Colin looked back down at the fragments of wood and stone. “Maybe you’ll have to deal with it again. It isn’t clear here, but that’s the closest description I can give. You must prepare to deal with that desire as best you’re able.”
“Will we be successful in the end?” Dormas asked somberly.
“The runes don’t say. Finality of any kind is the hardest pattern to interpret. The runes lead to a place and time of ultimate confrontation, but that’s it. Beyond that point nothing is visible.” He started gathering up the runes and the corners of the pouch.
“O’ course, we don’t know ‘ow much o’ wot you’ve said is certain an’ ‘ow much a product o’ your fevered imagination, fuzzball.”
Colin glared at the otter but his expression quickly softened. “I could take that for an insult, pilgrim, but I won’t. Because it happens to be the truth. The reading felt unusually good here”—and he put one finger over his heart—”and here.” He moved it to his forehead. “Sometimes the casting is bad and I can sense it, but this one was as accurate as they come.” He glanced sideways at Jon-Tom. “I almost wish it were otherwise.”
“No, I’m glad you did the reading,” Jon-Tom told him thankfully. “I’d rather have some idea of what we’re up against, even if your description did border on the nebulous.”
Clothahump was peering through the pass ahead. “There is no point in putting off the inevitable. That is something that must always be coped with.”
The attacks commenced soon after they started through the far end of the pass. Landslides repeatedly threatened to trap and crush them in the narrow defile. Each time the boulders came crashing down toward them Clothahump raised his arms and bellowed a single powerful phrase. And each time the rocks were blasted to fragments.
“Not the ideal solution,” the wizard said, apologizing for the dust that soon covered all of them, “but I promise you a good cleansing spell as soon as we have done with this.”
Eventually there were no more landslides. Instead the clouds opened up and they were drenched with a misplaced tropical downpour. It washed away the rock dust but also threatened to wash them right back down the pass.
Again Clothahump went to work, raising his hands and grumbling about the amount of overtime he was having to put in at his age. The flood rushing down upon them was transformed into a vast cloud of warm steam. For ten minutes the pass was turned into a giant sauna. Finally the steam dissipated enough for them to proceed.
“Look at this,” Mudge complained, fingering one side of his vest. “ ‘Ow the ‘ell am I supposed to get these bloomin’ wrinkles out?”
“I am responsible for preserving your life, water rat,” Clothahump told him sharply, “not your appearance. It would do you well to be more attentive to the terrain ahead and less narcissistic.”
The otter regarded his filthy, damp fur and bedraggled attire. “As you say, Your Wizardship. I just ‘ope we don’t meet anyone I know.”
“That’s unlikely, pilgrim.” The koala put a paw on the back of Clothahump’s shell. “How you holding up, old-timer?”
“I am concerned with the simplicity of these attacks. There is little danger in any of them. That does not jibe with your reading.”
“Like I’ve said, there are plenty of times when I’m not too accurate. I thought this last one was right on the money, but I’m not going to complain if I overstated the threat.”
“You’re underrating yourself, sir,” Jon-Tom told him. “There aren’t many individuals for whom multiple landslides and mountain floods hold little danger. I guess whoever we’re up against doesn’t realize who he’s dealing with.”
“Perhaps not, my boy. Or he may be attempting to lull us into overconfidence. The insane can be exceedingly subtle. Still, you may be right. The sorcery we have had to deal with thus far is of a most mundane kind. If we run into nothing more complex, we shall have no difficulty in reaching our goal.”
“I can’t believe that Colin’s reading of the runes was that inaccurate.”
“Neither can I, man,” said the koala, “but there’s nothing wrong with hoping that I was.”
A voice shrilled down at them. Sorbl had returned from scouting a little way ahead. Now he circled low over his companions. “Just ahead, Master, friends! The pass reaches its end. Our destination is in sight!” He wheeled about, digging air, and glided out in front of them once more.
Increasing their pace, they puffed and panted the last few yards and finally found themselves looking down instead of up for the first time in weeks.
XII
Below lay a lovely little hanging valley, nestled between two towering peaks. The bottom was filled with a long blue lake. Evergreens lined both shores, though few rose higher than a dozen feet. The majority were gnarled and twisted, sure signs that powerful storms visited this valley frequently.
The tree line ended not far above the lake. A few isolated trees grew as much as halfway up the mountainside. Where they ceased to grow was sited the base of a monolithic, forbidding wall.
“The fortress of our enemy,” Donnas declared. “It has to be.”
Mudge squinted at it uncertainly. “That’s a fortress?”
Truly, Jon-Tom mused, it was a most unimpressive structure. The single outer wall was composed of plain rock loosely cemented together. What they could see of an inner roof was made of thatch instead of some sturdy roofing material like slate or tile. Portions of the wall were crumbling and in a sad state of disrepair. The winding pathway leading up to the wall from the lake was in worse shape still. It was not even paved.
“What we can see has not been in existence for very long,” Clothahump commented. They had started down toward the lake.
“How can that be?” Jon-Tom asked, confused. “It’s falling down.”
“In this instance that is not an indication of great age so much as it is of sloppy construction, my boy. It is poorly designed and ill built. Just like the series of attacks we had to deal with in the pass behind us. It indicates the presence of a lucky, haphazard opponent as opposed to a methodical and powerful one, although he may yet succeed in making lethal use of the perambulator’s twistings and turnings. We must remain on guard. Remember the runes.”
“I haven’t forgotten, sir.”
They walked along in silence for a while, each member of the party engrossed in his or her private thoughts. After a while Clothahump slid over until he was marching alongside Jon-Tom.
He finally gave the wizard a curious glance. “Something on your mind, Clothahump, sir?”
The sorcerer hesitated a moment, finally craned his neck to meet the tall young human eye to eye. “While I am confident, my boy, that we are dealing here with matters beyond the experience of most people, I cannot be certain of the outcome.”
“Neither can Colin, despite his runes.”
“Quite. Therefore, I mean to say a few things that perhaps should have been said before now.”
“I don’t follow you, sir.”
“What I am trying to say, my boy, is that I have been brisk with you at times. As brisk as with Sorbl on occasion. Sometimes it may seem to you from my tone, if not from my words, that I only make use of your talents and care nothing for you personally. This is untrue. I have grown—quite fond of you. I wanted you to know in case anything—happens.”
Surprised and overcome by this wholly unexpected confession, Jon-Tom could think of nothing to say.
“Bringing you to this world was an accident and insofar as blame can be ascribed to it, it falls upon my shell. Your appearance here in response to my desperate request for sorcerous aid was not well received. I was most displeased and disappointed.”
“I remember,” Jon-Tom said softly.
“Fate has a way of balancing the scales, however, and in your case, it has more than done so. Events have worked out better, 1 daresay, than either of us could have anticipated. Yet I fear I have been something less than a gracious host.” He raised a hand to forestall Jon-Tom’s protest. “No, let me finish. I am unused to personal expressions of humility, and if I do not finish now, I may never do so.