The Farseekers (26 page)

'He is content,' Brydda said gently, when we had left the camp behind.

'That's what Darga said. But I'm not content. What a world this is in which someone like Pavo has to die so young,' I said.

'People will always be dying too young, whether in the Beforetime, or now. That is the way of the world.'

It took less than an hour to reach the fall of rocks which Brydda said concealed the opening to the Olden way. My feet were already hurting, though we had travelled at an easy pace. Brydda left us at the foot of the pile of fallen stone which hid the opening to the Olden way.

Before leaving he hugged us all tightly. Jik and Dragon, who both liked the big man, cried unselfconsciously. Darga wagged his tail slowly. Last of all Brydda looked at me seriously. 'Be careful, little cousin, your trials are not yet over. But I expect to see you in the spring.'

After he had gone I straightened myself, determinedly throwing off a wave of depression. I took a deep breath and started to climb, instructing Jik and Dragon to stay close behind Darga. Once we got to the top of the rockfall, I was disheartened to realize we would have to climb down the other side again before we could begin the ascent to the pass entrance.

It took us a considerable time to get up to the opening, and we were all dirty, grazed and exhausted before we reached the narrow slit which would barely fit a man through. Avra had wanted to come with us, because of Gahltha, but Brydda had convinced us the pass was too steep for a horse. I thought it unlikely she would have fitted through the opening to begin with. Thick vines had grown across it like a net, and some sort of spiders had made a web in them. It was years since Brydda had last gone there and I suspected nothing had passed that way since, for the webs were intricate and many layered, and covered in thick dust.

Dragon would not go through until she was certain none of the cobwebby tendrils would touch her.

It was late in the morning when we finally stood inside the Olden way. Darga sniffed, saying he scented no poisons in the vicinity.

Dry reedy grasses made a papery, whispering noise as we made our way up the incline. It was not as steep as the rock fall, but my feet ached with the strain of digging in for purchase. The trees growing in that early section were stunted, with spiky greyish leaves and stone-like buds, but ahead we could see a dark-green belt of trees. On either side of us, the mountains soared straight up, grey, pock-marked walls.

It was a long arduous climb to the tree-line and we were all puffing by the time we reached them. I was disappointed to find the ground did not level out. The trees had only given that illusion. It was darker beneath the canopy of entwined branches and leaves, and an eerie silence reigned that reminded me of the Silent Vale where I had gone to collect whitestick while in the Orphan Home at Kinraide.

I thought it would be strange if it turned out that Brydda were right, and there was only a narrow region of tainting in the pass. That would mean we might have escaped into the Olden way after getting away from the Druid camp. But how much would have changed if we had? We would not have met Grufyyd or Katlyn or Brydda, and we would not have entered Aborium. Strange how so many events meshed together.

Jik had begun trying to teach Dragon to say his name as they walked. I listened with only half an ear, preoccupied by a sudden feeling of unease. When we came out of the trees, I noticed the sky had darkened. The thought of a storm did not frighten me since it would keep the Druid's armsmen under cover and make an unobtrusive exit from the pass easier.

After a short way, the now sparse trees gave way to a high, thick kind of bramble running before us in a solid barrier. It offered no natural paths and was filled with stinging thorns. That meant we had to use knives to hack our way through. The severed branch ends leaked a defensive odour that made our eyes sting.

It took more than an hour to bypass the brambles. On the other side was a narrow, very deep gorge cutting directly across our path, at the bottom of which ran a tumultuous course of water. The stream and the gorge appeared to run all the way from Aran Craggie to Tor. I thought it quite likely the stream was a tributary of the Suggredoon, escaping through some crack from inside the mountain. It was too wide to jump and the only way to cross was to descend into the trench and swim the stream.

Dragon eyed the water fearfully and shuddered back from the edge in ominous terror. We wasted another hour trying to find a less steep descent but, in the end, returned to the original spot to climb down. The stream itself was overhung with a thick trailing fringe of creepers and vines, but the bank on both sides proved treacherously soft. I stared into the water glumly wondering how we would manage to get across safely. Up close, the water ran very fast.

