Morwyn leaned against the side of Hazel's wagon, sipping coffee from her tin mug as she waited for the caravan to move out. Sunrise came later in the day in such close proximity to the mountains and the folks hurrying to pack the last of their belongings rubbed their hands together and shivered against the chill of the cool spring morning. Her breath, warmed by the coffee, fogged the air with each measured exhale. Despite all that had occurred since she'd joined Rennock's merry band of misfits, it felt as if they were finally under way.
She'd spent the previous day alone as she'd meandered through the streets of Lonely Harbor in daylight hours for the first time. It had been an odd experience walking into stores with enough coin in her purse to purchase what she needed without bargaining with the shopkeepers over prices. Though she'd gathered the necessities for a long journey- spare clothing, coffee, tobacco, and plenty of soap- she'd spent the majority of her coin at a little shop on the corner of the town square named Oddities and Artifacts. It was the first place that she'd come across in a long time that had a decent selection of scrolls... and for once she could afford them.
She adjusted the fit of her new bandolier that held four small scroll cases securely against her chest, each with four scrolls wrapped tightly within. She was familiar enough with the use of healing scrolls but she'd taken the risk of picking up a few new ones that she hoped would prove beneficial along the journey. She'd been delighted that the majority of them were written in the Common Tongue, and though some were in the flowing Elvish script she made absolutely certain they weren't in cursive.
Though her coinpurse was light once again, for the first time in a long while that fact didn't worry at her mind like a splinter. Coin wouldn't do her much good where they were heading.
Hazel hurried past her as she made her final checks down the line of wagons to make sure all were healthy and prepared. The had been too busy to speak much since the night at the bathhouse, but her shy smile told Morwyn that the moment hadn't been forgotten. A warmth blossomed in her chest as she returned the smile in kind. They each had their duties to worry about for now, but despite her worries to the contrary, the spark she'd felt in the darkness glowed on.
Perhaps after the Narrows...
Morwyn was distracted from her musing by the sight of one of the wagons pulling out of line and turning around to head westward as they left the caravan. It was the second to so since they'd reached Lonely Harbor and she was disappointed to note that the driver was one of the cooks. The dwarf and his wife looked ashamed at first, though they seemed to brighten a little as the remaining members of the caravan sent them off with cheers and cries of good fortune.
Though she was sad to see them go, Morwyn couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as she waved to the three children in the back of the wagon. She worried something fierce for the young ones that remained for the journey. Her eyes still tracked the wagon as it lumbered back toward town when another dwarf strode confidently up beside her.
“They made the right choice. Lovely folk, but I don't think they had the stomach for it,” Lady Trux said as she raised her own mug of coffee in salute. “Though I will miss Gwen's pastries.”
“This is the third family that's left since I've joined you,” Morwyn mused. “We're down to seven wagons. Is that normal?”
Trux took a loud sip of her coffee and shrugged.
“Couldn't say, as this is only my second run. I think my first was an outlier. We only had three.”
Morwyn lit up a smoke as she watched Argoth at the rear give the retreating wagon a friendly wave. A knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach as a question occurred to her, one she'd been too aloof or too nervous to ask before.
“How many made it to the end?”
Trux's expression hardened.
“Most.”
Even though she had expected such an answer, Morwyn still felt a pang of sympathy for her comrade. She nudged Trux and pointed toward the front of the wagon train where Hazel was gesturing rudely at Rennock, who held his hands out in supplication as he slowly backed away. Despite the fact that they couldn't hear the exchange, it was clear the healer was chastising the old wizard for something and he was begging her forgiveness.
“It may be dangerous, but with spirit like that, I can't help but have hope.”
Perhaps her gaze lingered a little too long on the way Hazel's hair caught the morning sun as it crested the mountains, or perhaps Trux was simply more intuitive than Morwyn realized. The dwarf looked up to her with an accusing squint and said something that nearly caused her to spit out her drink.
“You fancy her, don't you?”
Morwyn caught herself about to protest but paused and considered the question in silence for a time. As an outcast among other outcasts, she'd found a kindred spirit. Was that so strange? With the stakes of what they were about to face, what harm was there in allowing herself to admit such a thing?
“You know what? I just might.”
Trux turned away with a knowing smile. They watched on as Hazel smacked Rennock's knee and waved a finger up at him.
