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that tower before dark?" she asked in an undertone.
"We're close," Randal told her. "But if I remember right, we have to cross the stream first."
"How?"
"There should be a bridge," he said. "Up where the gorge starts to narrow again."
"I hope you're right," Lys said. She glanced over where Walter sat huddled inside his cloak, then turned
back to Randal with a grave expression.
"Because I don't think your cousin can last through a night out in the open."
They went on climbing the cliff path step by painful step. Then, abruptly, they turned a corner, and saw
that the path continued on the far side of the stream.
The two paths were connected by pieces of what had once been a stone bridge. The central span had
collapsed, leaving a gap of some thirty feet between the broken ends still standing. A tall, lightning-struck
fir tree stood beside the bridge on the far bank of the ravine. Nothing stood on the near side but a broken
stump.
"That's it," Walter said. "We're stopped."
Randal looked down. Two thousand feet below, the threadlike current tumbled in white water over sharp
rocks. He dropped a stone. It vanished from sight as it fell, and he never saw a splash nor heard a sound.
He looked back at the wreckage of the bridge.
"No," he said. "That dead tree is taller than the gap is wide. If we can get it down, we'll have our bridge."
"In case you hadn't noticed," Lys pointed out, "the tree is on the wrong side."
"I know," said Randal. "I'll have to jump across."
Lys shook her head. "Wrong," she said. "I'll jump."
Randal stared at her. "You?"
"Me," she said. She looked pale and frightened, but her eyes were serious. "I'm lighter, and I've worked
as an acrobat. If you jump and miss, it'll all be over. No magic, no healing, nothing. If I miss . . . what's
another lute player, more or less?"
She unslung her lute and thrust it into Randal's hands. "Here, hold this."
Without further discussion, she went off the path, past the ruined bridge, heading for the place where the
gap between the two cliffs was narrowest. She clung to the rock face at places to do it, but she soon
reached a point where nothing separated the cliffs except five yards of empty air.
"She'll never make it," muttered Walter.
"Yes, she will," said Randal. I hope, he added to himself. Lys was surefooted and stronger than she
looked, but the jump was longer than any he himself had ever tried, with a long drop to the water and
stone below.
Biting his lip, he looked again at the shattered remnants of the bridge. The edge of the broken stone
showed unweathered rock and fresh dirt on the line of the break. The wood of the broken tree stump to
his right was fresh and white. He shook his head. This bridge hadn't failed more than three days earlier;
probably at the same time as the rockslide on the trail behind them.
A shiver, brought on not just by the wind, moved up his spine. He was getting a bad feeling about what
he might find if they ever reached the wizard's tower.
He turned away from the bridge and saw that up ahead, Lys had arrived at the narrowest part of the gap.
She waved at him, then curled into a ball and flung herself over the empty space.
She missed the path by inches. Randal watched helplessly as she scrabbled at the loose rock with her
outstretched hands. I should have tried the jump myself, he thought. No matter what she said.
Her fingers caught a small ledge just before the cliff turned vertical, and she came to a halt amid dust and
rolling stones. Pulling herself up inch by inch, she got a foot into a crack and began to crawl up the steep
slope. At last she threw a leg over the edge of the carved path, rolled to the top, and lay full length on the
ground for a moment. Then she stood, and ran down the path to the far end of the bridge.
She pushed against the lightning-struck tree. It swayed a little. "The roots aren't deep," she called. "I'm
going to push it over."
Lys put her back to it, and began rocking the dead tree in place. With a crackle and a crash, it toppled
over. With its top branches caught on the cliff where Randal and Walter waited, it stuck, its base
narrowly wedged among the rocks on Lys's side.
"There's our bridge," Randal said. "Let's go."
Randal helped Walter to his feet. They walked to the tree. Walter looked at the makeshift bridge and
shook his head.
"This may not hold," he said. "I'll cross first. If the tree breaks with you on it, I'm likely to die before I can
get back to Tattinham alone. If it breaks when I'm on it, I'll only go a little sooner. And better I should die
than you anyway."
Randal started to protest, and then stopped. If Balpesh couldn't-or wouldn't-heal Walter, the young
knight would never be able to use a sword again.
No wonder he's taking such chances, Randal thought. He doesn't really care whether this journey kills
him or not.
In silence, Randal watched as Walter made his slow, painful way across the gap. Unable to use his arms
to balance himself, the young knight stepped carefully around the protruding branches, while the ends of
the tree shifted and worked against the stones on either side.