'I will swim with a rope in my teeth,' Darga said. 'On the other side, I will pass the rope round a tree and hold it tight. Jik can cross first since he weighs little, then he can tie it.'

I looked at the opposite bank doubtfully. 'All right. But I'll tie the rope around you and hold the other end in case you get into trouble, so that I can pull you back.'

At first Darga disappeared completely beneath the roaring water. But a moment later he bobbed to the surface and struck out for the other bank. The current was so strong that he had to swim at an angle that made it look as if he were trying to make his way upstream like a salmon. He crept forward drawing fractionally nearer the opposite bank.

By the time he reached the edge he was clearly tiring badly but the ordeal was not over. I watched in consternation as he tried to scale the soft edges of the bank. Time and again, the treacherous earth gave way, plunging him back into the raging water.

'Pull him back,' Jik cried fearfully. 'He's drowning!'

'No,' Darga sent, his mind an exhausted whisper. The soft banks were deeply gouged before he managed at last to get a firm footing. I could see his body trembling with weariness as he dragged himself over the lip.

'Darga!' Jik shouted through his tears. Darga flapped his tail weakly twice, then lay like one dead for a long time.

When he had recovered, Darga walked round a tree, then braced himself, pulling the rope taut. I pulled my own end to test the strength of Brydda's rope, then fastened it to a stout tree trunk.

Jik went across hand over hand. The rope creaked and sagged until he hung waist deep in the water, but it held. He reached the other side safely and gave a triumphant yell before untying the rope from Darga and retying it around a rock. I had thought I might have to knock Dragon out and pull her across from the other side with the rope, but watching Jik seemed to have given her confidence. She was pale but surprisingly calm and, when I saw her cross, I realized it was because she had thought of a way to make sure the water did not touch her. She too went across hand over hand, her legs wrapped around the rope. She had been less frightened of the crossing than of the water.

I went last of all, half sorry I could think of no way to untie the rope. It was the only piece we had and might be needed again if there were more than one stream to cross.

I was disheartened at our lack of progress. Unless the way became easier, we were wasting valuable time negotiating endless obstacles. It had cost us more than two hours to cross an area less than two spans wide. Climbing out of the trench was harder than getting down into it and, at the top, I decided it was time to rest and eat.

Jik lit a small fire and I set a pot of soup to swing over it. While we waited, Jik sang a strange song the Herders had taught him about the Blacklands. He had a remarkably sweet voice and at my request sang songs until the food was hot enough to eat.

Heartened, we went on.

Not far ahead were more trees. The bandages on my feet were filthy and I suspected the scars were bleeding again, but the pain was less intense.

We trudged the remainder of the day without stopping, our legs aching from constantly walking up the steep incline. The trees proved less dense than in the first belt and, gradually, the slope became slighter, and walking less arduous. Darga assured me we were still some distance from the poisoned region. I thought we had been fortunate, but Obernewtyn still seemed far away. I could hardly believe that in a few days we would be home.

I looked up through the trees at the dim, bleary afternoon fading into a smoky twilight, and again apprehension swept over me.

The night air was distinctly chilly, and we were all glad of the blankets Brydda had insisted we carry. Winter had begun, and the first falls of snow would already be blanketing the higher mountain valleys. Very soon, snow would fall at Obernewtyn, if it had not already fallen. I shivered and pulled my cloak around my shoulders. The moon had begun to fatten in its cycle and should have lit our way clearly but, though visible, it produced a wan, strained light and we were forced to set our torches to flame. Moved by some impulse of urgency, I decided to go on despite Darga's warning that we were on the verge of crossing into the poisoned region.

'Can you find a safe way?' I asked him.

He sniffed. 'I can smell clean ground amidst foul earth,' he sent. We both knew it would be safer to wait until daylight, but I had the queer feeling the delays were bringing us close to some disaster.

I looked over to where Jik was continuing his lesson with the bemused Dragon in a short break. 'Ready?' I asked.

Jik looked across at me unsmilingly, and for an instant he looked suddenly old and frail, as near to death as Pavo. Then he smiled and the impression vanished.

