Han walked the bridge stones, checking that each defender had a clear path to the high trail. The carts moved in fits and starts. A wheel caught at the center seam, then freed itself when two drivers pushed together.
Oren came up from the eastern bank. “You should pull back before the riders reach the narrow span.”
“How many families are still on the west side?” Han asked.
“Two groups. One cart and the wounded litter.”
“Then we hold until they cross.”
Oren looked toward the ravine. “You can’t hold against every rider.”
“I don’t need to hold against every rider. I need the bridge open for the carts and the high trail clear for the families.”
Oren looked back at the waiting families. “My mill road can take two carts at a time. If they all turn at once, the first bend will jam.”
