorge, suspended hundreds of feet about the ground below. Dwarven built, the construction was a testament to their skills and enduring craftsmanship. Even a thousand years after it was erected, it still stood strong, unmoved by the changing seasons.

A thousand years of rain and snow. The thawing and refreezing of stone had created some cracks and worn some of the sharp stone edges to a rounded smoothness, but the bridge still held power. A trait imbued into it by the hardy race who had fashioned it.

The dwarves had not been seen in the northern Illyrian mountains for hundreds of years, but many of their relics and constructs remained. Evidence of their existence and proof of their skilled stone working abilities.

The bridge crossed over a deep gorge, created by a swift running river fed by a large cascade of water from the tallest mountain in the north. The town of Grand Falls had gotten its name from this waterfall.

The Grand Falls of Illyria were fed by a freshwater mountain lake that would never freeze, even in the depths of winter and the coldest northern temperatures.

The lake was a natural hot spring, heated by the burning heart of the mountain. The dwarves had built a large underground city here, their forges using the mountain’s fiery core to craft their wondrous objects and weapons. Dwarven goods were sought throughout the world for its quality.

When they retreated from the surface world, cutting off all contact, the passages to their famed city were all sealed. The fate of their Dwarven neighbors became a mystery to the humans of Illyria. Numerous expeditions into the mountains revealed only old ruins, long abandoned.

The caravan had finally arrived at the bridge, fighting off the last of the Bugbear raiders as they left the forest valley behind. The path to the bridge was across barren rock, with no shelter from the gusting wind and stinging snow.

Bell pointed at the Waterfall, completely frozen in the distance. “Look Lad. You’re right that something’s off around here. I’ve never heard of the waterfall freezing.”

“It’s cold, Bell. I don’t think it’s strange that water would freeze in this weather.” Mara said, wrapping her arms around herself and stamping her feet to keep warm.

“No, Bell’s right. When the Empire first came this far north, back before the Dwarves withdrew from the surface, the first settlers who built Grand Falls called it the ‘Rainbow Bridge.’ The mist from the waterfall would make a rainbow, all year round.”

“I thought you had never been this far north before, Wil?” Mara asked, tilting her head at him.

“I haven’t” Wil shook his head, “But I studied history at the Academy. The Dwarven ruins here were part of my studies.” Wil said, turning to look back at the frozen waterfall.

“I’ve never read about any ruins, but I’ve wintered here in the past. The lake that feeds that waterfall is warm as piss, all year round. Swam in it myself when I was younger.” Bell said, taking a long pull from his flask and staring at the bridge in the distance.

“Swam in a lot of piss before, have you Bell?” Mara laughed. Bell grinned at the younger woman.

“Aye, nothing like it, want to give it a try? I can’t fill a tub, but I can give you a quick spray.” Bell cackled as the younger woman laughed along.

Wil tuned out their teasing, having grown used to it over their travels. Bell was mentoring the young woman. He was close friends with her father and Mara considered him to be like an uncle.

As they approached the bridge, the group could see other wagons and carts through the swirls of blowing snow. Wil, when he noticed the waiting vehicles, stood up in his saddle to get a better view.

“There’s a line to cross.” Wil said to Bell. The older man stood upright in his saddle as well, squinting his eyes at the bridge.

Bell shook his head. “God’s Bones, the bridge is wide enough for a half dozen carts to pass side by side.”

“Could be blocked, there’s enough snow for it.” Mara asked, gesturing to the now almost waist high snow drifts around them.

“If the bridge is out, then we’re screwed. It’s the only way to make it to Grand Falls within fifty miles of here. The horses will never make it to the other crossings.” Bell said, before letting out a string of curses at the snow.

“I’ll ride ahead, see what’s happening.” Wil offered, before nudging Snowflake to pick up the pace. He passed the few wagons and cart ahead of him, slowing down again as he reached Quentin’s carriage at the front of the caravan.

Nodding to the driver, who was bundled heavily in the snow, Wil called out to Annabelle Quentin. Seeing the flap lift and he grinned at her as he saw her pretty face.

“What now? Are you here to sing a love ballad for me?” She had a fake scowl on her face and was fighting to not smile at him.

“Alas, Miss Merchant, our courtship will need to pause momentarily.” He said to her playfully, before his face and tone turned serious. “There’s a group of wagons and carts at the bridge ahead. We think there might be trouble crossing.”

Quentin’s face dropped her scowl and turned serious as well. “If we can’t cross here, we’ll have to head back the way we came, try one of the other crossings.” Her voice went quiet, and Wil moved his horse closer to hear her over the wind and the sounds from the horses.

“Wil, we won’t survive out here much longer.” She said to him, careful to not be overheard by the driver.

He nodded at her words. “I know, I’m going to ride ahead and see what’s happening.”

“I’m coming with you.” She said, before opening the door of the slowly moving carriage.

“Annabelle, are you insane?” Wil shouted as Quentin reached for his horse in order to climb on. He barely had time to grab a hold of her and haul her up behind him.

“See? Nothing to worry about, I’m paying you good coin to keep me safe!” She said, grinning at Wil as she sat behind him on Snowflake.

“Not nearly enough.” Wil grumbled, closing the carriage door and urging his horse towards the bridge. Annabelle threw her arms around Wil as the horse picked up speed.

They soon left the slow-moving caravan behind. It quickly became barely visible in the blowing snow. The closer they came to the bridge, the harder the wind howled. Quentin pulled her heavy fur lined hood close around her head and buried her face in Wil’s back to block the icy air.

They arrived at the bridge after a short ride, coming upon a large gathering of heavily loaded wagons, carts and carriages.

There were individuals and families walking, carrying their belongings on their backs and in their arms. Hundreds of heavily bundled people gathered in large groups around fires, sheltered by tarps and canvas for warmth as they waited to cross the bridge.

Wil brought his horse to a stop near one of the waiting groups. He dismounted from Snowflake and offered Annabelle a hand down as well. They walked to the fire, thankful for the warmth after their ride through the storm.

Wil turned to one of the men next to him, an older man bundled in furs and blankets, his face barely visible. After exchanging short greetings, Wil asked why they were all waiting here and not crossing.

“There’s too much snow and ice built up on the bridge for the horses and wagons to make it across. One of the bigger trade caravans is clearing it, but it’s slow going.”

Nodding to the other man, Wil gestured to Quentin to follow him as they left the group, leading Snowflake towards the bridge.

Wil could see that beyond the line of wagons and groups of people waiting, the dark stone bridge had a thick layer of ice and snow built up on it. The elements had almost completely obscured the dwarven craftsmanship below it.

As they approached, he could see men and women about halfway across the bridge. They were digging a narrow passageway large enough for a single horse and wagon to pass through the snow drifts. The large drifts were taller than the digging men and woman in places, forcing them to weave their passage around them.

The people clearing the bridge, over a dozen or so, seemed to work in shifts. Wil could see others standing and waiting with shovels for their turn. Another large group were maintaining the already dug path from the blowing snow that threatened to destroy their hard work.

Wil turned to look at Quentin, shaking his head to his companion, before turning and heading back to the fire to get warm.