Jardon finished reaching down and picking up the gun. There didn't seem to be anything else to do.
As he'd half suspected, it was cracked at the midpoint. Perhaps a bullet had struck it earlier, perhaps it had been damaged in its owners fall. For whatever reason, he couldn't imagine it firing. He shivered, suddenly feeling the emotion of the moment.
It was easy to do the right thing in an instant. He had had no time for regret, confusion, or even careful thought. Now, holding the evidence, he very nearly threw up. He had been about to die. If the man on the other bank hadn't been there, his carcass would be splayed out where he was standing, even now. The refugees would still be trapped, his men would be fruitlessly shooting into the water, or, Morrow forgive him, rushing out onto the bridge to try and recover his body. He shook his head, slowly.
The civilians had begun to file towards him, several of them raising impromptu cheers, and he was obliged to back up and let them get to the bank. As he got back to the bank he realized that the cheers weren't just coming from those who had just been released, many of his troops were contributing to the general din as well. He wasn't sure exactly how many of them understood what had happened. He'd walked to the middle of the bridge, stopped, and the enemy had fallen.
He instructed Jarl to see to the needs of their rescued countrymen, and listened with half an ear to the girls' protests. Sansa was particularly vehement about it, he suspected that she was jealous that he'd thought of the lone walk onto the bridge before her. He noticed May fetching the broken weapon that the Gunmage had dropped, that'd be trouble later. Then he joined Jarl in his labors.
The refugees had only been captured for about a day, for the most part. They'd been a caravan heading to the monastary, having quickly thrown their things into wagons and left their towns. The Cryxian capture had taken place as night fell, jacks and corpses burrowing from the ground around them. They'd been escorted to the island, seemingly because the enemy's thrall creating elements were not present, or perhaps for some yet darker purpose. Vaslo (the Cygnaran), had arrived some time later with his partner, also a captive. They'd spearheaded an aborted breakout attempt earlier that morning.
Jardon listened with half an ear to the circumstances, saying the correct things and leaving things mostly to Jarl. He excused himself a moment later, and went to meet the gunman. The fellow had blended into the crowd as they crossed, and now stood motionless and silent by the edge of the bridge.
