gorge narrowed, the slopes becoming bare and precipitous; she rounded a bend and saw the gateway ahead already.
She paused, then, panting and yet chilled as the mountain air nipped through her heavy cloak. The light was different this time, the ruin less sinister, less distinct, more like part of the cliffs from which it sprung. She could not distinguish the illusion of a face in it. The arch spanning the ravine no longer seemed like a mouth. The empty windows above were not eyes, nor the stunted trees on top hair. She saw only a ruin of white stone--old and sad, but not threatening.
Reassured, she hastened forward. Even when she reached the arch itself, she did not falter or break stride. The exit showed ahead beyond a brief darkness that echoed with the roar of a waterfall in the depths. In a moment she emerged on the far side.
The gorge had widened dramatically. The moon shone clearly from a sky of black crystal, casting harder shadows. Off to the right, a small river cascaded down into unseen darkness but ahead the valley floor was level, and bare, flanked by cliffs. The Way continued, winding between pinnacles and slabs of rock; high on either hand great mountains shone as icy ghosts under the silver orb of the moon. There was no color, only paleness and dark and rare patches of snow.
She hurried on, soon losing the noise of the cataract, walking into silence. Even the wind had stilled, as if the night held its breath. She could hear nothing but the faint crunch of her feet on the gravel and the steady beat of her heart.
It would not all be this easy, of course. Mistress Mearn had admitted that the Defile was an ordeal. Mist had been frightened out of his wits. Yet the Way continued empty and level. The river had vanished completely. Nothing seemed to grow in this desolation except straggly tufts of pale grass, hardly darker than the snowbanks.
The corners were where danger might lurk. Flat though the path was, it zigzagged between the jagged monoliths, and she could rarely see very far ahead.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, said her feet on the grit.
The light was strange, an ethereal blend of silver and jet. Even the stones had taken on a transparent look, the shadows were indistinct and ghostly. Although the air was calm, it was bitterly cold on her heated face. Her breath came in puffs of rainbow-tinted fog.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
An ordeal could not possibly be so easy. She began to use a little commonsense caution, slowing down at each blind corner, edging around cautiously in case some horror barred her path. Always the Way was empty in the moonlight.
Leeb! Think of Leeb! Whoever you are, my darling, I am coming back to you.
How far would she have to go? The great peaks glimmered against the sky, unchanging. Surely the Defile could not take her right through the range, whatever range it was, because then she would be Outside, and pixies never went Outside, where the demons lurked.
She had argued with the Keeper! Talking back like an impudent child ... She paused at another blind corner, where the Way angled around a wall of rock. Hugging that wall, she peered cautiously, first one eye, then both. She saw rocks and dirt and a few patches of snow and the gravel path. Nothing more.
As she moved away from the wall, her shadow moved upon it. Out of the corner of her eye--
Two shadows!
She screamed and was running before she knew it.
She had not looked back! She had heeded the Keeper's warning! But out of the corner of her eye she had seen the second shadow right behind her own. It had been a trick of the light, hadn't it? Just dark streaks in the stone? Sticks ... the shadow of a tree maybe! But there were no trees.
She hurtled along the path with her hair flying and the air cold in her throat.
Cru-unch. Cru-unch. Something had changed in her footsteps. They did not sound the same. They seemed to echo off something right behind her.
At her heels.
Keeping pace. Cru-unch, cru-unch, cru-unch ... It was
She paused, then, panting and yet chilled as the mountain air nipped through her heavy cloak. The light was different this time, the ruin less sinister, less distinct, more like part of the cliffs from which it sprung. She could not distinguish the illusion of a face in it. The arch spanning the ravine no longer seemed like a mouth. The empty windows above were not eyes, nor the stunted trees on top hair. She saw only a ruin of white stone--old and sad, but not threatening.
Reassured, she hastened forward. Even when she reached the arch itself, she did not falter or break stride. The exit showed ahead beyond a brief darkness that echoed with the roar of a waterfall in the depths. In a moment she emerged on the far side.
The gorge had widened dramatically. The moon shone clearly from a sky of black crystal, casting harder shadows. Off to the right, a small river cascaded down into unseen darkness but ahead the valley floor was level, and bare, flanked by cliffs. The Way continued, winding between pinnacles and slabs of rock; high on either hand great mountains shone as icy ghosts under the silver orb of the moon. There was no color, only paleness and dark and rare patches of snow.
She hurried on, soon losing the noise of the cataract, walking into silence. Even the wind had stilled, as if the night held its breath. She could hear nothing but the faint crunch of her feet on the gravel and the steady beat of her heart.
It would not all be this easy, of course. Mistress Mearn had admitted that the Defile was an ordeal. Mist had been frightened out of his wits. Yet the Way continued empty and level. The river had vanished completely. Nothing seemed to grow in this desolation except straggly tufts of pale grass, hardly darker than the snowbanks.
The corners were where danger might lurk. Flat though the path was, it zigzagged between the jagged monoliths, and she could rarely see very far ahead.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, said her feet on the grit.
The light was strange, an ethereal blend of silver and jet. Even the stones had taken on a transparent look, the shadows were indistinct and ghostly. Although the air was calm, it was bitterly cold on her heated face. Her breath came in puffs of rainbow-tinted fog.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
An ordeal could not possibly be so easy. She began to use a little commonsense caution, slowing down at each blind corner, edging around cautiously in case some horror barred her path. Always the Way was empty in the moonlight.
Leeb! Think of Leeb! Whoever you are, my darling, I am coming back to you.
How far would she have to go? The great peaks glimmered against the sky, unchanging. Surely the Defile could not take her right through the range, whatever range it was, because then she would be Outside, and pixies never went Outside, where the demons lurked.
She had argued with the Keeper! Talking back like an impudent child ... She paused at another blind corner, where the Way angled around a wall of rock. Hugging that wall, she peered cautiously, first one eye, then both. She saw rocks and dirt and a few patches of snow and the gravel path. Nothing more.
As she moved away from the wall, her shadow moved upon it. Out of the corner of her eye--
Two shadows!
She screamed and was running before she knew it.
She had not looked back! She had heeded the Keeper's warning! But out of the corner of her eye she had seen the second shadow right behind her own. It had been a trick of the light, hadn't it? Just dark streaks in the stone? Sticks ... the shadow of a tree maybe! But there were no trees.
She hurtled along the path with her hair flying and the air cold in her throat.
Cru-unch. Cru-unch. Something had changed in her footsteps. They did not sound the same. They seemed to echo off something right behind her.
At her heels.
Keeping pace. Cru-unch, cru-unch, cru-unch ... It was
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