The river below is almost musical to my ears as it crashes against rocks and land, but no matter how beautiful the blue path of water is, it doesn’t change my unease of the next path I’m taking. The long path, made only of wood and rope, floats in midair, daring anyone to cross. It’s stretches on and from here, I can see no end.

The wind blows, cold as always, forcing me to shrink into my leather jacket, as it tries to persuade me to go back home. The dizzying height of the land I’m standing on is dizzying. I move back, I don’t trust the land to keep me in place and I don’t trust the wind to allow me to take my own steps onto the bridge. It’s been two hours and I have done nothing but stare at the bridge. Will I ever deliver this parcel? Should I cross and risk my death along with the crash of the fragile glass sword? This is all too much to bear, the trust of the whole town was given to me and I can’t lose that, not when I only just earned it.

As the night begins to push the sun further down the sky, I sense the creatures around me begin to come alive. I hadn’t noticed them before, but now I can see the huge groups of flies flying by like one big family; I can see the branches on the trees shake as the birds fly into their nests; I can hear the river below calming down and what were loud thunderous crashes a few minutes ago, are now no more than hushed whispers as the river continues to crash into the rocks. The creatures around me bring me an unexpected feeling of comfort as I lay my head on my arm and doze off.

I open my eyes and find that it is still dark, midnight maybe. Did something wake me up? I’m not sure. I stand up and stretch my arms. I quickly rearrange my hair so it’s off my face and I have decided to overcome my fear. I will cross the river. Now! “You can do this,” I say as loudly as possible, but it only comes out as a shaken murmur. I pick up the box covered in crimson coloured velvet and look inside to check on the glass sword. My knees buckle and I fall, gasping for air as I look at the empty box that protected the sword. What have I done.....

I snatch my backpack and run to my horse, I left her near some food and plants that she might like the night before; she was too heavy to cross the bridge so I had to leave her until I come back. She is surprised at my urgency but quickly understands that we have to go. I race back into the forest, my eyes searching for the thief, looking for someone to blame for my failure to protect the one thing that can solve all my people's problems. It would give us answers on why the Hajinties killed so many of us, why so many humans chose to live as slaves instead of hiding in the forests.

I look around and finally spot something. A man with his back to me sitting on his knees. As I come closer, he turns around, his green eyes filled with new tears to replace the ones that already slid down across his cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak but turns around again placing his face in his trembling hands. I jump off my horse to help him. By the looks of him, he is twenty-four or more, a couple of years older than me. “ Are you alright?” I ask, walking closer to him. I stand behind him and look around for the reason he might be so upset. There, laying on the floor in shattered pieces, glistening in the moonlight, lyes what can only be the sword.

An involuntary gasp escapes from my lips. There is only one sword on this planet. This thief stole what wasn’t his and destroyed my town's only hope of a better life. We live underground in a deep part of the forest. Like rats, we hide from the world. Like beggars, waiting for any sign of help, a savior to reach out his hands and pull us out of the darkness. Years have passed and no one came, so I was sent to cross the bridge that stretches for miles and is barely held together, and I will place the sword in the Hole of Marculan and come back with what I saw in the cave. All the time gone in planning my journey is now nothing compared to the decades it would take to make a new sword.

I look at this man sitting on the grass, crying for a reason I am yet to understand. The sword sits in perfectly equal pieces on the floor. I quickly gather them and place them in the box, trying to not acknowledge the gaze of the man. I quickly jump onto my horse and lead her to the bridge as fast as I can. As I reach the bridge, the man that was sitting crying on the floor seconds ago, is now standing in front of me, blocking my way to the bridge. His pained expression is now replaced by an evil smirk. His green eyes that were an earthy green, are now a bold dark orchid colour. “You didn’t think I would let you go that easily did you,” he says with the smirk still in place. Without thinking I flick my wrist commanding my horse to move forward onto the weak bridge. I don’t know what will happen next, but I will not fail my people.

L.M. Mansour