Dark of the Moon by Tracy Barrett Read Free Book Online Page B

believed. It's not impossible; after all, the temple in town is made of stones much larger than the one on the path, and they had to have gotten there somehow.
    I squeeze my eyes shut and remember the scene. The path is steep, and the rock lies at the bottom of an incline. Maybe he placed whatever he meant me to find on the ground, then climbed up on a ledge above it and pushed the rock on top of it. That would be difficult, but not impossible.
    Even if true, though, that theory won't help me. The boulder now sits firmly on the flat ground. Unless...
    I have a plan.

Chapter 8

    I AM UP and out of the house before Konnidas finds me a chore that will keep me from my task. The air is still chilly, especially as I draw close to the sea and the winds pick up, bringing a briny smell and the sounds of far-off gulls. Under a gray sky that is starting to turn pink, I test several flat rocks before finding one suited to my purposes, and then I set to work.
    The sun is high when I sit back and survey my efforts. I've dug a deep trench along the downhill edge of the boulder. My hands sting; they're already pretty well calloused, but even so, I've sprung a few new blisters with the unaccustomed work.
    If someone indeed tipped the huge rock off the ledge above me, surely not much of it is buried in the sandy ground. This means that with some effort I can, in turn, topple it over into the trench I've dug.
    I straighten my stiff legs and poke through the shrubbery until I find a long, stout branch. I plant myself on the uphill side of the boulder and work the end of the stick under it. I push down. Nothing. I press harder, finally leaning so much of my weight on the branch that I'm standing on tiptoe. The branch snaps and I fall backwards, my tunic flying up around my waist. I lie there to catch my breath, and suddenly I hear a giggle. I sit up hastily and pull my clothing down.
    Three girls are standing on the path. I know all of them, and I also know that I'm in for an uncomfortable time. For tormenting, girls are even worse than boys. I'd rather be punched in the face by the biggest of my enemies than have to listen to the taunts that girls seem capable of throwing from the moment they learn to speak.
    "What is he
doing?
" asks the smallest of them, a pale-faced little thing who I think is distantly related to me. My mother has so many brothers and sisters that I don't try to keep track of who is a cousin, who is married to a cousin, who lives with a cousin's family but isn't related, and all the rest of it.
    "Looking for buried treasure," offers an older girl, whose face is heavily marked with smallpox scars. She would be pretty but for that, with a graceful shape, large, dark eyes, and shiny black hair that hangs in braids almost to her waist.
    The third, a thick girl with a round face, snickers. "Going to dig himself a hole and hide in it. Then he won't have to worry about Arkas beating him up again." When she laughs, she looks like the Gorgon mask that hangs over the entrance to the temple in town, snaggleteeth and all.
    The other girls laugh with her. I stand, resigned to their torment. I'm gratified to see that they shrink back as I rise to my feet, but then, to show that they aren't afraid of me, the two bigger ones straighten. I pretend not to notice them as I search in the brush for a stouter stick.
    I find a likely looking pine branch and swing it experimentally over my head. Now the girls scatter, skimming down the path and out of sight. I hear the rattle of loose gravel, then a thud, then an "Ow!" One of them must have fallen. Since they will never know that I took notice of them, I allow myself a grin of satisfaction.
    I don't dare to deepen my trench. If I dig too deep, the rock might tip over while I'm in front of it, landing on top of me. Nobody would find me for hours, and when they did, they wouldn't be able to move the boulder any more than I can now. If I survived the impact, that is. Instead, I concentrate on working