The Neverending Story by Michael Ende Read Free Book Online Page A

away, far, far away. No one knows if we shall ever come back!”
    The horse nodded his head and gave a brief snort.
    “Yes, master,” he said. “But what about your hunt?”
    “We’re going on a much greater hunt,” said Atreyu, swinging himself into the saddle.
    “Wait, master,” said the horse. “You’ve forgotten your weapons. Are you going without your bow and arrow?”
    “Yes, Artax,” said Atreyu. “I have to go unarmed because I am bearing the Gem.”
    “Humph!” snorted the horse. “And where are we going?”
    “Wherever you like, Artax,” said Atreyu. “From this moment on we shall be on the Great Quest.”
    With that they galloped away and were swallowed up by the darkness.
    At the same time, in a different part of Fantastica, something happened which went completely unnoticed. Neither Atreyu nor Artax had the slightest inkling of it.
    On a remote night-black heath the darkness condensed into a great shadowy form.
    It became so dense that even in that moonless, starless night it came to look like a big black body. Its outlines were still unclear, but it stood on four legs and green fire glowed in the eyes of its huge shaggy head. It lifted up its great snout and stood for a long while, sniffing the air. Then suddenly it seemed to find the scent it was looking for, and a deep, triumphant growl issued from its throat.
    And off it ran through the starless night, in long, soundless leaps.
    The clock in the belfry struck eleven. From the downstairs corridors arose the shouts of children running out to the playground.
    Bastian was still squatting cross-legged on the mats. His legs had fallen asleep. He wasn’t an Indian after all. He stood up, took his sandwich and an apple out of his satchel, and paced the floor. He had pins and needles in his feet, which took some time to wake up.
    Then he climbed onto the horse and straddled it. He imagined he was Atreyu galloping through the night on Artax’s back. He leaned forward and rested his head on his horse’s neck.
    “Gee!” he cried. “Run, Artax! Gee! Gee!”
    Then he became frightened. It had been foolish of him to shout so loud. What if someone had heard him? He waited awhile and listened. But all he heard was the intermingled shouts from the yard.
    Feeling rather foolish, he climbed down off the horse. Really, he was behaving like a small child!
    He unwrapped his sandwich and shined the apple on his trousers. But just as he was biting into it, he stopped himself.
    “No,” he said to himself aloud. “I must carefully apportion my provisions. Who knows how long they will have to last me.”
    With a heavy heart he rewrapped his sandwich and returned it to his satchel along with the apple. Then with a sigh he settled down on the mats and reached for the book.



  airon, the old black centaur, sank back on his bed of furs as Artax’s hoofbeats were dying away. After so much exertion he was at the end of his strength. The women who found him next day in Atreyu’s tent feared for his life. And when the hunters came home a few days later, he was hardly any better, but he managed nevertheless to tell them why Atreyu had ridden away and would not be back soon. As they were all fond of the boy, their concern for him made them grave. Still, they were proud that the Childlike Empress had chosen him for the Great Quest—though none claimed to understand her choice.
    Old Cairon never went back to the Ivory Tower. But he didn’t die and he didn’t stay with the Greenskins in the Grassy Ocean. His destiny was to lead him over very different and unexpected pathways. But that is another story and shall be told another time.
    That same night Atreyu rode to the foot of the Silver Mountains. It was almost morning when he finally stopped to rest. Artax grazed a while and drank water from a small mountain stream. Atreyu wrapped himself in his red cloak and slept a few hours.
    But when the sun rose, they were already on their way.
    On the first day they crossed