We walked single file from then, Darga leading the way. Entering a stand of giant trees with monstrously gnarled and misshapen trunks and thick dark roots writhing up out of the ground, I thought I had seen such trees beyond the compound wall in Matthew's vision and hoped it meant we were nearing the other end of the pass.

At the same time, the ground beneath our feet became wet and soft. Our feet made sucking noises that echoed in the silence. The torchlight flickered on dark odorous puddles of water that seeped into the slightest depression. There seemed no source for the dampness. The light made a bizarre shadow play on the twisted tree trunks, making them look like the faces of ancient men and women. Dragon eyed them doubtfully as we passed.

After a time the wind rose, and leaves flapped sluggishly, heavy with moisture. We waded through a thick blanket of leaves. At once, the smell of the festering layers of leaves below filled the air with a sweet, rotten scent that made us all gag.

Darga sent a constant dialogue of instructions as the way became more fraught with danger, and I began to regret not stopping. He warned against certain plants or creepers, areas of bare ground and even some trees, guiding us through the poisonous labyrinth. Without him, we would have been helpless for there was scant outward sign of the poisons other than the distorted sizes and shapes of the trees and bushes growing all around us.

In the end, it was Darga who called a halt, saying he needed to rest. We went on until he found a patch of ground relatively clean of taint. My feet no longer gave me any trouble, for an ominous numbness had deprived them of all sensation. I felt I could walk over flames without feeling anything. I did not dare undo the bandages, afraid of what the loss of feeling might mean.

We ate the last of our store of perishable foods and sipped at the meagre remnant of water. I had wanted to fill the bottles along the way, but Darga had pronounced all water in the pass tainted enough to make a person sick. We would have to ration what was left of the water to make sure it would last us out.

Wearily I made a mental note to tell Jik and Darga the following day.

I was drifting into a light, troubled sleep when a terrible savage growling rent the air around us.

The growling seemed to vibrate in the air, even after it had ceased. Nothing stirred in the silence that followed, except for a faint breeze tugging at our blankets.

'What was that?' Jik whispered.

I set my mind loose, searching, hampered by the static given off by the poisons. I found nothing. 'Do you know what that was?' I asked Darga.

'Some kind of animal,' he suggested unhelpfully.

'Brydda said there were no big animals here,' Jik said, half-accusingly.

'He came here last a long time ago,' I said, trying to sound calm. Matthew had talked of the horrendous animal cries he had heard beyond the compound barrier while imprisoned.

Dragon was crouched near the tree, eyes wide and frightened. I opened my mouth to reassure her, but another of the blood-chilling growls cut off my words. My skin puckered into gooseflesh. Whatever could make such a noise had to be enormous.

Again the growl faded, but still there was no sign of the creature that had made it. Neither Jik nor Darga were any more successful at locating the mind pattern of the monster, though I did encounter a number of barely sentient minor patterns. But these were mere flickers of instinct rather than thought.

We gave up and sat around staring uneasily into the darkness around us.

Five more times, the eerie howling shattered the night, before I began to accept that it was not, as we had all feared, a signal for attack or a hunting cry. Even so I could not help thinking that a creature who could make such a noise, and conceal its mind, might be clever enough to hide its intention to attack.

But there was no attack.

Morning found us bleary eyed and ill rested, for the cries had seemed to grow nearer and more frequent as the night wore on. In the end we decided there was more than one of the creatures, or one was circling us. Both prospects made for uneasy slumber.

To our further dismay, we had not been walking long the next day before the giant stand of trees gave way abruptly to a seemingly endless mire reminiscent of the blighted Berryn Mor. Here the few trees that managed to grow in the sodden ground were thin and sickly looking, bereft of leaf, and shrouded in a furry grey mould.

The only reassuring thing about the spindly skeletons looming out of the mist was that they told us the water was quite shallow. The ground lay only a few handspans below the surface and, though soft, was firm enough to walk on. Darga went ahead, warning us to step exactly where he did, since there were holes and trenches all through the swamp. He said the water was tainted but only slightly.