Chapter 20: Whispering Bridge

  The following morning, the wind in the Howling Canyons seemed to have doubled in intensity. It was no longer a mournful wail; it was a physical assault. The air was filled with stinging red dust that forced the travelers to wrap thick canvas scarves tightly around their faces and squint their eyes against the grit. Conversation was entirely impossible. They marched in a tight formation, heads bowed, pushing relentlessly against the invisible wall of air.

  Zeno’s stomach rumbled a continuous, unhappy complaint, but he ignored it, matching Lyra’s steady pace. Elian’s map had been incredibly accurate. By mid-morning, the narrow, winding corridor of the red rock canyon suddenly opened up into a massive, terrifying void.

  They stood at the edge of a sheer cliff that dropped thousands of feet into a dark, swirling mist. The rift was so incredibly wide that the other side was hazy and indistinct. Spanning this impossible, dizzying gap was the Whispering Bridge.

  It was a marvel of ancient engineering and a nightmare of vertigo. The bridge was a massive, natural arch of pale white stone, incredibly slender and fragile-looking against the massive scale of the canyon. As Elian had described, the stone was riddled with thousands of naturally eroded holes of varying sizes. As the fierce canyon wind rushed through these holes, the bridge didn't just whistle; it sang.

  It was a loud, discordant, multi-tonal drone that vibrated right in the teeth and rattled the bones. It sounded like a thousand out-of-tune horns being played simultaneously.

  "The Whispering Bridge!" Elian shouted over the noise, his voice barely audible as he pulled hard on the carriage reins. "We must cross quickly! The vibration can unsettle the horses!"

  The draft horses were already tossing their heavy heads, their eyes rolling in pure panic at the deafening sound and the sheer drop on either side of the narrow, rail-less path. Elian had to fight the leather straps with all his strength just to keep them facing forward.

  "I will hold the horses!" Zeno yelled, stepping to the absolute front of the carriage.

  He didn't try to soothe them with words. The noise was too loud, and the panic of a prey animal was too strong. Instead, Zeno grabbed the thick leather harnesses near the horses' bits. He wrapped the heavy leather straps tightly around his own forearms, twisting them until they locked.

  Zeno then widened his stance and drove his boots hard against the uneven stone of the bridge. He didn't ignite his aura, but he called upon every single ounce of his massive physical power. His base Strength stat of 26 engaged fully. He became an immovable, living anchor.

  When the massive draft horses tried to rear up and backpedal away from the terrifying drop, they hit a wall of pure physical resistance. Zeno’s arms didn't budge a single inch. The sheer, overwhelming power of his grip forced the horses’ heads down, physically compelling them to stay grounded and walk forward at his pace.

  With Zeno anchoring the front, the carriage slowly rolled onto the treacherous pale stone.

  The bridge was long—nearly half a mile. The wind buffeted them from the side, threatening to push the heavy wooden carriage over the edge. Lyra walked at the rear, her body low to the ground, her emerald eyes darting around. She hated this. The sound was entirely messing with her senses. She couldn't hear the shifting gravel. She couldn't hear breathing. She was effectively deaf to the world.

  They reached the halfway point of the bridge. The sound was completely deafening here, a physical pressure pressing aggressively against their eardrums.

  Suddenly, Zeno stopped. His massive strength halted the horses instantly.

  Zeno didn't look at the drop. He looked at the bridge itself. He looked at the large erosion holes in the pale stone near his boots.

  Something was terribly wrong.

  The harmonic drone of the bridge had changed. A new, sharp, rhythmic frequency had been introduced, cutting through the chaos of the wind. It wasn't air. It was... tapping.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Zeno looked down. Emerging from the larger erosion holes on the surface of the bridge were sharp, grey claws.

  "Ambush!" Zeno roared, his voice booming even over the bridge's song.

  Before Lyra or Elian could fully react, the pale stone of the bridge erupted. Dozens of creatures poured out of the erosion holes, swarming up the sides of the arch like highly coordinated ants.

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  They were Gargoyles. Small, winged humanoids made entirely of living, grey stone. They had hunched backs, razor-sharp talons, and grotesque, leering faces. There were at least thirty of them. They didn't scream; they blended perfectly with the stone, their movements jerky, heavy, and fast.

  They weren't trying to kill the travelers. They were swarming the carriage.

  Five gargoyles landed heavily on the roof of the wooden carriage, tearing at the timber with their stone claws. Another group dove for the heavy wooden wheels, trying to shatter the spokes. If the carriage broke here, on this narrow strip of stone over the abyss, they were completely dead.

  "Defend the cargo!" Elian screamed, pulling a small, rudimentary dagger from his boot—a pathetic defense against living rock.

  Lyra was already moving. She launched herself onto the roof of the carriage, her twin daggers flashing. She couldn't use wide wind slashes for fear of accidentally cutting the horses or the fragile bridge supports. She had to be precise. She stabbed, kicked, and spun, knocking gargoyles off the roof and into the endless drop below.

