Chapter 39: The Longer Way

Chapter 39: The Longer Way

The shield moved toward the stretcher as soon as Alden committed to his first strike.

Silas sent a single piece low across the defender’s path. The woman checked her advance and caught it on the bottom edge of her shield. Behind her, the swordsman turned Alden’s blade aside with a short, economical motion.

Neither defender followed them out.

"Again?" Alden asked, already bringing his sword back up.

Silas watched the shield. "I’ll hold her attention. Don’t go too deep."

He sent two pieces this time, one from each side. The woman gave ground where he wanted her to, but only a pace. His third piece remained close to cover the stretcher; the fourth he held behind the nearer attack, waiting for an opening.

Alden’s second approach was better. He adjusted the angle that had failed and slipped past the swordsman’s first parry. Silas recognized the small improvement from their own fight and kept his next piece ready. The man had to step back to avoid the touch.

For an instant, there was room.

Then the shield cut across Alden’s path. Silas brought his waiting piece in to check it, too late to stop the padded rim from touching Alden’s upper arm.

"Arm," the watching marshal called, recording the touch.

Alden withdrew with his jaw set.

The defenders resumed their places. Silas collected his pieces, aware of how much concentration he had spent buying that one small opening.

Behind him, Bram shifted the stretcher handles in his hands.

"We can’t stand here much longer," Mira said.

Alden looked at the passage. "He’s giving ground on the second approach. We can make him keep doing it."

"Yes," Silas said. "While she keeps coming at them." He tipped his head toward the stretcher. "I can interrupt her, or help you. Doing both is costing too much."

"You haven’t taken a hit."

"I would prefer to keep it that way."

Alden’s expression tightened. Silas regretted the answer as soon as he heard it. There were easier ways to explain being tired than sounding pleased with himself.

He lowered his voice. "Look at her feet. She hasn’t had to hurry once."

Alden looked. The shield bearer gave him a patient, unpleasant smile.

Mira eased the stretcher down onto the rest blocks beside the junction. Bram followed her movement carefully, keeping the dummy level.

"We’d need a proper opening to lift and get through," she said. "I can’t carry him and make a burst past them."

Bram rubbed his palm against his trousers. "And I need to change grips before we lift again."

Alden checked their time, then the route board mounted at the junction.

"All right," he said. "Long way. We’ve still got enough time if we keep moving."

Silas was relieved enough that he nearly agreed too quickly.

"Bram," he said instead. "Tell us what changes at that turn before we arrive there."

Bram looked surprised to be asked while Alden was still holding the map. Then he came over and pointed.

They changed carriers. Alden took the front, accepting the extra work without comment. Mira moved ahead to check the lane, and Silas stayed beside the casualty, his weapons withdrawn close where they would not strike the partitions.

Bram’s steps had grown steadier with the new grip. Silas noticed that he was keeping his old injured arm tucked closer to his side.

"Is that elbow all right?" he asked.

"It’s cleared for this. I’m being careful." Bram adjusted his shoulders under the carrying strap. "Load Share helps."

"With the stretcher?"

"With me." Bram paused long enough to settle the load before explaining. "I can spread the strain through my body instead of letting it all pull through one shoulder. Doesn’t make him lighter. My legs will complain later."

Silas considered that. "Useful."

"For this, yes. Less impressive when someone’s trying to hit you."

From the front, Alden said, "I’d take useful right now."

The service lane narrowed around a stack of empty crates. Mira waited beyond it, peering through an opening toward the timber crossing.

"They’re following," she said when the others reached her. "The marshal just released one from the gate."

Silas had heard that in the briefing. He still disliked it more now that it applied to him.

The crossing lay ahead: a low platform over a shallow, sand-filled gap, with planks resting on a timber support at the far side. A blue stop cord ran along one rail. The landing opened into the next stretch of service passage.

Mira crossed first. Halfway over, she stopped and looked down.

"That moves."

Bram leaned around the casualty. "Which way?"

"Sideways." Mira tested it with a small shift of her foot. A timber knocked beneath the planks. "There. Did you hear that?"

Silas set his weapons down in their retaining case and crouched beside the near edge. Through the gap under the boards, he could see the loose support shoe sliding between the fixed stops. It could move far enough to tilt the deck before the restraints caught it.

Nobody would fall far. Their patient, however, would register every jolt.

Bram came down beside him after helping Alden lower the stretcher.

"Don’t try to rush it," Bram said. "We get on together, short steps. If it starts moving, we stop together."

Alden crouched at the front handles. "Can we lash it?"

"The far shoe? Not from here." Bram rubbed his nose and studied the opening. "We could unpack the longer strap, get Mira underneath—"

A wooden clack sounded back along the service lane. One of the defenders had struck a partition to announce their approach, as required.

Bram returned to the rear handles. Silas looked under the deck again.

He could fit a hand beside the shoe. The planks and their hanging side skirt screened the little space beneath from the lane. Mira was watching the approach from the far landing; Alden had his attention on the stretcher.

"Hold a moment," Silas said.

He took the marking stick from his practice kit and reached beneath the skirt. Three small marks on the fixed surfaces gave him a narrow enclosure around the side of the shoe. He left room for it to settle under weight; what mattered was stopping the sideways lurch.

Boundary Ward took shape against his fingers, much less forgiving here than it had been in his room. He fed it carefully until the barrier met the timber.

It would resist a shift. It would not hold the entire platform up, and he did not ask it to.

Silas withdrew his hand. "Take the left edge. Slowly. I’ll steady the front."

Alden and Bram lifted together. Silas caught the front of the stretcher with Remote Grasp and took just enough strain to soften a jolt. His other Talent held the shoe in its little enclosure.

The platform creaked.

He had to walk with them, keeping his attention on two entirely different kinds of pressure. His foot caught the end of a board; he shortened the next step, irritated with himself, and found the steady rhythm again.

"Down a little at your end," Bram told Alden. "There. Keep that."

The far handles reached the landing. Bram crossed last, and Silas let the ward go only after the rear of the stretcher cleared the deck.

No indicator on the dummy had changed.

Mira gave the casualty a quick look, then glanced back along the lane. "We need to move."

Silas retrieved his case with Remote Grasp and followed. His shirt was sticking between his shoulders, and he wanted an uninterrupted minute on any available bench.

Bram had not exaggerated the next turn. A timber wall jutted into the loading entrance, leaving a short dogleg before the collection yard. Alden tried the stretcher’s front end through and stopped before the frame struck the corner.

"We have to raise one end," he said.

"Not that high," Bram answered quickly. "His neck."

For once, he had spoken before looking to see whether anyone else agreed.

Silas glanced at the patient’s condition card, then at the doorway. The carrying poles could pass through lengthwise. The problem was the four people attached to them.

Behind him, Mira’s practice blade met the pursuing swordsman’s with a sharp wooden crack.

"Whatever you’re doing," she said, backing toward the entrance, "do it now."

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