For the next three days they journeyed eastward along the course of the river. On the south side of the stream where they walked the landscape was nearly unchanging, an endless series of undulating hills covered with grass and brush and copses of trees where they often found patches of the plant with the sweet root. Whenever they walked along the very top of the ridge, Aram could see the same green country as always rolling seemingly without end into the south, a pleasant aspect. Often as he gazed southward over the lush hills and hollows, he considered finding a small valley with a clear spring and enough trees to construct a dwelling and settling down to cultivate the root plants that had kept them alive.
In the end—somewhere ahead—they might do exactly that, but for now the anxiety of possible capture remained with him even though there was no evidence that they were being chased. Aram was determined to put a large mass of the wild country between him and his old life so he kept them going resolutely toward the east.
Across the river to the north, the land grew increasingly wild. The crumbled walls of the canyon on that side grew higher and the region above the canyon rim began to angle severely toward the north. They had progressed far enough to the east to be beyond the influence of the long gentle slope he had gazed upon so many times from the confines of the field and had passed the region of jumbled foothills that had once seemed so far away. The huge black mass of the mountain was now almost due north. Wherever the river touched the slopes on its northern bank it tended to carve great amphitheaters out of the steep walls, exposing black rock streaked with shades of deep red.
There were long dark ravines that cut back into the lower flanks of the mountain and these were full of evergreens, tightly packed. The upper ramparts of the mountain were so high and so far away that his eye could resolve very little of their rocky detail. One day when the sun was near its zenith, they rested for a while on a large flat rock and ate some of the sweet root. The great mountain was exactly opposite their position and Aram gazed up at the immense spires of rock and the deep, dark canyons that cut into its sides. It looked like a giant black pyramid with vicious wounds in its flanks. Forests of trees blanketed its lower regions, so thick and dark that they seemed to swallow the sunlight that fell on them, holding its power hostage.
Decius was watching him. “Surely you don’t want to go over there?”
Aram laughed. “Why not, it looks wild enough. I’ll bet you that if we could get into those deep forests we’d be hard to find. Probably find someplace defensible, too, where we could construct a fortress.” Then he looked away toward the east and got to his feet. “But no, I think we’ll keep going straight ahead up the canyon.”
Over the next two days the mountain fell behind them to the west and vistas of a wide country began to open up beyond it. On the eastern side of the dark mountain, north of the river, there was a broad open land, green and gentle with stands of trees beyond which, at a great distance, rose the gray, snow-covered peaks of more high mountains.
In Aram there grew a desire to enter this region, to put the bulk of the great mountain firmly between him and the world of his former existence. But that meant that they would have to cross the river and at the moment this appeared to be a difficult prospect. The canyon wall on the other side was rough and steep with sharp outcroppings of rock. The river seemed to prefer to run near that far bank, grinding away at the ancient rock while it spared the gentler country on its southern shore.
But the southern country where Aram and Decius walked was becoming rougher as well, and higher. The gentle rolling hills were giving way to steeper, rockier terrain. Most of the trees now were conifers, pine and fir; there were few broad-leafed trees, and the rooted plant that had been their mainstay was becoming scarcer. They often found it necessary to ration their supplies of the root. With the lessening of their anxiety about capture, Decius often grumbled about having bypassed the green southern hills for this rough wilderness.
Several times Aram also considered returning along his steps and finding his way into the rolling hill country to the south but could not bring himself to do so. The wide land to the north was calling him like a siren. Despite the rising frequency and volume of Decius’ complaints, he continued resolutely eastward along the south bank of the river but he moved down the slope and traveled near the water for he was actively seeking a way across now.
The great mountain had begun to recede to the west. From the depths of the canyon, its lower slopes were hidden by the heights of the cliffs on the far side but he could still look up and see its highest ramparts towering into the sky. Aram could not help but think that its enormous, rocky mass would make a fine, formidable barrier between the life he’d been born into and the new life of freedom he intended to forge in the wilderness.
Toward evening of the ninth day since their escape, they found a large patch of the plant Decius had named sweetroot and they filled all their pockets. Aram decided to try and discover a flat spot to pass the night. They would continue searching for a place to cross the river on the morrow. He wound up and down the steep rocky slopes and finally came upon an overhanging rock that formed a wide and fairly deep cave, with a flat dirt floor.
He was about to enter and find a place away from the mouth where they could spend the night when the sickening odor of rotted flesh rolled out of the cave and overwhelmed him. It was then that he saw the bones, hundreds of them, scattered about on the floor inside the cave. Some of the bones still had bits of flesh attached but they had all been thoroughly gnawed by sharp teeth. In his shocked mind he saw an image of wild, savage lashers, killing men and consuming them like rats. He was horrified by the imagery and terrified by the reality of the gnawed bones, and he stumbled backward into Decius, nearly causing both of them to fall down the slope into the river.
“What lives in there?” Decius gasped, stupefied with fear as he stared into the darkness with rounded eyes.
Aram spun and grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away down the slope. “It doesn’t matter, Decius, we’ve got to get away from here.”