The wind blowing up from the gorge fluttered the bottom of his arming coat, and blew his hair across his
face. He reached the far end and collapsed against Lys. Gently, she helped him sit again.
Randal slung Lys's lute across his own shoulder and stepped out onto the tree. He could feel it vibrate
under him, and hear the the rocks grating under the branches. The cold wind flowed past him. He looked
down once, then hurriedly fixed his gaze on the far bank.
Even as Randal reached the far side, the tree began to wobble. The roots pulled all the way out of the
earth with a snapping sound, and the trunk fell into the gorge. Randal sat down hard, and didn't dare look
to follow its progress.
"That's it, then," said Lys. "No going back." From this side of the bridge, the way to Balpesh's tower was
smooth and easy. The path led away from the edge of the cliff and became a steep set of steps carved
into the rock. The three reached the rise at the top of the stairs, and found themselves looking down at a
small pocket of fertile ground set in the midst of the harsh mountain landscape.
A stream flowed through the valley, past a wattle fenced farmyard containing a barn and a henhouse and
a vegetable garden. In the center of the farm yard, a stone tower stood out stark black against the
gray-and-white mountain that rose behind it. Even now, the sun was dropping behind that peak, and long
purple shadows lay across the little valley.
"Well, here we are," Randal said.
And not a moment too soon, he added silently. Walter was swaying where he stood. Randal and Lys
exchanged glances, and moved to support him on either side.
They walked down the gentle slope toward the fence.
A simple gate, designed to keep animals in, rather than people out, blocked the path. Randal opened it
and stepped through. He looked around the farmyard, and saw a pair of nanny goats, their udders heavy,
waiting on their milking stands and bleating unhappily. In the pigsty, a sow rooted in an empty slop
trough.
I don't like the looks of this, Randal thought. But this is Balpesh's tower, all right.
It has to be.
His uneasiness grew as they walked up the flagstone path toward the front door of the tower. The
tower's windows were shuttered, and the door was closed. No latch showed on the outside. Randal
pounded on the door with his fist.
"Hello!" he shouted. "Open the door!"
Nobody answered. Lys helped Walter sit down, and then picked up a stone beside the path. She
pounded on the door with the stone, and added her voice to Randal's.
Randal looked at her hands. They were red with blood. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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that tower before dark?" she asked in an undertone.
"We're close," Randal told her. "But if I remember right, we have to cross the stream first."
"How?"
"There should be a bridge," he said. "Up where the gorge starts to narrow again."
"I hope you're right," Lys said. She glanced over where Walter sat huddled inside his cloak, then turned
back to Randal with a grave expression.
"Because I don't think your cousin can last through a night out in the open."
They went on climbing the cliff path step by painful step. Then, abruptly, they turned a corner, and saw
that the path continued on the far side of the stream.
The two paths were connected by pieces of what had once been a stone bridge. The central span had
collapsed, leaving a gap of some thirty feet between the broken ends still standing. A tall, lightning-struck
fir tree stood beside the bridge on the far bank of the ravine. Nothing stood on the near side but a broken
stump.
"That's it," Walter said. "We're stopped."
Randal looked down. Two thousand feet below, the threadlike current tumbled in white water over sharp
rocks. He dropped a stone. It vanished from sight as it fell, and he never saw a splash nor heard a sound.
He looked back at the wreckage of the bridge.
"No," he said. "That dead tree is taller than the gap is wide. If we can get it down, we'll have our bridge."
"In case you hadn't noticed," Lys pointed out, "the tree is on the wrong side."
"I know," said Randal. "I'll have to jump across."
Lys shook her head. "Wrong," she said. "I'll jump."
Randal stared at her. "You?"
"Me," she said. She looked pale and frightened, but her eyes were serious. "I'm lighter, and I've worked
as an acrobat. If you jump and miss, it'll all be over. No magic, no healing, nothing. If I miss . . . what's
another lute player, more or less?"
She unslung her lute and thrust it into Randal's hands. "Here, hold this."
Without further discussion, she went off the path, past the ruined bridge, heading for the place where the
gap between the two cliffs was narrowest. She clung to the rock face at places to do it, but she soon
reached a point where nothing separated the cliffs except five yards of empty air.
"She'll never make it," muttered Walter.
"Yes, she will," said Randal. I hope, he added to himself. Lys was surefooted and stronger than she
looked, but the jump was longer than any he himself had ever tried, with a long drop to the water and
stone below.
