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Authors: Steve Farley
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brilliant shafts of sunlight. The current grew faster still, funneling water through the passageway and spilling Alec out into the blinding daylight. His eyes tried to adjust to the light as he was swept along in the ripping current.
At last he saw that he was now caught midstream in a river little more than thirty feet across, narrow and deep, almost like a canal. Bordering the riverbanks, tall, thick trees stood shoulder to shoulder.
As Alec gathered his wits, again his thoughts were for his horse. Was he still alive? Surely he must be, but where? And what about Xeena? Had she gone back for help, or had she been swept into the underground river too? He could only hope she had been smart enough not to follow him across the stream and was able to get to safety when she had the chance.
But there was no question about the Black, Alec thought. He must be around here somewhere, unless he had been swept down a different tunnel. Alec couldn’t believe it. They had been only an arm’s length apart when they dropped down into that hole or whatever it had been. Surely the current would have carried them to the same place. But where was that? Again his gaze searched the shore on either side, and again he saw wall-to-wall trees with no sign of anything familiar, or even man-made.
Alec raised his head out of the water. “Black,” he called, his voice garbled and weak. He looked around him but could see no sign of his horse, only the monstrous tree trunks and the canopy of leaves above. He leaned back into the water and sidestroked along, edging toward the riverbank. Jolts of pain shot up his left leg as he kicked his feet. For the first time, Alec realized that he must have hit the bottom harder than he had thought.
The river hurried Alec downstream, curving around a bend. Using his good leg and cold, weary arms, he let the current carry him along until he reached the embankment at last. He caught hold of a tangled network of exposed roots beneath a tree trunk leaning over the river. With what seemed like all the strength he had left, Alec dragged himself out of the water and onto the bank. The ground here was allroots, thick and thin, layered on top of each other like a nest of snakes.
He coughed, gasped and cleared his mouth. He tried to speak, just to hear his own voice and confirm that he was indeed alive, but no words would come. He took a couple deep breaths and tried again, finally managing a low, guttural groan. Breathe, he told himself, just breathe. His eyes scanned the roiling water for the Black, but again he found no sign of his horse.
“Black,” Alec called out, but he was so weakened by the ordeal that the sound of his cry did not travel far. If he could just find a path through the woods, Alec thought. If he could just … He tried to get up and then collapsed out of exhaustion, falling unconscious to the ground.
The Far Side of the Mountain
Two hundred yards upstream, the Black scrambled out of the water and onto a pocket of grass tucked into the dense wall of trees lining the riverbank. The stallion dropped his head and stood still, thankful to feel the earth beneath his hooves once again, his breath coming hard and fast from his battle for life inside the mountain. Maddened by the hellish experience, he screamed an explosive neigh. His body was cut up, bruised and beaten by river rocks, and chilled to the bone by the cold water. And yet he was unafraid and did not feel tired or weakened. Sharpened by his fight for survival, his senses felt more acute than ever. He wanted to run, but, hemmed in by trees, he was unsure where to go. Of one thing the stallion was certain: He was in a strange new land, and instinct told him to beware.
His pains were quickly forgotten as he stared out to the woods and the peaks beyond, his small, finehead raised high, sniffing the air, his nostrils quivering, his ears pointed and alert. Warmed by the sun, his body began to tremble, not from cold but from excitement and
At last he saw that he was now caught midstream in a river little more than thirty feet across, narrow and deep, almost like a canal. Bordering the riverbanks, tall, thick trees stood shoulder to shoulder.
As Alec gathered his wits, again his thoughts were for his horse. Was he still alive? Surely he must be, but where? And what about Xeena? Had she gone back for help, or had she been swept into the underground river too? He could only hope she had been smart enough not to follow him across the stream and was able to get to safety when she had the chance.
But there was no question about the Black, Alec thought. He must be around here somewhere, unless he had been swept down a different tunnel. Alec couldn’t believe it. They had been only an arm’s length apart when they dropped down into that hole or whatever it had been. Surely the current would have carried them to the same place. But where was that? Again his gaze searched the shore on either side, and again he saw wall-to-wall trees with no sign of anything familiar, or even man-made.
Alec raised his head out of the water. “Black,” he called, his voice garbled and weak. He looked around him but could see no sign of his horse, only the monstrous tree trunks and the canopy of leaves above. He leaned back into the water and sidestroked along, edging toward the riverbank. Jolts of pain shot up his left leg as he kicked his feet. For the first time, Alec realized that he must have hit the bottom harder than he had thought.
The river hurried Alec downstream, curving around a bend. Using his good leg and cold, weary arms, he let the current carry him along until he reached the embankment at last. He caught hold of a tangled network of exposed roots beneath a tree trunk leaning over the river. With what seemed like all the strength he had left, Alec dragged himself out of the water and onto the bank. The ground here was allroots, thick and thin, layered on top of each other like a nest of snakes.
He coughed, gasped and cleared his mouth. He tried to speak, just to hear his own voice and confirm that he was indeed alive, but no words would come. He took a couple deep breaths and tried again, finally managing a low, guttural groan. Breathe, he told himself, just breathe. His eyes scanned the roiling water for the Black, but again he found no sign of his horse.
“Black,” Alec called out, but he was so weakened by the ordeal that the sound of his cry did not travel far. If he could just find a path through the woods, Alec thought. If he could just … He tried to get up and then collapsed out of exhaustion, falling unconscious to the ground.
The Far Side of the Mountain
Two hundred yards upstream, the Black scrambled out of the water and onto a pocket of grass tucked into the dense wall of trees lining the riverbank. The stallion dropped his head and stood still, thankful to feel the earth beneath his hooves once again, his breath coming hard and fast from his battle for life inside the mountain. Maddened by the hellish experience, he screamed an explosive neigh. His body was cut up, bruised and beaten by river rocks, and chilled to the bone by the cold water. And yet he was unafraid and did not feel tired or weakened. Sharpened by his fight for survival, his senses felt more acute than ever. He wanted to run, but, hemmed in by trees, he was unsure where to go. Of one thing the stallion was certain: He was in a strange new land, and instinct told him to beware.
His pains were quickly forgotten as he stared out to the woods and the peaks beyond, his small, finehead raised high, sniffing the air, his nostrils quivering, his ears pointed and alert. Warmed by the sun, his body began to tremble, not from cold but from excitement and
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