“Good,” Trux said, nodding in approval. “She puts on airs, but that little firebrand has been lonely for a long time... As have you. I can tell.”
“Birds of a feather,” Morwyn replied softly. She chuckled as Eronir placed himself between Hazel and Rennock, clearly trying to deescalate the situation. After his intervention Hazel and Rennock seemed to come to an understanding and shook hands. The old wizard mounted his wagon as Hazel gave an exaggerated curtsy to Eronir, who in turn rubbed his temples in consternation. The halfling flipped her short ponytail with one hand as she walked away, heading back toward her wagon.
“You'll have your hands full with that one,” Trux laughed, elbowing Morwyn in the side. “Why don't you stay ahead of her wagon today. We'll be goin' single file through the Narrows anyhow. I'll go up ahead with Gildur, I'm sure he's been dyin' for my company. Eronir and I can handle any trouble at the front, you and Argoth take the rear of the column.”
“How kind of you. Are you sure you don't offer because Hazel looks to be on the warpath?”
Trux gave her a wink and walked away without further commentary, though Morwyn noticed that she also gave Hazel a respectful berth as the two passed each other. Morwyn caught the tail end of muttered curses as the halfling arrived. She put both hands on her hips and let out a big sigh as she looked up to Morwyn.
“I think I put that dusty old bag of bones in his place this time,” she huffed as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress and adjusted her bodice.
“I hope you didn't dress him down on my account,” Morwyn said, her brows rising in alarm. Hazel gave her a quizzical look then smiled wryly and shook her head.
“Oh, not at all dear,” the halfling said with a wave of her hand. “The old fool just hasn't been taking his medicine. Complains of joint aches but doesn't take what I give him for it. I think the only herb he loves is the kind he can stuff in his pipe.”
“Maybe you should pack his pipe with medicine. He might not know the difference,” Morwyn suggested. A calculating look stole over Hazel's features and she tapped her chin with one finger.
“You know what? That just might work. And even if it doesn't, it'll be a riot to watch!”
Morwyn laughed and held out a hand to help Hazel up the ladder and onto the wagon. The halfling held her hand for a second or two longer than necessary before settling in for the ride. She gave Morwyn another one of her private, shy smiles that made her cheeks warm.
“Careful on the march today,” Hazel said cheerily. “Don't go getting yourself hurt. My supplies have to last a while, you know.”
“Don't worry, you'll be able to keep you're eyes on me the whole time,” Morwyn dutifully informed her. “My place is between your wagon and Gildara's today as we pass through the Narrows.”
Hazel leaned down from the bench seat and beckoned for Morwyn to come closer. She did so, nearly flinching in surprise as the halfling brushed the back of her fingers along her jaw as she whispered in her ear.
“Then I suppose I'll be able to enjoy the view,” she purred.
Morwyn felt the immediate flush of heat travel all the way down her spine as Hazel placed a soft kiss on her cheek. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat before Hazel settled back into her seat with a look of smug satisfaction.
“Now then, Miss Shrike, tend to your duties,” Hazel commanded in a rising tone. “As I must to mine. It appears my driver is asleep at the reins... again!”
Morwyn heard the rap of knuckles against the boy's forehead followed by a startled cry. She shook her head, unable to contain her grin as she took her place between the wagons. A moment later Gildara's wagon lurched forward and began to roll toward the eastern gate of Lonely Harbor and they were off. As she began the march into the unknown, she could still feel the lingering impression of Hazel's lips against her skin.
The halfling was bold. Morwyn figured that, given enough time, she could get used to it.
***
The road to the east transitioned from cobblestone to a simple dirt track that wound its way along the coastline for some time before the path quickly steepened. The sandy shore gave way to a cliff that rose ever higher as the mountains loomed ever closer to meet it. Within an hour of leaving town they reached the reached the entrance to the Narrows itself where the road was nothing more than a shelf on the side of a sheer rock face roughly two wagons wide. A guard tower, similar in design to those protecting the keep of Lonely Harbor, was carved into the side of the cliff. A waist-high wooden gate spanned the distance to the edge of the shelf, anchored to a column of stone on the far side.
