The Old Bridge

This all happened a long time ago, so bear that in mind. Things were different then.

Two guards were on a cart on their way from the city to the bridge over the Septine river. It wasn’t an arduous journey but it was long enough that watching the world go past made the gaze lose focus and the mind wander. Danyll, the younger of the two, stared at the trees going by and saw a small frog with wide, staring eyes looking out from under a log. He thought back to what Fowke, the older guard, had been telling him earlier about the city’s strange gods. Danyll had only lived in the city for a fortnight - today was his first day on the job - and the city gods were different from what he had been taught when he was young.

There were still seven gods - everyone agreed on that - but there were differences. They agreed on Byeyr who was represented as the sun and was god of light, birth, morning, and fire. And Inera, the moon, goddess of darkness, death, the night, and winter. Annis, (the flower, goddess of survival, growth, nurture) and Illan (the bird, god of freedom, exploration, expression, and the arts) were basically the same but in the city they were called Ennis and Elan. Unos (the chaos goddess, never represented the same way twice) was the same, too, inasmuch as she was different. How could she not be? Asmis (the god of fire, strength, and the hunt) was a wolf instead of a bear but you could see the link there. But Alos…

“Alos is a frog, you say?” he asked.

“Always has been,” replied Fowke gruffly. He was lying back against the side of the cart, his helmet pulled down over his eyes and his collar pulled up against the coming drizzle. Only his nose was visible. “What did you think?”

“I was taught he was a fish.”

“Well that’s just silly.”

Danyll thought about it for a while.

“But who wants a frog god?” Fowke just shrugged. Danyll continued, “Alos has always seemed strange to me anyway, whether he’s a fish or a frog. The god of sitting still and doing nothing?”

“Who do you favour?”

“Asmis!”

“The bear?” asked Fowke with a wry smile.

“The wolf!” corrected Danyll.

“What’s so great about him?” asked Fowke.

“He’s the god of fire! The god of the hunt! Protector of the strong!” Danyll’s eyes lit up as he talked.

Fowke lifted his helmet an inch with a thick, calloused finger and cast a critical eye over Danyll’s scrawny figure. “Ah,” he said, and then lay back again with a sigh. “Big manly man, are ya?”

“Well, I’d rather be a wolf than a fish,” replied Danyll sulkily.

“Frog!”

“Whatever.”

---

They arrived at the bridge shortly after. In the dying light of evening the bridge was an impressive sight. The two giant white towers, one either side of the river, were lit up by powerful lights that shone through the mist and drizzle and could be seen for miles. The towers themselves were tall and imposing.

“Impressed?” asked Fowke redundantly. It was clear by Danyll’s face that he was.

The bridge spanned the Septine River - named after the region’s aforementioned pantheon of gods - which flowed languidly past, 50 metres below. It was a slow, wide river and the bridge itself was hundreds of metres long. Danyll, being a country boy used to smaller things, was nervous to even be on it.

They eventually reached the far end. After a brief handover, the other guards got on the cart and it rattled its way back across the bridge. And then, with the cart gone, silence descended. It was dark now and all was quiet. The bridge was important, there wasn’t another way across for miles, but it didn’t get a lot of traffic at night. They stood on guard, Danyll standing to attention so earnestly that Fowke felt embarrassed on his behalf. Fowke rolled a roll-up and lit it. Danyll wanted to talk but felt a little bitter about their last conversation and didn’t have the words to communicate his feelings. Fowke let his mind wind down and quietly smoked.

---

About an hour later, after boredom had really set in, something caught Danyll’s attention. There was a yellowy light, just about visible through the trees of the distant forest.

“What’s that?” he asked curiously. Fowke shrugged. He had already noticed it but didn’t know what it was and had chosen to simply wait for further information.

Before long the light got closer. They could make out the shape of a single horse, with a rider carrying a lantern. They were riding flat out. “Hmm,” said Fowke.

As the horse got closer and Fowke was wondering whether to lower the barrier and stop them, the rider shouted at the top of their lungs “There’s a dragon! A draaaagooon!”

As if on cue, the forest behind the rider lit up in a huge gout of flame. It burned for two whole seconds then flicked off, leaving afterimages dancing on their retinas and trees smouldering.

Danyll stared with his mouth agape as a huge shadow appeared over the forest and grew larger. “What’s it doing this far east?” He shouted. Fowke didn’t know. He’d never even seen one before. The rider whipped past them and galloped off across the bridge without pause.

Moments later the dragon was bearing down upon them, spitting fire. Fowke dragged Danyll into an alcove as flaming liquid spattered and sizzled against the wall and floor, like water thrown on a hot pan.