Biting his lip, he looked again at the shattered remnants of the bridge. The edge of the broken stone
showed unweathered rock and fresh dirt on the line of the break. The wood of the broken tree stump to
his right was fresh and white. He shook his head. This bridge hadn't failed more than three days earlier;
probably at the same time as the rockslide on the trail behind them.
A shiver, brought on not just by the wind, moved up his spine. He was getting a bad feeling about what
he might find if they ever reached the wizard's tower.
He turned away from the bridge and saw that up ahead, Lys had arrived at the narrowest part of the gap.
She waved at him, then curled into a ball and flung herself over the empty space.
She missed the path by inches. Randal watched helplessly as she scrabbled at the loose rock with her
outstretched hands. I should have tried the jump myself, he thought. No matter what she said.
Her fingers caught a small ledge just before the cliff turned vertical, and she came to a halt amid dust and
rolling stones. Pulling herself up inch by inch, she got a foot into a crack and began to crawl up the steep
slope. At last she threw a leg over the edge of the carved path, rolled to the top, and lay full length on the
ground for a moment. Then she stood, and ran down the path to the far end of the bridge.
She pushed against the lightning-struck tree. It swayed a little. "The roots aren't deep," she called. "I'm
going to push it over."
Lys put her back to it, and began rocking the dead tree in place. With a crackle and a crash, it toppled
over. With its top branches caught on the cliff where Randal and Walter waited, it stuck, its base
narrowly wedged among the rocks on Lys's side.
"There's our bridge," Randal said. "Let's go."
Randal helped Walter to his feet. They walked to the tree. Walter looked at the makeshift bridge and
shook his head.
"This may not hold," he said. "I'll cross first. If the tree breaks with you on it, I'm likely to die before I can
get back to Tattinham alone. If it breaks when I'm on it, I'll only go a little sooner. And better I should die
than you anyway."
Randal started to protest, and then stopped. If Balpesh couldn't-or wouldn't-heal Walter, the young
knight would never be able to use a sword again.
No wonder he's taking such chances, Randal thought. He doesn't really care whether this journey kills
him or not.
In silence, Randal watched as Walter made his slow, painful way across the gap. Unable to use his arms
to balance himself, the young knight stepped carefully around the protruding branches, while the ends of
the tree shifted and worked against the stones on either side.
The wind blowing up from the gorge fluttered the bottom of his arming coat, and blew his hair across his
face. He reached the far end and collapsed against Lys. Gently, she helped him sit again.
Randal slung Lys's lute across his own shoulder and stepped out onto the tree. He could feel it vibrate
under him, and hear the the rocks grating under the branches. The cold wind flowed past him. He looked
down once, then hurriedly fixed his gaze on the far bank.
Even as Randal reached the far side, the tree began to wobble. The roots pulled all the way out of the
earth with a snapping sound, and the trunk fell into the gorge. Randal sat down hard, and didn't dare look
to follow its progress.
"That's it, then," said Lys. "No going back." From this side of the bridge, the way to Balpesh's tower was
smooth and easy. The path led away from the edge of the cliff and became a steep set of steps carved
into the rock. The three reached the rise at the top of the stairs, and found themselves looking down at a
small pocket of fertile ground set in the midst of the harsh mountain landscape.
A stream flowed through the valley, past a wattle fenced farmyard containing a barn and a henhouse and
a vegetable garden. In the center of the farm yard, a stone tower stood out stark black against the
gray-and-white mountain that rose behind it. Even now, the sun was dropping behind that peak, and long
purple shadows lay across the little valley.
"Well, here we are," Randal said.
And not a moment too soon, he added silently. Walter was swaying where he stood. Randal and Lys
exchanged glances, and moved to support him on either side.
They walked down the gentle slope toward the fence.
A simple gate, designed to keep animals in, rather than people out, blocked the path. Randal opened it
and stepped through. He looked around the farmyard, and saw a pair of nanny goats, their udders heavy,
waiting on their milking stands and bleating unhappily. In the pigsty, a sow rooted in an empty slop
trough.
I don't like the looks of this, Randal thought. But this is Balpesh's tower, all right.
It has to be.
His uneasiness grew as they walked up the flagstone path toward the front door of the tower. The
tower's windows were shuttered, and the door was closed. No latch showed on the outside. Randal
pounded on the door with his fist.
"Hello!" he shouted. "Open the door!"
Nobody answered. Lys helped Walter sit down, and then picked up a stone beside the path. She
pounded on the door with the stone, and added her voice to Randal's.
Randal looked at her hands. They were red with blood. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]