Morwyn was too far back to hear any discussion that took place between the lead wagon and the soldiers of the garrison, but she noted the wary expressions on their faces as she walked through the gate. Perhaps they weren't used to such a large group passing through at once, though she decided it didn't matter as she split her focus between the wheels of the wagon ahead and the nervous oxen not far behind her. She didn't like the cornered look in the animals' eyes, though she couldn't blame them.
“Easy on the reins,” Morwyn called back to Hazel's driver. William, she recalled. The young teen's eyes were as wide as those of the oxen he drove. “Let them go at their own pace. They've got as much sense of self-preservation as you do. If you need to stop them do it gently.”
The boy nodded shakily and tried to relax his grip on the reins. Hazel put a comforting hand on his forearm and whispered something Morwyn couldn't hear, but William seemed to take comfort from it and nodded more firmly.
By the time the last wagon made it through and the soldiers closed gate closed behind them, a hush had fallen over the caravan. None of the usual chatter or singing accompanied the ride along the narrow ledge. In the absence of voices all she could here was the creaking of axles, the steady rhythm of hooves clapping against stone, and the occasional crunch of a pebble caught beneath a wagon's wheel. The crashing of the sea against the base of the cliff far below was an ever present metronome that lent no ambiguity to what would happen should someone slip over the edge.
They traveled on in near silence for several hours as a hollow dread began to build within Morwyn. Though it was gradual, she was certain that the ledge was narrowing further. With each passing step the margin for error grew ever more slim and she wasn't certain that she'd have time to intervene if anything did go wrong. Her hand strayed to the bandolier on her chest, mentally reciting which scrolls were in which cases. Only a few of them would be of any use here and she'd have to get them right the first time if they were necessary. There would be no second chance.
She nearly sighed with relief when the wagon in front of her slowly ground to a halt. When she peered around it on the cliff side to see what was going on she was met with a nervous smile from Gildara. The pretty elf smoothed back her wind-tossed hair and let out a shaky breath.
“We're stopping for half an hour or so to rest the oxen and change drivers if need be,” she called back to Morwyn. “Pass the word along?”
Morwyn raised a hand in acknowledgment and turned to do so. William looked weary from the stress of keeping the oxen in line, though he declined Morwyn's offer to find someone to take over for him. However, he did jump on the opportunity to pass the word down the line as a means to stretch his legs and check on his family, the last in line on the wagon train.
Meanwhile, Hazel gazed contemplatively at the shining sea beyond the cliff's edge. Other than the occasional rocky island, the only thing that broke the pattern of the waves was the reflection of the sun across the water.
“Isn't it beautiful?” she said as she stretched her legs and reached into a small side bag, retrieving a piece of hardtack and nibbling at the edge of the hard biscuit.
“It is,” Morwyn responded. She took a long swig from her canteen. “Though I'd rather be down there on a ship than up here. If you fall off a ship, at least you have the chance to swim.” Hazel gave her an nervous look as she shuffled to the left side of the bench, further from the edge.
“I didn't take you for a sailor. You seem the type to be more at home in the mountains.”
Morwyn caught the hint of worry in the halfling's tone and realized that she was probably making small talk to distract herself. Evidently she hadn't liked Morwyn's mention of the consequence of falling from such a height one bit.
“You'll find I'm full of surprises,” she said with a smile that was only slightly forced. Hazel wasn't the only one that needed a bit of distraction. She felt like a coiled spring herself, her muscles tense from the harrowing march. “I quite enjoy sailing, actually. Though you do have me figured right, I'm at home in the mountains. Glacial streams, high forests... and few people. I enjoy the solitude.”
“That certainly sounds more inviting than... whatever the hells this is,” Hazel murmured, gesturing to the sheer cliff that seemed to touch the sky above them. “I can't wait until we're free of this blasted narrow road. I wish I knew how much longer we have.”
“The locals back in town told me it'll take just beyond nightfall if we aren't delayed,” Morwyn said with a sigh. “I'm not looking forward to traversing this in the dark.”
“I-in the dark, you say?” William's voice, which already cracked occasionally when he spoke, was anxious as he squeezed between the wagon and the cliff. He wrung his hands nervously as he glanced between the two women. Hazel gave Morwyn a meaningful look before replying in an overly optimistic tone.
“Oh, not to worry, dear. Everything is going to be just fine. Morwyn here won't let anything happen to us.” She slipped into her position and patted the driver's seat with one hand. “She was just telling me how this whole journey would be boring if she didn't get to save anyone soon. Weren't you, Miss Shrike?”
