–Cross–
He made his way onto the bridge, allowing himself to take his time, working hard at staying calm enough to think everything through. The bridge arch provided a wide span for crossing, but there were no guardrails or walls. As he moved onto the walkway, he could see down into a ravine that fell steeply away below. It was an endless drop into blackness, and, after twenty feet of walls grown thick with vegetation and gnarled roots, it became a void.
He took a single glance to either side and did not take another. He forced himself instead to focus his attention on the stone pathway before him. He kept to the exact middle of the span so that he would not be tempted to go closer to the edge. The lure to do so was present; he could feel it. But because he was always taking risks, always tempting the fates—just as Mirai had said—he knew better than to put himself within reach.
As he neared the far side of the bridge and began looking up into the huge old trees that grew there, he heard singing. It was in the air around him, swirling about, drawing him in. The voices were soft and sweet, and while the words were indistinct, the music was soothing. He could feel his fears and doubts diminishing and his confidence growing. It was an unwarranted response to what was happening, but the voices were compelling.
He came down off the bridge and stood looking into the forest. The trees towered over him, their huge trunks more than a dozen feet across, their great limbs canopied overhead to blot out the sky, leaving the forest dark and layered in shadows. Nothing moved within the trees; no sounds came from the gloom.
Where was he supposed to go now?
–Come–
As if they had read his mind, the voices beckoned. Their music shifted and took him forward and slightly left of where he stood. The bridge disappeared behind him. His companions vanished. He was alone on his quest, and he was faced with discovering at last if his journey had been in vain or if it might provide some hope for finding Redden and putting an end to the threat from the Straken Lord. Even as he considered what he was trying to achieve, he was confronted anew with the foolishness of it. To think that he would be able to find a woman who had disappeared more than a hundred years ago alive and well and then persuade her to come back with him to face a monster that wanted things of her she could not possibly provide was the height of arrogance. He wondered at what had made him think he could do this.
And yet, right from the beginning, it had seemed to him that he could succeed. He had told himself that this was the path he must travel. Even knowing how impossible it seemed, he was drawn toward it. He wondered now, remembering how he had disdained the advice of the King of the Silver River, how he had ignored what his instincts told him about the Grimpond’s duplicity, how he had refused to allow common sense to intercede and the possibility of failure to color his hopes. The warnings had been given, the odds against him made clear, and still he had persisted.
He continued ahead, knowing only that he was moving toward something and whatever he found would bring about some sort of resolution. He told himself—insisted to himself—that it would be enough.
Questions crowded his mind as he listened to the music of the creatures leading him. Would he find Grianne Ohmsford here, somewhere in the ruins of Stridegate, as the ring suggested he would? Was she still alive? He felt from the tugging of the thread that she was, but he couldn’t be certain. The tugging might just as easily lead him to her grave.
“Who are you?” he again asked the voices leading him.
This time, they answered.
–Aeriads–
Aeriads. Spirits of the air. The creatures that served the tanequil. “Where are you taking me?”
–She waits. She knows–
“Who?”
–Come–
He felt them moving away, and so he followed. The thread seemed to be following them as well, prodding him in the same direction. He was deep in the forest now, surrounded by the great old trees, a part of the shadows, a tiny transient life-form among ancients. He glanced about for movement, but found none. There was no sign of anything present save for the voices.
As he advanced, he rehearsed in his mind what he would say to Grianne. What words would he need to persuade her to his cause? He had come so far and risked so much, and yet he had no firm idea of what it would take. Even now, after all this time, he was uncertain.
He felt a chill run through him. He wasn’t equal to this; he didn’t have what was needed. He was going to fail.
–Come–
But to turn back now was unthinkable, an act of cowardice and an admission of defeat. He must do what he came to do and find a way to succeed.