Hunt at The Well Of Eternity

The jungle remained nearly impenetrable, right up to the point where it suddenly thinned out and they stepped onto a grassy verge about ten yards wide. After that, the ground dropped away into the yawning nothingness of the chasm Mariella had spoken of. The Blade of the Gods was a good name for it. Fifty yards wide, evidently hundreds of feet deep, its sides were perfectly sheer and dropped straight down.

Mariella had led them unerringly to the only spot where they could cross the chasm. A four-foot-wide bridge made of thick ropes and rough-hewn planks extended across the giant slash in the earth. Cierra muttered, “Dios mio,” when she saw it, and when Gabriel glanced over at her he saw the fear in her eyes. A breeze drifted along the gorge and, at its touch, the bridge swayed back and forth.

They stepped out onto the span, walked cautiously forward. The bridge sagged under their weight. Gabriel saw the ropes attached to the anchor posts tighten around the wood.

This would be a heck of a place for a trap, Gabriel thought.

As if reading his thoughts, Alexei Podnemovitch stepped out of the jungle at the western end of the bridge. He had a gun in his hand. He leveled the revolver at Gabriel. “Not another step, Hunt…”