Morwyn put on her best brave-older-sister face, the same she'd used to reassure her siblings so many times before. The same she'd used on the day she left them behind.
“That's absolutely right, Miss Willowbend. I've come to think this might be my easiest job yet. Don't you worry, William. I can see in the dark.”
The halfling raised an eyebrow at that, but when Morwyn gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head, Hazel merely rolled her eyes with a brief flash of a smile.
“See, what did I tell you? We're in good hands! Now be a good lad and get back up here, I can hear the other wagons starting to move.”
Morwyn gave the pair a reassuring nod as she took her place between the wagons once more. She hoped she wouldn't be called out on her bluff. It was one thing to rush to the aid of others on open ground in the daylight. One misstep in the dark and she'd be off the edge before she could blink. She shook her head of the dark thoughts and forced herself to keep a diligent eye on the wagons to her front and rear. Dwelling on the danger didn't lessen it, only vigilance could do that.
Claustrophobia began to truly wear at her nerves over the next several hours. The sun sank low in the sky behind them and painted the clouds with vibrant shades of pink and orange. The path constricted even further, to the point that the wagons occasionally scraped and bumped against the cliff as they fought to stay as far from the edge as possible. Even so, the outer wheels rode dangerously close to the precipice with only a few scant feet between their iron rims and sure destruction upon the rocks and water below.
Morwyn's entire world was condensed to a dozen paces between the rear of Gildara's wagon and the nervous animals behind her. She had some reprieve when they stopped briefly at dusk to light two lanterns on the front and rear of each wagon. The slowly rising moon was still nearly full and provided some light, the flames of the oil lamps served as guides for each driver to follow. She couldn't help but be impressed that the oxen didn't balk at the task; though their speed slowed to a crawl and they moved apprehensively, they still put one hoof in front of the other. She wasn't sure she'd be able to do the same in their position, strapped to a cart with nowhere to go.
“Just a few hours left,” Morwyn whispered to herself tiredly, absently toying with the toggles on her bandolier. “Please let this continue to be boring.”
It was but a moment later when she heard someone cry in alarm.
“Look out!” came a shrill cry from behind her. She had but a second to turn around and look up, her eyes widening with horror as several large chunks of stone fell from the top of the cliff high above. Morwyn's heart leapt into her throat as she watched them descend with all the unthinking, uncaring power of nature. The stones slammed down onto the shelf with a loud crack punctuated by terrified screams, though she couldn't see past Hazel's wagon to witness the damage.
“Easy, easy!” she commanded in a stern voice, holding up both hands as William yanked on the reins in a panic. She hoped the boy didn't hear the waver in her tone. She turned to Hazel and tried to keep her voice steady. “Try and hold here, but whatever you do, don't let the oxen run!”
Hazel nodded with grim determination as she pried the reins from William's white-knuckle grip and gently but firmly took control, pulling them to a stuttering stop as the beasts stomped and snorted in distress. For a moment Morwyn was at a loss for what to do; the beasts were agitated and would likely respond poorly if she tried to rush past them on the cliff side, but the alternative was to skirt the cliff's edge.
She didn't like either option, but when she heard Argoth shouting for help, it galvanized her into action. Her heart pounded so hard that she could nearly hear it as she walked slowly and murmured to the oxen in what she hoped was a soothing tone. They ignored her, but at least they didn't shy away or lash out with their horns as she tiptoed past them.
“What's the plan?” Hazel said through gritted teeth as she approached the bench.
Morwyn took a moment to think it through. Her jaw clenched when she came to her conclusion.
“I have to go around the outside,” she replied. “Your wagon's too full to climb through. Keep it steady. You and William scoot over and lean away from the cliff, just in case. If it starts to give, get off as quick as you can.”
Hazel gave hear an appalled, open-mouthed look of utter bewilderment.
“You can't be serious-”
Morwyn didn't wait around to press the point, afraid that her courage would fail her if she did. She gripped the tension ropes that held the canvas cover of the wagon in place and began to shuffle along the foot-wide ledge one shaky step at a time, fighting to keep her breathing under control. A rising gust of wind tousled her braid as she went. Thankfully it wasn't strong enough to offset her balance, just enough to make her curse under her breath. She moved only one hand or foot at a time, wishing for all the world she had either a pair of wings or the choice to never set foot on a cliff again.
