Nightpool by Shirley Rousseau Murphy Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shirley Rousseau Murphy
from the saddle onto the boulders
so you make no trail. Stay atop them along the ridge to the caves.
Here, we’ve fixed you a pack. Rope, knife and some cord, food,
candles and flint and a lamp. A waterskin.”
Teb climbed from the back of his horse up
the boulder, then reached down for the pack and waterskin and slung
them over his shoulder. Garit gave his hand a parting squeeze. He
stood watching as the riders turned away and faded into the night,
the sound of hooves growing quickly softer, then gone.
He turned and made his way alone toward
Nison-Serth.
He would be safe in Nison-Serth. He moved
toward it eagerly, feeling ahead of him in the darkness where, even
in the starlight, shadows could be chasms. Nison-Serth would
shelter him. He thought of his mother there, how she had loved its
beauty, and it seemed to him that something of his mother beckoned
to him now, a power of calm protection linked with the power of the
caves.
Clouds blew across the moon, so he had to go
more slowly in the dark and feel ahead carefully. He fingered the
pack and felt the reassuring hard curve of the candle lamp inside.
He longed to light it. He could imagine carrying the thick glass
chimney before him to show him the way and to warm his cold
hands.
But it would be a deadly beacon to draw
Sivich. Well, if he lost his way or the going got too rocky and
difficult, he would sleep among the boulders and go at first light,
before anyone could see him from below. He imagined the great stone
entrance of Nison-Serth, its rough triangular arch of pale stone,
and tried to guess how far ahead it was. It would be hard to miss.
He could picture the two standing boulders inside carved with the
ancient pictures of animals and birds.
Twice he heard a noise like something
slipping along behind him, and went cold with the thought of the
jackals.
But they were drugged; surely they were
drugged. He hurried ahead, scrambling and slipping. He had to climb
higher now, around a steep drop. He could not remember this part of
the cliffs near to Nison-Serth. He was tempted to light the
lantern, shield it with his pack. He climbed again, then found a
way down, afraid he would go too high and miss the entry. Just when
he thought he had missed it, there it was, towering before him in
the night, a pale vaulting arch pushing at the sky. He slipped
inside.
He stood staring into the darkness, touching
the carved boulders for reassurance; then he moved farther in, past
them, feeling out into the darkness. He was not afraid here. He
thought the caves welcomed him. He yawned, very sleepy suddenly. He
groped on in the darkness, feeling the walls and remembering the
curves, and the way he must go, knowing he could not light the
candle until he was well away from the portal.
Deeper in, there were two tunnels so narrow
and low that not even a jackal could get through. He hoped he still
could. He and Camery had explored there, with ropes tied around
their waists, so their parents could pull them out if they got
stuck. Camery had called one the crawling tunnel, because you could
go on hands and knees, and the other the wriggling tunnel, where
you went belly-down, pressed in by the stone. He did not look
forward to that, but it would stop any jackal.
Chapter 5
Teb knelt, found a candle in the pack by
feel and fitted it into the lamp, then struck flint. The cave walls
leaped and twisted around him in the flickering light. He clamped
on the glass chimney, then pushed deeper into the grotto. But at
the great cave he paused. He knew he must stop here, must see the
painted animals.
He shone his light in and saw them leap up
as if they had just sprung to life, the rearing black unicorn
seeming to paw and turn, the pale foxes to slip deeper into the
stone. Even in the paintings, the animals’ intelligence showed
clearly. The way they held themselves, their expressions, showed
they were quite aware of their places in time, in the world, and in
the scheme of life.
so you make no trail. Stay atop them along the ridge to the caves.
Here, we’ve fixed you a pack. Rope, knife and some cord, food,
candles and flint and a lamp. A waterskin.”
Teb climbed from the back of his horse up
the boulder, then reached down for the pack and waterskin and slung
them over his shoulder. Garit gave his hand a parting squeeze. He
stood watching as the riders turned away and faded into the night,
the sound of hooves growing quickly softer, then gone.
He turned and made his way alone toward
Nison-Serth.
He would be safe in Nison-Serth. He moved
toward it eagerly, feeling ahead of him in the darkness where, even
in the starlight, shadows could be chasms. Nison-Serth would
shelter him. He thought of his mother there, how she had loved its
beauty, and it seemed to him that something of his mother beckoned
to him now, a power of calm protection linked with the power of the
caves.
Clouds blew across the moon, so he had to go
more slowly in the dark and feel ahead carefully. He fingered the
pack and felt the reassuring hard curve of the candle lamp inside.
He longed to light it. He could imagine carrying the thick glass
chimney before him to show him the way and to warm his cold
hands.
But it would be a deadly beacon to draw
Sivich. Well, if he lost his way or the going got too rocky and
difficult, he would sleep among the boulders and go at first light,
before anyone could see him from below. He imagined the great stone
entrance of Nison-Serth, its rough triangular arch of pale stone,
and tried to guess how far ahead it was. It would be hard to miss.
He could picture the two standing boulders inside carved with the
ancient pictures of animals and birds.
Twice he heard a noise like something
slipping along behind him, and went cold with the thought of the
jackals.
But they were drugged; surely they were
drugged. He hurried ahead, scrambling and slipping. He had to climb
higher now, around a steep drop. He could not remember this part of
the cliffs near to Nison-Serth. He was tempted to light the
lantern, shield it with his pack. He climbed again, then found a
way down, afraid he would go too high and miss the entry. Just when
he thought he had missed it, there it was, towering before him in
the night, a pale vaulting arch pushing at the sky. He slipped
inside.
He stood staring into the darkness, touching
the carved boulders for reassurance; then he moved farther in, past
them, feeling out into the darkness. He was not afraid here. He
thought the caves welcomed him. He yawned, very sleepy suddenly. He
groped on in the darkness, feeling the walls and remembering the
curves, and the way he must go, knowing he could not light the
candle until he was well away from the portal.
Deeper in, there were two tunnels so narrow
and low that not even a jackal could get through. He hoped he still
could. He and Camery had explored there, with ropes tied around
their waists, so their parents could pull them out if they got
stuck. Camery had called one the crawling tunnel, because you could
go on hands and knees, and the other the wriggling tunnel, where
you went belly-down, pressed in by the stone. He did not look
forward to that, but it would stop any jackal.
Chapter 5
Teb knelt, found a candle in the pack by
feel and fitted it into the lamp, then struck flint. The cave walls
leaped and twisted around him in the flickering light. He clamped
on the glass chimney, then pushed deeper into the grotto. But at
the great cave he paused. He knew he must stop here, must see the
painted animals.
He shone his light in and saw them leap up
as if they had just sprung to life, the rearing black unicorn
seeming to paw and turn, the pale foxes to slip deeper into the
stone. Even in the paintings, the animals’ intelligence showed
clearly. The way they held themselves, their expressions, showed
they were quite aware of their places in time, in the world, and in
the scheme of life.