Palaces of Light by James Axler

way, or even chance to look this way, even at such a distance they would be highlighted perfectly against the empty sky behind them.
    Swiftly, Ryan led them along the lip of the canyon. It was clear that there were well-established paths on this side of the abyss, just as there were on the far side, where the palaces lay. This much was clear from the way in which those paths that crisscrossed the canyon floor, running across the winding creek, meandered across until they ran out of sight beneath the overhanging lip where the companions now stood. From here there was no egress, but there had to be at some point. This would be where the abductors had taken the children when they reached the canyon the previous evening. It was just a matter of finding that point.
    Traversing the canyon lip, and keeping low in case they could be seen from the other side, they soon reached a point where the lip of the canyon receded so that it was no longer overhanging. Instead, it now provided a short, sloping path down to a ledge of rock that was connected precariously to another that snaked at an acute angle. The dusty surface was tramped flat and worn in the center so that it formed a groove, as if it had been trodden over a long period by many feet.
    This had to be the way, had to be the way taken by the party the previous day. There was nothing else that offered an obvious path.
    Ryan paused. Steep and treacherous, the path brought the memory of the strange hallucination they had suffered so recently, which had seemingly ended with him plunging to his doom. That was a hell of a thing to have come into your head when you had to be so sure-footed, Ryan thought. Even more so when he considered how open to any potential view they would be, silhouetted against the rock face as they descended.
    Krysty was at his elbow, looking into the depths of the canyon, and across to similar paths that scarred the rock face opposite.
    “It’s not like the dreams,” she whispered. “This can be sure underfoot. And I’ll tell you something else. There must be cover along the way.”
    “Why do you say that?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
    “Look,” she said, indicating across the vast mouth of the canyon. Across the way, on the paths that proscribed similar trajectories, there were clumps and clusters of rock, some littering the paths before forming walls that would provide cover from probing eyes. Some of the rock had come from falls and splits along the rock face that had formed small cavelike apertures, which would also, if used wisely, provide cover.
    Ryan’s face cracked into a crooked grin. He felt better about this. If they could make anything similar on this side, then they could establish observation posts and work out just what their prey was doing, assess numbers and cultivate any weak spots. They needed any edge they could find.
    Indicating to the others that they should follow him, Ryan began the descent. The first section of the path was steep, and he was cautious in case he gained too much momentum to make the sudden sharp angle of turn. The last thing he wanted was to tumble into the abyss. And, in truth, the residue of the vision in which he had fallen was still in his head, no matter how much he attempted to dismiss it.
    He could feel, rather than see or hear, the others at his back. When he reached the turn, he could almost feel the extra depth of groove in the path that told of the efforts of the countless others who had gone before him, taking the care that he now exercised. Once he had got past that, and was on the other path, he almost breathed a sigh of relief. As he moved at an acute angle to the previous path, he was able to see them as they, too, took the turn. This path, although still descending at a steep gradient, was easier to negotiate.
    Moments later, Ryan quickened his pace. The path was starting to level out, and they had reached a wider section that dovetailed with other paths that had either been hewn from or