Read Online Deltora Quest #5: Dread Mountain by Emily Rodda - Free Book Online
Authors: Emily Rodda
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huddled in their shelter, eating, resting, drinking from the stream that rushed by the cave’s opening, taking turnsto keep watch. By the time night fell again they were fretting about the delay. Lief’s arm and Prin’s paws were healing wonderfully, and they feared that the Vraal might be recovering just as quickly.
“Only if it has learned that the green moss heals,” Prin reminded them, nibbling a Boolong cone. “And I do not think that is likely. Vraal are clever only in fighting and killing, Mother says.”
At the mention of her mother her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard.
“It is very fortunate for us that you were with us when the Vraal came. But your mother, and the other Kin, must be worried about you, Prin,” said Lief after a moment.
“They know I am safe,” Prin said softly. “I am sure they visited us last night, in their dreams.”
She looked around. “And now it is night again. They could be here at this very moment. They would all fit, because, after all, it is only a dream.” She bent her head. “If they were here, I would tell them I was sorry for causing them pain,” she murmured. “And I would say I missed them very much.”
The others were silent. It was eerie to think that they might be surrounded by Kin spirits, yearning to speak to Prin, to touch her, but unable to do so. It was sad to realize that Prin was deliberately saying aloud the words she wanted her family to hear, just in case.
By the following morning, the wind had died and the storm had retreated, leaving steady, light rain in its place. The travellers decided that it was time to move on.
They began climbing through the rain in single file, following the swollen stream, alert for the sound of the gnomes above them and the Vraal below. The way was steep, slippery, and dangerous. Prin went first, doing the best she could to beat a safe path, but despite her best efforts the companions were soon covered in scratches.
After an hour or two of this miserable tramping, the rain stopped and a few weak rays of sun began to struggle through the clouds.
“That is something, at least,” muttered Barda. Then he jumped as Prin stopped suddenly in front of him and darted off the path.
“What is it?” whispered Jasmine from behind.
“I do not know!” Barda whispered back irritably. “Prin! What are you doing?”
Prin had disappeared into the trees and was thrashing around, breaking down branches with new energy and purpose. “Come and see!” she called softly to them, after a moment.
Unwillingly, shielding their faces from the thorns, they crept into the small, cleared area she had made. Then they stopped, staring.
Right in the center of the clearing was a small round stone hut roofed with bark. Two rusted metalspikes stood on either side of the low door, each crowned by a grinning skull. To the door itself was fixed a beaten metal shape.
“I am sure this is a gnome-rest,” Prin whispered. “The huts where gnomes shelter if they are caught out in storms. They are forbidden to strangers. That is what the sign means. But —”
She looked at them anxiously.
“But this has been abandoned for a very long time,” Barda reassured her. “You were right to uncover it.” He strode to the door and pulled at it. It sagged open and the companions went inside.
If they had hoped to find weapons, they were disappointed. The little building was festooned with webs and crawling with spiders and beetles. Otherwise it was empty except for a few mugs, some woven rugs which had almost rotted away, and a pile of what had probably once been food, but which was now black dust.
“It is strange,” murmured Prin, as they backed out again with relief. “Mother told me that in the old days there were gnome-rests scattered all over the Mountain, all of them linked by paths that crisscrossed everywhere. But this is the first gnome-rest we have seen, and it was completely overgrown by the trees.”
Lief looked around at the
“Only if it has learned that the green moss heals,” Prin reminded them, nibbling a Boolong cone. “And I do not think that is likely. Vraal are clever only in fighting and killing, Mother says.”
At the mention of her mother her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard.
“It is very fortunate for us that you were with us when the Vraal came. But your mother, and the other Kin, must be worried about you, Prin,” said Lief after a moment.
“They know I am safe,” Prin said softly. “I am sure they visited us last night, in their dreams.”
She looked around. “And now it is night again. They could be here at this very moment. They would all fit, because, after all, it is only a dream.” She bent her head. “If they were here, I would tell them I was sorry for causing them pain,” she murmured. “And I would say I missed them very much.”
The others were silent. It was eerie to think that they might be surrounded by Kin spirits, yearning to speak to Prin, to touch her, but unable to do so. It was sad to realize that Prin was deliberately saying aloud the words she wanted her family to hear, just in case.
By the following morning, the wind had died and the storm had retreated, leaving steady, light rain in its place. The travellers decided that it was time to move on.
They began climbing through the rain in single file, following the swollen stream, alert for the sound of the gnomes above them and the Vraal below. The way was steep, slippery, and dangerous. Prin went first, doing the best she could to beat a safe path, but despite her best efforts the companions were soon covered in scratches.
After an hour or two of this miserable tramping, the rain stopped and a few weak rays of sun began to struggle through the clouds.
“That is something, at least,” muttered Barda. Then he jumped as Prin stopped suddenly in front of him and darted off the path.
“What is it?” whispered Jasmine from behind.
“I do not know!” Barda whispered back irritably. “Prin! What are you doing?”
Prin had disappeared into the trees and was thrashing around, breaking down branches with new energy and purpose. “Come and see!” she called softly to them, after a moment.
Unwillingly, shielding their faces from the thorns, they crept into the small, cleared area she had made. Then they stopped, staring.
Right in the center of the clearing was a small round stone hut roofed with bark. Two rusted metalspikes stood on either side of the low door, each crowned by a grinning skull. To the door itself was fixed a beaten metal shape.
“I am sure this is a gnome-rest,” Prin whispered. “The huts where gnomes shelter if they are caught out in storms. They are forbidden to strangers. That is what the sign means. But —”
She looked at them anxiously.
“But this has been abandoned for a very long time,” Barda reassured her. “You were right to uncover it.” He strode to the door and pulled at it. It sagged open and the companions went inside.
If they had hoped to find weapons, they were disappointed. The little building was festooned with webs and crawling with spiders and beetles. Otherwise it was empty except for a few mugs, some woven rugs which had almost rotted away, and a pile of what had probably once been food, but which was now black dust.
“It is strange,” murmured Prin, as they backed out again with relief. “Mother told me that in the old days there were gnome-rests scattered all over the Mountain, all of them linked by paths that crisscrossed everywhere. But this is the first gnome-rest we have seen, and it was completely overgrown by the trees.”
Lief looked around at the
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