"I understand the reasoning," Beorn growled. "Now I'm waiting… firstly to hear why you didn't say this earlier and secondly to hear you brought materials to build a new bridge."
Lieutenant Trask began to sweat. "I… We… No, Marshal. We don't have materials to build a new bridge."
Beorn fought an impulse to draw his sword and run the man through, or at least demote him. He pushed the urge down with a scowl. The Tingaran officers in the army didn't need any more excuses for enmity with the Alturans.
Beorn closed his eyes and breathed slowly in and then out. Rogan had entrusted him with this task, Beorn reminded himself, and he would see it through.
"I… I'm sorry, Marshal," Lieutenant Trask said.
"Don't worry, Lieutenant," Beorn said, opening his eyes. "I'll take care of it. I have an idea."
Their small sailing ship tacked twice more before reefing sails as they approached the rickety pier.
The vessel's captain came over, frowning as he checked on his ship's progress as it slid towards the jetty. "Marshal, please disembark quickly. This pier's no good for tying up to longer than a few minutes."
Beorn nodded acquiescence. "We'll get the men off right away."
Soon the ship had unloaded her cargo of Tingaran soldiers and drawn away from the island, the captain anxious to maintain a safe distance from the cliffs. Marshal Beorn stood on the rickety pier, looking up at the heights.
"Lead the way, Lieutenant," Beorn instructed Trask. "Take me to the convicts."
Trask led Beorn and his dozen men up a precarious path, with wooden steps wedged into the cliff. Beorn felt every one of his years as he grabbed onto the rocky walls for stability, his calves burning and breath coming hoarse.
"Are you all right, Marshal?" Lieutenant Trask asked.
"Fine," Beorn muttered. "Just keep going."
Eventually they reached the heights, where a series of tablelands made up the place the convicts called home. Huts were clustered here and there with small vegetable gardens outside most. Goats roamed around, bleating and moaning as they scattered out of the soldiers' way.
The convicts had seen the ship coming from far away, and were already lined up, scores of them standing with their hands clasped behind their backs. Beorn saw mostly old men, with a few of them middle-aged. There wouldn't be any trouble here.
"Ask them to come forward, Lieutenant," Beorn said.
"Come forward!" Trask called. "Marshal Beorn wants to speak with you!"
Beorn waited until they had taken three steps forward before speaking. At least he wouldn't have to shout over the wind.
"Emperor Xenovere, the fifth of that name, is dead," Beorn said. The convicts stirred, exchanging glances. "For those of you who want to, there may be an opportunity to go home. Back in Seranthia your cases will be examined, fairly and impartially, and any of you here for political reasons may find yourselves free men."
"Looks like we're all free then!" a voice called out from the crowd.
Lieutenant Trask put his hand on his sword and stepped forward, but Beorn silenced him with a glare.
"The courts will decide your fate, but I can promise you fair trials, with each of your cases independently judged. However first I need your help with something. I've come for Lady Alise."
"What have you come for?" one of the convicts, a tall man with a square jaw, asked. "She should never have been sent here in the first place."
The square-jawed convict was greeted by a chorus of support.
"I'm here to take her home," Beorn said. "You're correct. She should never have been sent here. I have orders from the Lord Regent, Rogan Jarvish, to free Lady Alise and restore her titles to her. I'm to take her to Seranthia."
Beorn's words were met with a ragged cheer.
"I have to ask you, however," Beorn addressed the square-jawed convict. "Can you build a bridge over the chasm?"
"'Course we can," the convict said. "We never did in the past though 'cause there are some here who actually belong in this place. The good lady don't want the likes of them creeping up on her in the middle of the night."
"Thank you," Beorn said, "that's all I needed to know." He raised his voice. "Any man who helps build a bridge across the chasm will have their assistance noted."
"We don't need our assistance noted," said the square-jawed convict. "Come on, fellows. There might not be much left for us back home, but let's give the lady help getting off this rock, shall we?"
"Well?" Beorn said, looking at Lieutenant Trask.
"Well what?"
"We've got twelve strong men here, plus the two of us. Send word back to the captain of the ship… We might be here a while. Let's give these men a hand."
~
THE BRIDGE was a makeshift structure of tree logs and nailed planks of wood. Lieutenant Trask stationed his men at each end while he and Marshal Beorn set off to find Lady Alise.