The King Who Broke Heaven’s Tithe

Chapter 38 The Line Across the Cut

Vann seized the mule’s lead before the silver line dragged it off the path.

Daren shouted for him to let go.

The carter held on until Jun struck the fastening with a hatchet. Leather parted. The halter flew downhill, and the mule stumbled backward into the others, wild with fear but still on its feet.

Across the cut, a man cranked a little bronze winch fixed to a tree. Two guards stood beside him. The green sash around one waist was familiar.

“Transport levy,” the steward called.

“Come collect the strap,” Vann shouted back.

The winch operator freed his hook. The line glimmered with borrowed light. Daren could see the small stone set into the housing; it supplied the strength the operator's arms lacked.

Not limitless, then. Not harmless.

Brida ordered everyone behind the quarry lip. Asha drew the mules back while Berrit and Pellan dragged the tool bundle out of the open. Selka remained beside Daren, white faced and furious at an arm she could not use.

“Don't,” he said when she began to rise.

She looked at the steep bank, then sat. “I wasn't going far.”

The second hook struck the tool bundle and tore it out of Pellan's hands. Iron rang against stone as the tools scattered down the slope.

They could not wait for the operator to learn his range.

Daren studied the line's path. The winch had been placed to catch travelers approaching Keela's crossing. It could reach the exposed bend, but the quarry's old loading wall hid the next length of track.

“We move behind that wall,” he told Brida.

“The end's fallen.”

“Then cover the gap.”

With what, he had not yet said. Brida saw the discarded sled rails and answered the question herself.

Berrit and Jun lifted a rail between them, keeping low. They slid it against the broken end of the loading wall. Pellan added the second. The barrier would not stop a spear thrust, but it might foul a hook long enough for a person or animal to pass.

The steward began descending toward the narrow footbridge upstream. He meant to reach their bank.

He pointed out a patch of sheltered ground where the frightened mules could turn without tangling their leads. Vann understood immediately and backed the animals into it one by one.

Asha's crutch slipped on loose shale. She caught the wall with her free hand, refused help until the nearest mule was settled, then let Pellan bring her a sound footing board.

Daren watched her accept it. Even now, useful pride looked different from the kind that got people killed.

The steward shouted that resistance would double the levy. His voice carried well across the cut. Daren answered loudly enough for the burners to hear.

“Name the order. Name the animals. Their owners aren't here to surrender them.”

The reply was another turn of the winch.

Someone beyond the trees began repeating Daren's question, word for word.

Daren called for Keela.

A woman answered from beyond the trees. “I'm at my own bridge, Holt. Keep your trouble on your side.”

“They're coming by the footway.”

“I can see them.”

He heard an axe strike wood, then another blow. The footway's loose access plank slid sideways into the cut. The steward stopped at the gap and cursed her by name.

Keela did not answer again.

Brida moved the first mule behind the loading wall. Asha walked at its head, speaking quietly. The animal trembled so violently that its saddle buckles rattled.

The hook came again.

It caught the upper sled rail and pulled. Berrit released his end as ordered, but Jun's sleeve snagged beneath a splinter.

Daren was close enough to reach her. His knee folded when he lunged. He struck the ground hard, caught the cloth with his knife, and cut it free as the rail tore away.

Jun fell beside him. The rail struck the slope below, scattering chips.

“Move,” he said.

She dragged him by the coat until Brida caught his other arm. His leg burned so fiercely that the whole valley seemed to narrow around it.

He had not touched the winch. His gift offered no convenient command across empty air.

“Next shot,” he told Berrit. “Give it the other rail. Don't hold it.”

Berrit understood. He propped the remaining rail through the gap, angled toward a cleft in the rock below. Then he stepped away.

The operator hooked it and cranked.

The rail slid, struck the cleft, and jammed crosswise. The silver line tightened until it sang. Across the cut, the tree holding the winch shuddered.

“Stop,” the steward shouted.

The operator stopped too late. A fastening tore free. The winch struck its own frame, and the little light stone shattered in a brief white flare.

Daren covered his eyes. When he looked again, the line hung slack across the ravine.

The guards still had weapons. They had lost reach.

Keela shouted that her crossing was ready. Brida and Berrit finished the two approach braces while the others stayed behind cover. Vann led the first mule onto the deck, unloaded and blindfolded, one careful step at a time.

Asha crossed after the animals. She stopped on the far bank and raised her hand to Daren.

“Send the trial marks,” she called.

Then the trees took her from sight.

No cheering followed. One brace had split, several tools lay beyond reach, and Daren could not stand.

But all three borrowed mules were on their way home.