Ranger's Apprentice: Alex + The Burning Bridge (Discontinued)

Poor Celtic Miner

Following the Wargals was easier than they had thought it would be. They had left a obvious trail, and they posted no forward scouts or sweepers. Their constant chanting also masked any noise that they might make.

At night, they simple camped wherever they might find themselves to be. The miners remained chained together and sentries were posted to keep watch over them while the rest of the group slept. 

After two days, Alex had noticed where they were headed. "We're heading toward the Fissure." She told Will and he came back one time to talk. He nodded his head. 

"I was just about to say that." he said. 

They could see the high, brooding cliffs. 

"I wouldn't care to come down those cliffs on ropes and scaling ladders," Horace said, nodding toward them.

"Even if you did, you'd have to find a level space on the other side to cross from," Will agreed. "And apparently, there are precious few of them. For the most part, the cliffs go right down to the bottom."

Evanlyn looked to each of the boys. "Yet Morgarath has done it once," she said. "Maybe he's planning to attack Araluen the same way."

"That's it." Alex said. They all looked at her. "Oh, I said that out loud. I didn't mean you comment Evanlyn. I just figured something out. Although I can't tell you." 

The bridge she had seen in the dream, that was connected to the mountain so that Morgarath and his army would be able to get across. Although how would he get stuff down the mountain so that they would could cross the bridge.

"What is he up to?" Evanlyn asked. 

Will shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough," he said and urged Tug forward to take up the point position once more.

They found out the following evening. 

As before, they  heard the first hint as to what was taking place. The ring or thud of hammers. Then there was another noise as they drew constant but irregular cracking sound. 

Will and Alex got off their horses after signaling to the other two to stay, at the same time.

 Shrouded in their cloaks they moved forward, from one piece of cover to the next. They moved off the road and cut across the country to find a vantage point from which to view the next stretch of road. Almost immediately, they saw the top of the massive wooden structure that was being constructed: four wooden towers, linked by heavy rope cables and a timber framework, reared above the surrounding countryside. They already knew what they were looking at. 

They moved closer. It was what they thought. An immense wooden bridge was in the final stages of construction. On the far side of the Fissure, Morgarath had discovered one of the few places where a narrow ledge ran, almost level with the Celtic side. The natural ledge had been dug out and widened until there was a sizable piece of level ground there. The four towers stood, two either side of the Fissure, linked by massive rope cables. Supported by them, a wooden roadway was half completed, capable of taking six men abreast across the dizzying depths of the Fissure.

Figures recognizable as Celt prisoners swarmed over the structure, hammering and sawing. The cracking sound was made by the whips used by the Wargal overseers.

Beyond them, the sound of hammers on stone came from the mouth of a tunnel that opened onto the ledge some fifty meters south of the bridge. It was little more than a crack in the cliff face, only a little wider than a man's shoulders, but as they watched, the Celt prisoners were hard at work at its entrance, gouging at the hard rock, widening and enlarging the small opening.