The rope went taut, tugging Jig closer to the edge. Another three steps and he’d be on the bridge. What if he fell? What if the wind got stronger and blew him over the edge? Would the others try to pull him up? More likely they would cut the rope and let him fall. Why else would they put him last? This way they could cut him loose without sacrificing themselves.

Two more steps. Maybe the bridge only worked for certain races. Would it support a goblin as well as a human? Magic was funny that way, and he had a sudden, vivid memory of the marble panels that had hidden their dead attackers. Those had felt solid enough, up until they vanished. Was there a trigger to make these panels disappear as well?

One step. Of course. The spell must be designed to wait until the last person stepped out of the tunnel. Only then would it vanish. He was the last one. As soon as he took that next step, they would all fall to their deaths. He was the only one who could save them. He had to get this knot undone. His fingers clawed at the rope, but the dwarf had tied a good knot, and it wouldn’t budge.

“Wait,” he whispered. “Please wait.”

The rope jerked him forward, and he fell onto the bridge. The solid, unmoving bridge. Jig froze. Ahead the others glanced back impatiently. The tiles hadn’t faded. He wasn’t falling. He wasn’t falling! He was trembling so much he couldn’t stand up, but he wasn’t falling.

“You planning to walk, or were you expecting us to drag you across?” Darnak yelled. His voice echoed in the chasm.

Jig tried to rise. The bridge was wide enough. Three tiles wide, which was more than twice the length of a goblin. He would be okay. All he had to do was stand up and walk after the others.

“I’m coming,” he yelled back. He rose to his knees, glanced over the edge, and promptly dropped back to the floor. Crawling would be just fine, he decided. Smudge crawled everywhere, and he never lost his balance. At that moment, Jig would have been happier with eight legs, but he’d be all right with four. He hoped.

About thirty feet ahead, Ryslind pointed to a tile in the center. “Illusion,” he said.

What a nasty trick. Jig chewed his lip as he neared the false tile. He would have to go around. The tile looked as solid as the rest. He touched a finger to the marble surface and watched it pass right through, so it looked like his finger had been severed at the knuckle. Like Riana’s. If Ryslind hadn’t seen the trap, they would have fallen.

“Watch us, not the bottom,” Darnak snapped.