The Tin Trench

Hara chooses two guides to lead them to the gorge. One, Rilsa, had grown up at the shelter; the other, Dorn, was repairing the rails. They would not cross with them. Their task would be to check the first slope and return before the cycle closes.

The Tin Trench was not an open gorge, but an underground fault a few tens of steps wide, crossed by metal bridges and wooden walkways. The rails plunged into darkness, then went up on the other side. The metal was covered with shiny dust that clung to the gloves.

Dorn explained to them that the fault had been dug by an underground river, then exploited by miners. When the water had turned away, the beams had dried and the ground had sagging in places. The carts no longer passed, but the walkers still used the high walkway.

"Is she sure? Zaelyra asked.

"She holds."

"Since when did you check it?"

"Six days ago."

Nym examined the bindings. Some were old, others were new. A recent rope reinforced the middle of the bridge, but it ended before the last pillar.

"Who laid the rope?"

"Me."

"Why does she stop there?"

"I had no more rope."

The answer was simple and verifiable. They couldn't fill the gap with a promise.

The group split. The lightest would cross first to install a second rope on the other side. The injured would wait with Brakka and Rilsa. Dorn would remain in the middle, to control the anchors. Zaelyra did not take the lead; she let the guard who knew the marks pass with Nym.

Halfway through, the bridge began to vibrate. A rumble crossed the fault. The tin dust rose into a cloud and covered the walkways.

"Don't run!" shouted Dorn. "Stay in the center!"

The guard squats. Nym grabbed the rope. The bridge vibrated again, then stopped. One of the pillars had moved a finger's width.

Zaelyra waited for the ground to stop shaking. "Shall we come back?"

Dorn observed the pillar. "We can continue, but the rope will not hold a second shake."

"Then we don't continue," says Rhylor.

"However, you have to pass," protested Senn. "The shelter is behind us."

"We can leave," says the merchant. "The bridge didn't collapse."

"If we leave, the access can close," Senn replied.

"If we continue, the bridge can fall."

Both voices rose. Zaelyra looked at the rope, the pillar, the people still on the first side. She asked Dorn what it would take to secure the passage.

"A second anchor on this side. And a fairly long rope."

"Do we have one?"

"Not long enough."

Nym observed the old railway that descended towards the fault. "A chain could replace the rope on this section."

Dorn refused at first. The chain would be heavy, difficult to fix and risked cutting the wood. Then he examined the metal rings that held the old rails. Some could be used as anchor points.

They spent an hour testing each ring. The first gave in under moderate traction; they marked it with a red line. The second ring. The third vibrated and dropped a rain of dust. They pushed him away.

The chain was installed between the second ring and the existing rope. Dorn checked the tension. Nym measured the oscillation of the bridge. The structure had not become safe; it could now support one group at a time, if no one stopped in the middle.

"One group at a time?" asked the merchant.

"A person at a time," Dorn corrected. "Two if they are attached to separate lines."

They changed the order of march. The first crossed, then fixed a return line. Each traveler waited his turn, without accelerating to catch up with the others.

Tazri crossed with Brakka. Half-term, the wire of his lantern clung to a bolt. She stopped, but didn't shoot. Brakka untied the thread and signaled him to continue. They reached the other side without further incident.

The last to cross was Dorn. He stopped near the displaced pillar and placed a mark on the stone, at hand height. "If you come back, don't take the middle. The outer edge is more stable."

"Were you coming with us? Zaelyra asked.

"No. My job is to repair the bridge, not to find out what's beyond."

He returned to the shelter through the low footbridge, where the rails were still solid.

The western slope was colder. Drops of water slid on the wall and disappeared into a crack. An old inscription had been engraved in the basalt: No cart passes after the third landslide. Under the sentence, someone had added: The walkers, on the other hand, are not cargoes.

Hara had told them about these inscriptions. They had been engraved by the workers after the merchants had demanded that the minors cross with the carts, despite the danger.

Zaelyra noted the two sentences and the approximate date of the landslide. She did not turn one into the motto of their group.

Beyond the fault, the gallery was divided into three. Rilsa had given them a mark to wait for the guide to the next refuge. A green light was to appear above the central passage.

They waited.

After an hour, the light did not come.

Ysil was no longer there to know the road. Neither does Veli. Hara had warned that the guide might be delayed. The provisions allowed to wait a night, but no more without water.

"We could take the left gallery," says the merchant. "The power comes out of there."

Nym measured the wires. "Yes, but there is a smell of mud. This can be a source or a drown chamber."

"And the one on the right?"

"The current enters. I don't know where he's going."

"The one in the middle?"

"There is no visible current."

Senn approached the wall. He had spotted a cut under the ceiling, similar to those he had seen near the post. "There is a mark above the central passage."

Zaelyra raised her lamp. A line engraved in the basalt formed an arc, then interrupted. No code had been sent to them to interpret it.

They sent an agreed signal: a white light, then three blows spaced apart. Nothing answered.

"We did what the guide asked us," says the guard. "We can leave tomorrow."

"What if the guide is already on his way?" asked Tazri.

"Then he will find us."

"What if someone else finds us?"

No one answered immediately. The Tin Trench had separated them from the refuge, but they could still turn around. The left road offered water perhaps; the central road, a passage without current. The group did not have enough information to continue with the injured.

Zaelyra asked everyone to choose between returning and waiting until the next cycle. No one wanted to engage in the galleries without a guide. They therefore installed a watch, distributed between the three branches, and kept the lamps visible from the bridge.

Before the night tour began, a green light appeared above the central passage.

Only once.

Then she went out.

Nym got up and measured the current. This time, a light breath came out of the central tunnel.

"Someone is here," he said.

"Shall we move forward?" asked Rhylor.

"No. We answer."

Zaelyra flashed the white lamp once and waited.

The green light reappeared, then two figures advanced to the edge of the corridor. One held a lantern; the other kept a lowered crossbow.

The first spoke in common: "Who sent you?"

Zaelyra answered with the name of the refuge, then gave that of the guide and the road plate.

The figure lowered its lantern. "Ysil is back. She said you would come."

The second person kept the weapon in hand. "And the Drow House?"

"She sent a messenger. He left."

"Then why do you have his seal?"

Zaelyra did not look east. She took out Vhaelyn's note, but did not hold it out. "Because my sister wrote to me. That doesn't mean I'm going back home."

The two figures exchanged a few words in a language she did not understand. Then the first one advanced alone.

"We are the guardians of the Vault of the Forges. You can come to the first door. No further tonight."

The group took back the bags and entered the central passage.

The Tin Trench remained behind them, suspended above its own echo. In front, a new community was waiting for their story, with its rules and reasons not to believe them.