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He would never stand a chance out there alone.
Two miles of travel brought them to a descending
slope with forest beyond, and beyond that the sound of a
torrent raging. The valley's stream would be out of its
banks by now, a rushing beast that no one could cross.
While Chane rested, with the attentive Jilian chatter-
ing at his side, Wingover scouted. When he returned, he
had news. Upstream a half-mile was a well-worn path
going east. If there was a bridge, it should be there.
"And if the alert went out, that's where the goblins on
the other side will be waiting," the wizard pointed out.
Chane got to his feet. "We'll weld that joint when we
find it," he said gruffly.
Wingover shrugged. 'Then lead on, Grallen-kin," he
said.
Again, then, they were on the move. The path
Wingover had found veered eastward, downslope and
into forest, beyond which the torrent raged. The little
stream that Camber Meld had called Respite River was,
in normal conditions, a tame and pretty brook. Now,
though, it was rushing, whitecapped black water nearly
a hundred yards across -- but spanned yet by a raised
footbridge wide enough to allow carts to pass from one
side to the other.
Beyond the stream was rainy darkness.
"I'll go first." Chane took a deep breath, drawing him-
self up. "I'm the only one who might get a look at the
other side before he's spotted."
Without waiting for argument, the dwarf trotted
down the streaming bank, waded through knee-deep
water to the bridge's ramp, and disappeared in pouring
darkness
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