Read Online A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeleine L'Engle - Free Book Online
Authors: Madeleine L'Engle
Ads: Link
Gaudior’s mane, his fingers clenching the silver strands as theEchthroid wind tried to drag him from the unicorn’s back. The stench was so abominable that it would have made him loosen his grasp had not the pungent scent of Gaudior’s living flesh saved him as he pressed his face against the silver hide, breathing the strangeness of unicorn sweat. Gaudior’s bright wings beat painfully against invisible wings of darkness beating at them. The unicorn neighed in anguish, his clear tones lost in the howling of the tempest.
Suddenly his hoofs struck against something solid. He whinnied with anxiety. “Hold on tightly, don’t let go,” he warned. “We’ve been blown into a Projection.”
Charles Wallace could hardly be clutching the mane with more intensity. “A what?”
“We’ve been blown into a Projection, a possible future, a future the Echthroi want to make real.” His breath came in gasping gulps; his flanks heaved wildly under Charles Wallace’s legs.
The boy shivered as he remembered those darkly flailing wings and the nauseous odor. Whatever the Echthroi wanted to make real would be something fearful.
They were on a flat plain of what appeared to be solidified lava, although it had a faint luminosity alien to lava. The sky was covered with flickering pink cloud. The air was acrid, making them cough. The heat was intense and he was perspiring profusely under the light anorak, which held in the heat like a furnace.
“Where are we?” he asked, wanting Gaudior to tell him that they were not in his own Where, that this could not possibly be the place of the star-watching rock, of the woods, only a few minutes’ walk from the house.
Gaudior’s words trembled with concern. “We’re still here, in your own Where, although it is not yet a real When.”
“Will it be?”
“It is one of the Projections we have been sent to try to prevent. The Echthroi will do everything in their power to make it real.”
A shudder shook the boy’s slight frame as he looked around the devastated landscape. “Gaudior—what do we do now?”
“Nothing. You mustn’t loosen your hold on my mane. They want us to do something, and anything we do might be what they need to make this Projection real.”
“Can’t we get away?”
The unicorn’s ears flicked nervously. “It’s very difficult to find a wind to ride when one has been blown into a Projection.”
“But what do we do?”
“There is nothing to do but wait.”
“Is anybody left alive?”
“I don’t know.”
Around them a sulfurous wind began to rise. Both boyand unicorn were convulsed with paroxysms of coughing, but Charles Wallace did not loosen his grasp. When the seizure was over, he dried his streaming eyes on the silver mane.
When he looked up again, his heart lurched with horror. Waddling toward them over the petrified earth was a monstrous creature with a great blotched body, short stumps for legs, and long arms, with the hands brushing the ground. What was left of the face was scabrous and suppurating. It looked at the unicorn with its one eye, turned its head as though calling behind it to someone or something, and hurried toward them as fast as its stumps would take it.
“Oh, Heavenly Powers, save us!” Gaudior’s neigh streaked silver.
The anguished cry called Charles Wallace back to himself. He cried,
“With Gaudior in this fateful hour
I call on all Heaven with its power
And the sun with its brightness,
And the snow with its whiteness …”
He took a deep breath and hot air seared his lungs and again he was assailed by an unquellable fit of coughing. He buried his face in the unicorn’s mane and tried to control the spasm which shook him. It was notuntil the racking had nearly passed that he became aware of something cool brushing his burning face.
He raised his eyes and with awed gratitude he saw snow, pure white snow drifting down from the tortured sky, covering the ruined earth. The monster had stopped its ponderous
Suddenly his hoofs struck against something solid. He whinnied with anxiety. “Hold on tightly, don’t let go,” he warned. “We’ve been blown into a Projection.”
Charles Wallace could hardly be clutching the mane with more intensity. “A what?”
“We’ve been blown into a Projection, a possible future, a future the Echthroi want to make real.” His breath came in gasping gulps; his flanks heaved wildly under Charles Wallace’s legs.
The boy shivered as he remembered those darkly flailing wings and the nauseous odor. Whatever the Echthroi wanted to make real would be something fearful.
They were on a flat plain of what appeared to be solidified lava, although it had a faint luminosity alien to lava. The sky was covered with flickering pink cloud. The air was acrid, making them cough. The heat was intense and he was perspiring profusely under the light anorak, which held in the heat like a furnace.
“Where are we?” he asked, wanting Gaudior to tell him that they were not in his own Where, that this could not possibly be the place of the star-watching rock, of the woods, only a few minutes’ walk from the house.
Gaudior’s words trembled with concern. “We’re still here, in your own Where, although it is not yet a real When.”
“Will it be?”
“It is one of the Projections we have been sent to try to prevent. The Echthroi will do everything in their power to make it real.”
A shudder shook the boy’s slight frame as he looked around the devastated landscape. “Gaudior—what do we do now?”
“Nothing. You mustn’t loosen your hold on my mane. They want us to do something, and anything we do might be what they need to make this Projection real.”
“Can’t we get away?”
The unicorn’s ears flicked nervously. “It’s very difficult to find a wind to ride when one has been blown into a Projection.”
“But what do we do?”
“There is nothing to do but wait.”
“Is anybody left alive?”
“I don’t know.”
Around them a sulfurous wind began to rise. Both boyand unicorn were convulsed with paroxysms of coughing, but Charles Wallace did not loosen his grasp. When the seizure was over, he dried his streaming eyes on the silver mane.
When he looked up again, his heart lurched with horror. Waddling toward them over the petrified earth was a monstrous creature with a great blotched body, short stumps for legs, and long arms, with the hands brushing the ground. What was left of the face was scabrous and suppurating. It looked at the unicorn with its one eye, turned its head as though calling behind it to someone or something, and hurried toward them as fast as its stumps would take it.
“Oh, Heavenly Powers, save us!” Gaudior’s neigh streaked silver.
The anguished cry called Charles Wallace back to himself. He cried,
“With Gaudior in this fateful hour
I call on all Heaven with its power
And the sun with its brightness,
And the snow with its whiteness …”
He took a deep breath and hot air seared his lungs and again he was assailed by an unquellable fit of coughing. He buried his face in the unicorn’s mane and tried to control the spasm which shook him. It was notuntil the racking had nearly passed that he became aware of something cool brushing his burning face.
He raised his eyes and with awed gratitude he saw snow, pure white snow drifting down from the tortured sky, covering the ruined earth. The monster had stopped its ponderous
Similar Books