After she reached the back of the wagon and nearly flung herself back toward the center of the path, Morwyn looked up to survey the scene. The screaming had stopped but had been replaced with desperate shouts of confusion and helplessness. One of the drivers of the wagons behind Hazel's was a wide-eyed woman that looked near to fainting while her male partner stood tall looked toward the rear with his hands on his head. He seemed like to pull his hair out at the roots. She recognized them as the family that had set up a shelter for her when she'd first joined the caravan, before she'd taken to staying in Hazel's larger tent.
Morwyn took the same cautious steps as she had done to get past the other oxen until she was beside the driver's bench. As she approached she could see that their wagon was not nearly as loaded down with cargo as Hazel's; it would be tight, but she thought she could climb through the center rather than skirt the outside again, which she wasn't keen to try a second time.
“I need to get up there and pass through!” she shouted up to the drivers. They turned to face her as if noticing her for the first time and gave her an incredulous look, but they shifted to their left as she climbed up. The opening was narrow on the front end of the canvas but with a bit of shuffling and swearing she was able to crawl through on her hands and knees, displacing luggage and bumping into the frightened passengers as she did so. A young girl, not quite ten, clutched a crying boy to her chest while their older brother leaned out the back of the wagon, wide eyed and frozen in place. Morwyn pushed him gently to the side and hopped out the back of the wagon and into a nightmare.
A massive stone had crushed the outermost ox of the last wagon from the midsection to the head, pinning it in place and fracturing the ledge where it stuck fast. The poor beast's hooves scattered wood and stone debris as they twitched in reflexive death throes. The other ox, white-eyed with fright, strained against the shattered yoke and harness as it thrashed to free itself though one of its hindquarters was pulverized. The canvas of the wagon was riddled with holes and collapsed on one side where the ribs had fractured.
One of the drivers, whom Morwyn realized must've been William's mother, slumped unconsciously in her husband's arms with a shattered leg. White bone protruded from the bloody wound. The man, though covered in dust and blood himself, tried in vain to pull her from the wreckage of the driver's seat which must have been struck by falling rock as well.
Worst of all she could see the wagon had both of its right wheels off the edge of the cliff, giving it a dangerous tilt as the whole thing started to scrape along its belly and inch ever closer to oblivion.
Morwyn could hear Argoth grunting with exertion from behind the wagon and assumed he was straining to keep it from sliding off. With a sinking feeling she realized the struggling of the remaining ox was accelerating the movement as it bellowed in fear and pain.
“Fuck,” she whispered, drawing her longsword.
She had no choice. If she healed the beast its thrashing would become even more violent. If she tried to cut it free it could trample her or throw her from the ledge in a panic, or even worse it could run into the next wagon in line and cause another catastrophe. She had to put it down quickly, and in a way that didn't send the wagon careening down into the sea.
Morwyn inched closer, crawling up onto the stone embedded into the path. One of her boots slipped in the massive pool of blood but she caught herself before she could fall. She had to move slowly, deliberately, or she risked getting tangled in the twisted limbs and broken tack of the animals. She crouched unsteadily atop the stone, now within her sword's reach of the surviving ox. It side-eyed her in a panic, frothing at the mouth as it kicked in vain to get away.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered dejectedly.
She had to go for the spine. Anything else would cause it to buck and thrash in pain and all would be for naught. Morwyn took several deep breaths and tried to recall the feelings she'd had during the fight with the worgs. The fear, the pain, the giddy high of adrenaline. For the first time she wanted the horrible chill of her frost, needed it to manifest, yet none appeared. Her blood still pounded hot. She thought back to her feckless rage in the pine forest outside of Hearthvarn at the unfairness of her persecution. Still, nothing happened.
Her mind snapped back to the present, to her burning desire to do something, anything to keep these people from falling to their deaths. It was not the time to fear for her own life nor to lash out in impotent rage, but a moment of quiet purpose and lethal intent. Something deep within her stirred, like a hollow in her chest filling to the brim with icy determination, frigid euphoria. On pure instinct she willed that cold out from that well within her center and down through her arms.
As she raised her sword with both hands, her breath fogged the air and the blade turned a deep and wicked blue.
