Read Online The Eye of the Hunter by Dennis L. McKiernan - Free Book Online
Authors: Dennis L. McKiernan
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dogs, forcing them to drink, returning to fill more waterskins with fresh liquid, aided in this task by the Warrows.
Meanwhile, Aravan and Riatha busied themselves breaking camp, rolling up tightly the down-filled sleeping bags, packing away the supplies and utensils, bundling all.
With the dogs watered, the
Mygga
and
Fé
laded the sleds, while B’arr and Tchuka and Ruluk began hitching the teams to the tow line: the great power dogs in back, closest to the sleds, where their strength would best serve, the lighter and faster dogs fastened farther up the line, the swiftest in front, each team arranged as B’arr had said: “
Makt
in back,
hast
in front.”
Last to be hitched were the lead dogs—Shlee, Laska, and Garr—each sledmaster parading the dominant dog the length of the
span
.
At a nod from B’arr, Gwylly and Faeril settled into the sled basket and covered themselves with the warm furs. The sledmaster glanced back, seeing that the others were ready, too.
“Hypp!”
he barked, and the team surged, dogs leaping against their tug lines, lunging to get the sled in motion. Slowly it started, and then picked up speed, gliding across the frozen waste. Behind, Gwylly could hear the other sledmasters calling out
“Hypp!”
to their own teams.
And out into the vast wilderness they fared, the dogs trotting eagerly through the glancing light of the low-hung Moon, while stars yet shone dimly in the paling skies above and the Eye of the Hunter dipped beyond seeing over the rim of the world.
* * *
An hour they ran, the sledmasters calling out now and again
strak
or
venstre
or
høyre
to keep the team running straight or to swing left or right, and at last the Sun roselow in the southeast, riding a shallow angle up into the sky. Before them the Grimwall Mountains loomed in silhouette, dark and foreboding, black and grey stone rearing upward snow-covered for the most. Faeril and Gwylly looked at each other, while their hearts pounded a desperate tattoo.
“Fear not, love,” said Gwylly, his voice filled with a bravado that he did not feel. “Once we know it, this Grimwall, it’ll not be so sinister.”
Faeril turned about and faced the mountains once more, examining them, trying to see them for what they were, trying to gain knowledge and thereby master her fear.
Onward ran the dogs, slowly drawing closer to this place of danger, where Spawn were said to dwell.
* * *
In mid-morn they stopped to stretch their legs and rest the dogs, giving each animal more water. Too, they cared for other needs, relieving themselves as necessary. Shortly, however, they set off once more, running through cold sunlight, long shadows trailing behind.
And this was their pattern throughout the frigid day: the dogs trotting at a goodly clip, hauling sleds and passengers across the whiteness for an hour or two, then resting for long, airy minutes, while the sledmasters gave the team more water.
At one of the stops they took a meal of jerky and crue, but they did not stay longer than necessary, getting underway as soon as they could.
And all the while, the Grimwall loomed closer, rearing up into the sky.
* * *
They stopped at last in the shadow of the range, cast northeastward beyond seeing by the setting Sun, for B’arr would not run the dogs in the darkness, that time between the coming of the night and the rising of the Moon.
This time they camped in a small swale, a shallow hollow providing scant shelter from the chill air breathing down from the Grimwall. This night the dogs did not get a ration of salmon, for they were fed only every other day.
It was a cold camp and dark, but for the moonlight and starshine, there being nothing spare with which to make a fire. Oh, they had brought
ren møkk
with them, but it would be used to melt water on the morn, water for dog and Man and Elf and Warrow alike.
And once again the Eye of the Hunter rode the darktide up into the sky, its long glowing tail streaming out behind, while now and
Meanwhile, Aravan and Riatha busied themselves breaking camp, rolling up tightly the down-filled sleeping bags, packing away the supplies and utensils, bundling all.
With the dogs watered, the
Mygga
and
Fé
laded the sleds, while B’arr and Tchuka and Ruluk began hitching the teams to the tow line: the great power dogs in back, closest to the sleds, where their strength would best serve, the lighter and faster dogs fastened farther up the line, the swiftest in front, each team arranged as B’arr had said: “
Makt
in back,
hast
in front.”
Last to be hitched were the lead dogs—Shlee, Laska, and Garr—each sledmaster parading the dominant dog the length of the
span
.
At a nod from B’arr, Gwylly and Faeril settled into the sled basket and covered themselves with the warm furs. The sledmaster glanced back, seeing that the others were ready, too.
“Hypp!”
he barked, and the team surged, dogs leaping against their tug lines, lunging to get the sled in motion. Slowly it started, and then picked up speed, gliding across the frozen waste. Behind, Gwylly could hear the other sledmasters calling out
“Hypp!”
to their own teams.
And out into the vast wilderness they fared, the dogs trotting eagerly through the glancing light of the low-hung Moon, while stars yet shone dimly in the paling skies above and the Eye of the Hunter dipped beyond seeing over the rim of the world.
* * *
An hour they ran, the sledmasters calling out now and again
strak
or
venstre
or
høyre
to keep the team running straight or to swing left or right, and at last the Sun roselow in the southeast, riding a shallow angle up into the sky. Before them the Grimwall Mountains loomed in silhouette, dark and foreboding, black and grey stone rearing upward snow-covered for the most. Faeril and Gwylly looked at each other, while their hearts pounded a desperate tattoo.
“Fear not, love,” said Gwylly, his voice filled with a bravado that he did not feel. “Once we know it, this Grimwall, it’ll not be so sinister.”
Faeril turned about and faced the mountains once more, examining them, trying to see them for what they were, trying to gain knowledge and thereby master her fear.
Onward ran the dogs, slowly drawing closer to this place of danger, where Spawn were said to dwell.
* * *
In mid-morn they stopped to stretch their legs and rest the dogs, giving each animal more water. Too, they cared for other needs, relieving themselves as necessary. Shortly, however, they set off once more, running through cold sunlight, long shadows trailing behind.
And this was their pattern throughout the frigid day: the dogs trotting at a goodly clip, hauling sleds and passengers across the whiteness for an hour or two, then resting for long, airy minutes, while the sledmasters gave the team more water.
At one of the stops they took a meal of jerky and crue, but they did not stay longer than necessary, getting underway as soon as they could.
And all the while, the Grimwall loomed closer, rearing up into the sky.
* * *
They stopped at last in the shadow of the range, cast northeastward beyond seeing by the setting Sun, for B’arr would not run the dogs in the darkness, that time between the coming of the night and the rising of the Moon.
This time they camped in a small swale, a shallow hollow providing scant shelter from the chill air breathing down from the Grimwall. This night the dogs did not get a ration of salmon, for they were fed only every other day.
It was a cold camp and dark, but for the moonlight and starshine, there being nothing spare with which to make a fire. Oh, they had brought
ren møkk
with them, but it would be used to melt water on the morn, water for dog and Man and Elf and Warrow alike.
And once again the Eye of the Hunter rode the darktide up into the sky, its long glowing tail streaming out behind, while now and
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