As soon as it had passed, Danyll scrambled up, raising his bow and nocking an arrow in one movement. Fowke grabbed at him, shouting “Are you mad?” but he was too late. Danyll’s arrow was loose, flying straight and true. Fowke was surprised and impressed despite himself. He hadn’t expected the bravery from the lad, nor the accuracy. He would have been happier for him to have missed.

The arrow rose up and hit the retreating dragon in its scaly tail… and bounced off harmlessly.

The dragon gave an angry hrumph that was so deep and loud that Fowke could feel it in his chest, and drifted lazily but inexorably in a wide curve back towards them.

“Now what, genius?” said Fowke.

And in no time the dragon was almost upon them. This time there was nowhere to hide. The alcove provided no shelter with the dragon approaching from the angle that it was and there was no time to get behind the tower.

So Fowke did the only thing he could. He jumped over the edge and pulled Danyll with him. They hit the water and were pulled down by their heavy armour into the dark, icy depths.

---

Danyll awoke in a dark, wet cave, lying half in a pool of water that was covered in lily pads and trailing plants. He coughed wetly and struggled upwards until he was sat up against the wall. He looked around him and blinked in wonder. The floor and walls were festooned with glowing mushrooms and the air was thick with glowing bugs and a damp, musty aroma. The whole gave the impression of looking at a midnight sky.

“What is this place?” he asked. His voice came out louder than he intended and echos bounced from wall to wall. The fireflies flittered away from him and circled around the other end of the cave.

“Shhh,” said Fowke softly. Danyll looked at Fowke who nodded meaningfully in the direction of the pool.

Danyll peered at the water, trying to understand what Fowke was looking at. A leaf lifted up from the water to reveal the face of an old man. Danyll gasped. What he had thought were vines was actually the man’s bear and hair, floating in the water.

“Seven gods!” exclaimed Danyll. The man lifted a small pipe to his lips, water dripping out of its end and played a little three-note tune.

“What a strange little man,” said Danyll. He spoke quieter this time, but still loud enough for the man to hear.

“Speak for yourself,” said the man and sank into the water. He bobbed up again long enough to add “Ingrate,” and then he was gone. The leaf rested on the water and the man’s hair slowly following behind him, flowing away like a receding octopus.

Danyll looked at Fowke in astonishment. “What was…?” he asked vaguely. “That was rude.”

“Let him go,” said Fowke. “We need to find our way out of here.”

Danyll’s limbs ached from the fall but he struggled upright and wrung the water our of his clothes. They walked to the far end of the cave and through an archway. Beyond that they found a wide spiral staircase around the edge of a vast vertical shaft leading upwards. Down the middle of the shaft poured a steady stream of water, partly turned to a fine mist by the long drop. In the centre, at the base of the giant hole was a huge statue, its head lost in the mist above. One of its hands was on the ground level with the two guards, the other was raised up above its head. They stopped to admire in the view, and consider the climb ahead. Danyll groaned a little at the thought of it.

“Come on, let’s make a start,” said Fowke and he began the trek up the long staircase. Danyll followed reluctantly behind, not eager to climb but even more unwilling to be left behind in this strange place alone. The sounds of their steel-tipped boots on the hard stone steps echoed strangely off the round walls.

“Where are we?” asked Danyll. “Do you know?”

“Not exactly, but I have some idea. There was a group that used to live in the city. They were a strange bunch. Not even a group really, they were all fiercely individual, but a group of a kind. They never hurt anybody or committed any crimes or anything but, for some reason, they always managed to rub the city folk the wrong way. Or perhaps,“ he added thoughtfully, ”it was the city folks’ fault for not accepting them as they were. Either way, they didn’t get on.

“It all came to a head one day when the Ranna - that’s what they were called - didn’t want to take part in a festival. It was the summer solstice and the whole city were celebrating. The Ranna didn’t want to. They didn’t begrudge the festivities at all but they wanted to do their own things. This city folk got angry. Said they were insulting the city. Insulting Byeyr. That there would be retribution. And they were right in a way. Not that Byeyr did anything, but the people did. They kicked the Ranna out.”

Fowke was speaking slower now, leaving gaps as he tried to get his breath back.

“So they left. They scattered. Took shelter wherever they could. And continued to live as solitary hermits or small travelling communities. I had heard rumours that they had built temples. Secret, secluded ones, just for them. I didn’t know there was one so close, or one so big. It’s impressive, isn’t it?”

Danyll nodded. “So that weird guy was one of the Ranna?”

“That weird guy saved our lives,” said Fowke as they reached the top stop. “But yes, he was a Ranna. A follower of Alos, the frog, protector of the solitary.” He turned towards the head of the giant statue, it’s amphibian face now visible through the mist. He raised a hand to mimic that of the statue and bowed slightly.