It flashed in the moonlight and the ox's struggle ended as cold steel passed through its neck with a merciful arc. This time, rather than retreating in confusion and fear from her magic, she fought to pull it back into herself, back into that hollow at her center. Back where it belonged. Secured, controlled, but not forgotten and without shame. The frosty blue vanished from her blade and the frozen blood that coated it cracked off and fell to the ground as the hoarfrost covering her hands vaporized into mist.
The world around her came into sharp focus as the wagon shifted another few inches over the edge. Though her private struggle felt minutes long, she'd only lost a few seconds... but those seconds were precious. She thrust her sword back into its scabbard and scrambled over the wreckage toward the drivers. The man was disoriented and stared at her with shock at what he'd witnessed.
“I'll help you move her,” Morwyn said quickly, her voice echoing down the cliff. “We have to get away from the wagon.”
“Sooner the better,” Argoth grunted loudly. She could hear the strain in his voice and though she couldn't see what he was doing, she knew it was taking everything he had to keep the wagon in place.
The driver snapped out of his catatonic state and nodded shakily as he adjusted his position, gripping his wife beneath her arms as Morwyn gingerly lifted her legs clear of the splintered wood and shattered stone. The fracture was bad and she needed help, but she'd seen folk survive worse. Her muscles strained as they worked to position the woman over her shoulders, but once they did so the man helped her keep balance as they maneuvered over the wreckage and carcasses and onto the flat stone of the ledge beyond.
Once they were clear and had laid the woman down gently on the ground, Morwyn quickly stood up and was startled to see Hazel clamoring out the back of the next wagon. She was pale with fright and her hands shook, but she sprinted over to the injured woman and waved Morwyn off immediately as she inspected the wound. The woman's husband started to rise and turn back to the wagon, but Hazel gave him a sharp rebuke.
“No! I need you here. Morwyn, go! I've got this!”
Morwyn nodded in gratitude ran back to the broken wagon, shouting as she did so.
“Argoth, I've got the drivers free! What do you need?”
The orc grunted as the wagon shifted again. The wheel at the front was mere inches from the edge now, only moments from slipping off. If the ox were still thrashing it would've done so already.
“Child,” he shouted back.
With a desperate surge of energy Morwyn turned sideways and shuffled through the gap between the cliff wall and the wagon, careful not to put any weight against the frame as she did so. On the other side she saw Argoth gripping the rear axle with both hands. He sat on the ground like a ship's rower with his feet braced against the head of a huge black war hammer sunk deeply into the stone. Without hesitation she ran up beside him and scanned the darkness in the back of the wagon. The face of a terrified child peered back, nearly at the front of the cargo area.
“Come here, quickly!” Morwyn called out. The boy, frozen in shock, didn't move or even react. Morwyn cursed and shook her head to clear it.
“Argoth, hold fast. I'm going to try something.”
The orc didn't grace her with a response. The veins on his neck and arms bulged and he snarled with the effort of holding the wagon in place. In the light of the lanterns that still hung from the back, Morwyn dug through her bandolier and retrieved a scroll. It contained a simple spell that was only activated by a single command word, rather than a complex incantation. She unfurled it and felt the distant connection to the constructed magic begin to swell. It was impersonal compared to the frigid well within her but was far more familiar. She placed a hand on the timber of the wagon and released the pulse of energy with a shout as the wagon began to slide freely, despite Argoth's best efforts.
“Halt!”
She hadn't been sure if it would work on an object the size of the wagon, but when the spell took hold she could feel it grind to a stop and root firmly in place. Argoth, feeling the reprieve, relaxed his grip if only slightly. He heaved a few deep breaths as Morwyn dove into the back of the wagon. Knowing the spell would only last a minute or so, she scrambled over broken crates and barrels of spilled provisions to grab the child unceremoniously by the collar. She pulled him through the wreckage and had him halfway out of the back when the spell faded.
Argoth bellowed with effort as he took the weight once again and the wagon lurched dangerously. Morwyn grabbed the child by the belt and tossed him to the right as hard as she could at the awkward angle, watching him roll until he bumped against the relative safely of the cliff wall. She began to heave herself out after him but her stomach dropped when she realized her scabbard was stuck in the wreckage.