  Zeno unwrapped the reins from his arms. "Stay," he commanded the horses, his physical dominance having thoroughly subdued their panic.

  He turned to face the swarm advancing from the front. Ten gargoyles were rushing him, their stone wings flapping uselessly in the high wind as they scuttled across the bridge.

  Zeno dropped into a stance. He took a deep breath, focusing his intent, ready to push his Tena into his Mountain Bear wraps.

  "Zeno, NO!" Lyra shrieked from the roof of the carriage, her voice cracking with absolute terror. "No Heavy Punch! No Tena! If you use kinetic energy here, the shockwave will shatter the bridge and we all die!"

  Zeno’s amber eyes widened. He looked at the fragile, porous white stone beneath his boots. She was right. He couldn't use his sledgehammer. If he missed, or if the impact was too strong, the 3000-year-old arch would collapse into the abyss.

  Zeno forcefully cut off his energy flow. The dark wraps remained dull. He had to rely on pure, raw physical muscle.

  He didn't use a stance anymore. He simply walked forward.

  A gargoyle leaped directly at his face, talons extended. Zeno caught it by the ankle right out of the air. Using his Strength stat of 26, he swung the heavy stone creature like a massive club, smashing it violently into two other advancing gargoyles. The sheer physical impact shattered all three into piles of useless gravel.

  He became a whirlwind of raw, kinetic wrestling. He didn't punch. He grabbed, he kicked, and he threw the stone monsters with ruthless, brutal efficiency. Every time a gargoyle lunged, Zeno caught it and snapped its stone limbs or hurled it off the edge of the bridge.

  But there were too many. They were small, heavy, and entirely relentless.

  One gargoyle managed to slip past Zeno’s guard. It scuttled under the carriage, its claws sparking against the stone, and latched onto the rear wooden axle. It raised a heavy stone fist, preparing to smash the wood in half.

  "Lyra! Underneath!" Zeno shouted.

  Lyra looked down from the roof, but she was entirely blocked by two gargoyles swiping at her face. She couldn't reach it in time.

  Zeno saw it. He was currently engaged with three gargoyles at the front of the horses. He couldn't run back without letting the swarm overrun Elian. He couldn't punch the floor. He had to improvise.

  Zeno grabbed the nearest gargoyle by its ugly, stone head. He planted his feet. He didn't channel Tena into the beast; he simply channeled all of his massive physical strength into his right arm, winding back like a catapult.

  "Ball!" Zeno yelled.

  He hurled the heavy gargoyle like a high-speed projectile. The stone monster flew through the air, spinning wildly, and passed directly under the belly of the carriage. It struck the gargoyle clinging to the axle with absolute, pinpoint accuracy. The raw physical force of the throw caused both creatures to shatter instantly upon impact, their heavy grey debris raining down into the misty abyss below.

  "Nice throw!" Lyra cheered, landing a heavy kick to the last gargoyle on the roof, sending it tumbling over the edge.

  The remaining gargoyles, seeing their numbers completely decimated and their surprise attack failing against the sheer physical power of the Vanguard, let out high-pitched, grinding screeches. They turned and leaped off the bridge, diving back into the thick mist of the canyon, retreating to the safety of the lower cliffs.

  The attack was over as quickly as it had begun.

  Zeno stood panting slightly, dusting pale stone powder off his tunic. The horses were shivering but safely anchored. The carriage had deep scratches on the roof and wheels, but the axle held firm.

  "Is everyone okay?" Zeno asked, looking back. "Did the rocks bite anyone?"

  Elian was pale, clutching the side of the carriage, staring into the abyss where the gargoyles had fallen. "Gargoyles... in the Howling Canyons? They are supposed to be native to the northern ruins. Their migration patterns must have shifted. This... this is highly irregular."

  "Irregular or not, they are gone," Lyra said, sheathing her daggers. She jumped down from the carriage and looked at Zeno, a look of profound respect in her eyes. "That throw... you couldn't use your aura, so you improvised a ranged attack with pure muscle. That was brilliant."

  "I played catch with Master Shifu sometimes," Zeno grinned brightly, though he conveniently left out the part where Master Shifu usually threw heavy, solid tree trunks at his head. "It is very good practice."

  They finished the crossing without further incident. As the heavy wooden wheels of the carriage finally rolled off the Whispering Bridge and onto the solid, flat ground of the Northern Plains, the deafening harmonic noise finally faded away, replaced by the gentle rustle of dry, tall grass.

  They were out of the canyons. The first major, deadly leg of their journey was complete.

  "We made it," Elian breathed, looking back at the massive rift. "Fourteen days... we might actually survive this."

  Zeno’s stomach let out another incredibly loud, echoing rumble, demanding compensation for the massive physical exertion on the bridge. Zeno looked ahead at the vast, open plains stretching out toward the horizon. The wind here was fresher, cleaner.

  "Let's keep walking," Zeno said happily, clutching his empty stomach. "I really want to see the flying chickens now."