Whatever foul thing or things lived in the cave, it was no place for two tired and unarmed men. Quickly he moved down the slope toward the water, intending now to cross the river before night even if they had to swim. But it was a plan that was not only desperate but was impossible to execute. The river was narrow but deep and running very fast, and the other bank was made of perpendicular rock that rose straight out of the river with no purchase for their hands and feet. Even if they were able to get across the quick water and extract themselves from the current they could go nowhere.
For as far as Aram could see in either direction, the opposing canyon walls were vertical for a hundred feet or more above the level of the water. He stared upstream in the failing light for signs of something better but saw nothing. But he knew that they had to get away from the cave. Whatever used it was absent for the moment but would undoubtedly return, the fresh nature of some of the bones signified as much. Aram intended to be as far away from the cave as possible when that occurred.
As long as the light held, they followed the river upstream, hoping to find a passage across. Finally, when it was almost fully dark Aram realized that they had to give up the quest or risk an accidental plunge into the dark, dangerous current. He moved away from the river’s edge and searched the ground above for a suitable place to rest and, if possible, to hide. He found an overhanging rock a little way up a watercourse and the two men curled up beneath it. But neither of them could sleep.
Decius was gazing out into the menacing darkness. “W-what do you think lives in that cave up there, Aram?”
Aram’s mind was full of images of monsters, killing and tearing at the flesh of their victims. He slowly realized that the denizens of the cave up the hill were probably not lashers but that realization brought with it its own brand of terror. What other loathsome beasts inhabited these hills?
He knew that Decius needed an answer of some kind or his terror might s
piral out of control, endangering them both. “All I know is that it’s something we don’t want to tangle with, Decius. Don’t worry, it’s not there now and we’ll get away from it across the river first thing in the morning—put the water between it and us. Now, try to rest, my friend.”
He thought he knew now why the deer trail had turned south so far back down the ridge. The more he thought about it the more he believed that the bones inside the cave were those of deer. But something big enough to slay a deer could also kill a man, especially an unarmed man. As the night closed in, he prayed that he and Decius would remain undiscovered until they could put the power of the river’s current between them and whatever it was that lived in the cave and prowled these hills.
They spent a fitful, frightening night and Aram was pleased when toward morning it began to rain. It was not a downpour like that from a severe storm, but it was steady. It would grant them some cover as they looked for a place to cross the river and enter the country beyond. As soon as there was enough light to enable them to see the far bank, the men went back to the river’s edge and continued looking for a way across.
The steady rain continued all morning and as the search for a crossing remained fruitless, added a new dimension to their worries. If it continued to rain and if the storm was widespread over the region drained by the river, they would once again have to deal with a river in flood and that might prevent them from crossing even if they found a place where crossing was possible. Aram moved upstream as quickly as he dared across the slick rock, anxious to find a place to put the river between them and the things that used the cave.
Then they had a bit of luck. There was a place where the canyon widened a bit and a substantial stream bounded down from the southern heights to join its strength to the river. The river curved away just a little from the far shore and flattened out into a series of shallow rapids as it crossed a gravel bar at the bottom of a long pool. The water level was higher than normal due to the constant rain but it appeared manageable nonetheless.
Aram studied the wall of the canyon opposite. There was a flume in that sheer wall where the rock had crumbled away under the influence of a small stream and it looked as if they might be able to climb up through it and access the top of the ridge beyond. He was seized by the firm conviction that this was their chance—and that it had to be taken. The rain was still coming down steadily so there was no time to lose.
Aram grasped Decius by the forearm and waded into the water. “Stay right with me, Decius, on the upstream side and lean into the current. If it doesn’t get too deep and we hang together, we can use our combined strength to keep from being washed away. Hold strong onto my arm.”
Decius, who’d been in a state of mute terror since finding the cave, didn’t answer but simply grabbed onto Aram’s arm and followed him into the water.
The force of the river was strong but the water level rose only to Aram’s shins for the first several feet. He took care to remain slightly on the upstream side of the gravel bar. Thankfully the bar was broad and firm. Only at the very center of the river where the current rose up to about the middle of Aram’s thigh did they have to struggle, both men leaning hard into the current and for a while it was a doubtful thing.
Thirty or forty feet downstream below the gravel bar, the river narrowed into a series of more powerful rapids and then plunged into a deep hole at the base of the canyon wall. If they lost the fight against the current and were swept into those rapids it would result in a struggle for life and it would be a struggle that they probably could not win.
But then they were through the deepest, swiftest part, and in another ten minutes were wading ashore on the far bank. Immediately Aram made for the cliff in order to find a way to the heights.
The north side of the canyon was almost perpendicular and the flume turned out to be so nearly vertical and so slick from the rain that it was impassable. Distressed, Aram turned upstream. There was about a quarter-mile of canyon wall between the place where they’d crossed and the point upstream where the river curved back. They had to find a way up to the ridge top somewhere along that short strip of sheer rock. If they were unsuccessful, they would have to fight their way back across the current and continue up the eastern side. Aram dreaded that possibility; he feared both the rising strength of the river and the presence of unknown predators on the south shore. But then, at last, he thought he saw a way up.