She struggled to free herself, heart pounding like a war drum as she heard the snapping of wood and leather from the front of the wagon. It pivoted sharply and pitched downward at a sharp angle, three wheels now dangling over the side of the cliff. With one last, desperate pull, she managed to dislodge her scabbard from the debris and tumbled out of the back to land beside Argoth.
The moment she was free he released the axle and the wagon tumbled over the edge, dragging an ox and a half and a shower of stones with it as it went. Argoth lay beside her, his face scrunched up in tremendous pain.
“Are you alright?” Morwyn asked in a daze. The orc simply nodded and pointed in the direction of the child, his priority clear. Morwyn struggled up to her knees and crawled over to the boy who was just starting to come to his senses as well. She checked him for wounds and, finding none more serious than a few scrapes and bruises, helped him to stand just as his father ran through the rubble and embraced him tightly.
“Thank the gods,” the man wept, cradling his son to his chest as he skirted the crushed ox to return to his wife's side.
Morwyn struggled to catch her breath as she rested on all fours. A moment later Argoth groaned and sat up, pushing sweaty strands of his long black hair out of his face. He gave her a nod of approval.
“Not... fuckin'... bad,” he said between breaths.
“Speak for yourself, you old brute,” Morwyn replied with a tired grin. She sat back on her heels and closed her eyes as she heaved for air. Her mouth watered as if she were going to be sick from the exertion and she spat on the ground. A moment later she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Are you two alright?” Rennock asked, his voice grave.
Morwyn was too scattered to be surprised by the wizard's sudden presence. She nodded and Argoth gave a grunt of affirmation. Rennock helped her to her feet and the two of them together did the same for Argoth. They stood there for a moment in silence, watching Hazel tend to the wounded several yards ahead. Between them stood the boulder with half an ox still crushed beneath its bulk.
“This should not have happened,” Rennock said in a low tone. There was anger in his voice that Morwyn had never heard before and his bushy brows drew together in a deep frown.
“What do you mean?” Morwyn asked, stretching her sore shoulders. Her right now hurt almost as much as her left. Rennock gestured to the narrow path and the stone wall of the cliff beside them.
“This route is reinforced by magic to protect against such things,” he explained as he stroked his beard, his brows furrowed deeply. “I have sensed nothing amiss with the stone warding, even when those rocks fell. This is... troublesome.”
Argoth cracked his neck first one way, then the other. He ushered Morwyn and Rennock forward with a hand on each of their backs.
“Wonderful! Let's get the fuck out of here.”
They needed no further convincing.
It took some time and careful maneuvering, but they eventually got the wounded woman and her family loaded into the back of Hazel's wagon and continued on through the Narrows. The rest of the harrowing journey passed without incident. Though Morwyn couldn't recall how long it took to reach the far side, she was relieved beyond measure when the path abruptly widened and sloped gently back down into a grassy plain on the far side.
Morwyn was surprised to note that there was no garrison on the eastern end and wondered absently how the guards knew that no one was already on the trail when they sent people through. She supposed it might have something to do with the magical warding, but decided that she was too tired to bother asking.
Some time later, when the camp was pitched and a heavy silence hung over the caravan as they settled in for the night, Morwyn heard Hazel's cot creak as the halfling shifted her weight. She turned her head and could just make out in the darkness of the tent that Hazel was watching her with bleary eyes and a contemplative smile.
“Enjoying the view?” Morwyn murmured, a smile turning up one corner of her mouth.
“Well... maybe I am,” Hazel admitted coyly. Her voice grew earnest as she continued. “But I'm also thinking of how grateful I am that you're with us. Without you and Argoth, William's family would've died today. ”
Morwyn rolled over on her side and propped her head on one hand as she met the healer's gaze.
“I'm glad we were able to save them... Though being a hero certainly makes me dog tired.”
Hazel rolled her eyes, but her smile never dimmed.
“You jest, but you really are brave. You don't hesitate to do what it takes to protect people. And seeing that... it helps me to be brave, too.”
Morwyn considered the words for a long moment as sleep threatened to take her. She pulled her blanket closer around herself as she gave Hazel a soft smile. Her head drooped with weariness and she laid it back down on her bundled cloak, eyes drifting closed.
“Let's be brave together, then.”
She couldn't tell if she merely dreamed that Hazel slipped underneath her blankets and curled up beside her, but if it was a dream, it was a good one.