Bridge

Bridges are liminal spaces. Between land and land, where the running water that witches can't cross resides. Between here and there, where the power of the magic is strongest. Fragile lines of connection or weakness, in the places where realms touch.

Alys stood on the bridge and looked towards the mainland, where the mass of the army was already drawing up. Hundreds of soldiers, pillagers, destroyers, fat with the fruit of the land they had marched over. Staring at her and the bridge that must be held.

Behind them, somewhere in the dark and the wild spaces, the warriors of her people who remained slipped down the hidden paths, nipping at the edges and the weak spots of the invading host, hoping to cut supply lines and communication lines. They were still there, she believed, she had to believe. All resistance was not gone. The invaders' confidence would turn out to be arrogance.

Behind her, out of sight on the island, her people huddled – harried, hungry, desperate for safety and sanctuary. They had scrambled east ahead of the snarling mass, all the time aware that they were being herded towards the end of the line.

Towards the bridge, and the last, desperate thing that they could do.

“Alys.” Beside her, Ferze, her fellow priest, looked out towards the army. “You don't have to do this.”

“We're out of options,” she told him, knowing that he knew.

“We can destroy the bridge.”

“And trap our people on the island. Let them,” she nodded towards the invaders, “sit there and wait while we starve. You know we can't do that.”

“We can raise the barriers, work in shifts, let them wear themselves out attacking, hold on until ...”

Alys looked at the priests and acolytes getting ready to perform the protective spells. Looked at how few of them remained.

“Until what?” she asked.

“Until the warriors get here.”

“And then what?” She looked at his frustrated expression. “You know we have no choice.”

“This could destroy your soul!”

“It won't. I believe that. And you have to believe that too.”

“And if it fails?” His voice was resigned.

Alys looked back towards the island. “Comfort our people as best you can,” she said. “Surrender. And pray that we're clansfolk in the next life too.”

A young woman joined them. “We're ready,” she said.

“Thank you, Johana.” Alys reached out and gripped Ferze's elbow. “It's time.”

Ferze nodded and went to join the others. The chanting began, and Alys felt the strange thump of the first barrier coming into being. For one moment more, she paused, breathed, felt the force of all of Ferze's arguments and her own certainty clash inside her. Then she walked forward into the cleared space at the middle of the bridge span.

The second barrier thumped into existence behind her. She centred her breath, rolled her shoulders, and reached for the power of the place, letting it flow into her. Then she lifted her hands and began to move the the slow, building movement of the sacred dance.

All around her, the demons woke.