In one place a little further along; there was a fluted chimney in the canyon wall leading up toward the top. It was narrow and water splashed and tumbled down through it, but the sides were rough and broken with natural hand and foot holds. It would require skills they might not possess to climb up through the chimney but they had to try. Aram stepped into the semi-circular indentation in the cliff and began to examine the walls for the best route upward. Just then there was a strange noise behind them. Decius turned to look and let out a small sound of raw fear. Glancing back toward the river, Aram felt his blood freeze.
The predators had tracked them.
There was a flurry of movement on the far bank where they’d stood just a few minutes before. Huge rangy beasts with straggly black hair and enormous heads with mouths that flashed sharp, yellow-white teeth were sniffing around in the grass at the water’s edge. Though he’d never seen their kind before, Aram knew instinctively what they were.
Wolves. Nine or ten of them.
Into his mind rang the words of the lasher—they will gnaw on your bones while you yet live. One of the beasts snapped at another that got too near and Aram had a terrifyingly clear glimpse of the long sharp teeth.
Fear gripped him and he grabbed Decius and tried to force him up into the chimney. It was a mistake. In his hurry he dislodged chunks of stone that clamored down the side of the rock and made the wolves look up. They saw the two men. Howling and snapping they plunged into the deeper, slower water above the rapids and began swimming toward them.
With an effort driven by terror, Aram pushed Decius up the rough side of the chimney but Decius, panic-stricken, fought away from him and turned to flee up the bank of the river. Aram grabbed at his shirt.
“No, Decius! We have to climb—you can’t outrun them. We have to go up.”
Wild-eyed, Decius turned on him and drove his fist into Aram’s face, dislodging the hold Aram had on his shirt and knocking him to the ground. Howling in terror, the stocky little man took off running along the riverbank away from the wolves.
Aram leapt to his feet, intent on giving chase to his fear-crazed friend but the eager yelps from the wolves made him hesitate and look toward them. The lead wolf was almost across and its eyes were fixed hungrily on Aram. If he went after Decius, they would both die. Probably, he suddenly realized, they were both going to die anyway.
He turned and jumped into the chimney and scrambled recklessly up the rough passage, trying desperately to get above the reach of the wolves. He climbed like a madman and when he was no more than twenty feet off the ground, he heard snarling and the snapping of teeth immediately below. He glanced down. A wolf was climbing the rock.
Gripping the protrusions in the sides of the chimney with long sharp claws, the wolf was climbing at least as fast as he was. With stark fear crashing over him in waves, Aram willed his arms and legs to even greater effort as he pulled himself toward the top, tearing his flesh as he scrabbled at the rough stone.
Just then, from down on the river, there came a long, terrible scream that rose to a sickening pitch and then, abruptly, was cut off. The rest of the pack had caught Decius.
Aram felt instant, violent nausea at the thought of what had happened to his friend, but he had no time to grieve. He knew that he had to put all his effort into climbing or the next scream that echoed in the dark canyon would be ripped with vicious teeth from his own throat.
Finally, his hands found the end of the chimney and he reached out and pulled himself up onto the top of the ridge. But there a new and frightening apparition confronted him. S
tanding before him was the cloaked and hooded figure of a very tall man, his right arm extended, pointing firmly to Aram’s left back down the river. A voice exploded inside Aram’s head, potent and commanding.
Run. That way.
No sound was uttered by the figure; the voice seemed to come from the depths of Aram’s own mind. As he stood dumbfounded, the voice came again, sharp and urgent.
They will kill you. Run. That way.
The figure’s arm pointed resolutely to Aram’s left, back to the west along the ridge he’d just climbed. Numb with fear, unable to think for himself, he complied. As he ran he glanced to his left toward the river crossing and saw that the entire wolf pack was climbing the cliff. One by one they were bounding into the rough hollow of the rock chimney. Those waiting to ascend howled at him and showed their glistening teeth. Stark fear took him and drove him on.
He saw nothing of the surrounding countryside he’d so longed to explore. He was, in fact, still separated from the broad land that lay to the east of the mountain by yet another deep canyon running parallel to the one out of which he’d just climbed. He ran with desperate speed back to the west, down the narrow top of the ridge, frantically scanning the ground ahead for whatever refuge the unnatural, ghostly figure had directed him toward. He saw nothing to his front but the ridge top growing narrower and narrower and the black mass of the mountainside growing nearer.
On his right, at the bottom of the parallel northern canyon was another fast-moving river, also running to the west. There was now water on either side of him. To his left as he ran westward was the river he’d followed for days and had just crossed. On his right ran another larger river in the same direction. The rain was falling harder and both rivers were flooding. And the path of his flight along the top of the ridge was growing ever narrower even as the mountainside came nearer. Now he could hear the wolves behind him; they’d reached the top of the ridge and were giving chase.
Kelven's Riddle: The Mountain at the Middle of the World Page 6
