| 362 With the bridge becoming more and more unstable you dismount quickly from Pallenten and carefully lead her for the remainder of the crossing. Although it was not evident from the bank, the centre of the bridge is slowly being undermined by the raging rapids below. With the pylons loose in their foundations, the bridge sways precariously from side to side, the combined weight of you and your horse enough to set it in motion. Above the roar of the rapids you can hear Pallenten snorting her anxiety as she makes each hoof fall against the unstable planking. Below, the water can be seen clearly through the ever widening gaps in the bridge. It looks icy cold and capable of pounding your into oblivion. Drowning in such an uninviting torrent is the last way you ever thought you would die. You resolve that today will not be the day for such an untimely end. Holding tightly to Pallenten's reins you guide her from timber to timber, it is only by using the greatest care that you are able to finally make it across. With yourself and your horse back on firm ground you take a moment to consider your lucky escape. The bridge's uprights sit in their seatings loose and unstable, the pressure of the fast flowing river slowly taking advantage of their growing weakness. It will not be long before the inexorable power of the river will topple the bridge completely. Although you can do nothing about the other bank you find a piece of discarded timber and scrawl a quick warning to any soul travelling this way to avoid the bridge. It will surely not survive another crossing. With the timber jammed firmly into the soft ground before the entrance to the bridge you remount Pallenten and continue on your way to the Devkraager Tor. With Pallenten again set on her course you look forward to the far horizon and the imposing bulk of the great mountain ahead. Behind you, masked by the rumble and crash of the rapids, you are unaware of the destruction of the bridge taking place as you ride away. With the river digging ever deeper into its foundations the bridge cannot hold. Its centre pylons gone, its supporting timbers broken, it collapses in a flurry of water, smashed wood and gouged river sand. In the tumult of the bridge's destruction all that remains is your hastily written warning, one that will no longer be needed.
| Turn to section 392.
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