confined in clay pots like Weld trees, and their branches were not pruned to the proper size each year. They were wild trees, which had been allowed to grow and spread till they became monsters.
I am beyond the Wall , Rye thought. Cautiously he sat up, and the stick fell from his hand as he instinctively crossed his fingers and his wrists.
He could see great rocks that in Weld would be priceless treasure. He could see untidy drifts of overgrown bushes and the countless trunks of untamed trees. Fallen branches lay everywhere, the precious wood tangled with rampant vines, and covered in fungus, left to rot.
Dead leaves blanketed the ground. No one had raked them up to make compost that would help crops to grow. They just lay there, decaying where they had fallen, going to waste like the wood, feeding the monstrous trees.
There were no roads or paths. There were no signs giving directions or warning of dangers. Except for the rustling of the swaying treetops, there was no sound.
No sound of digging or hammering. No sound ofcart wheels rumbling. No voices calling, singing, or chattering. No bells.
No human sounds at all. But Rye had a growing sense of hostile life silently watching, waiting….
Abruptly he twisted to look behind him. His stomach turned over.
The golden Door was not there. The Wall of Weld was not there.
Nothing was there but more towering rocks, more straggling bushes, more trees.
Sweat broke out on Rye’s forehead. His legs tingled with the urge to leap up and run, run wildly, searching for the Door.
Panic kills , he seemed to hear Dirk whispering in his ear. I have seen it so often, on the Wall. When disaster strikes, workers who keep their heads have a far better chance of survival than those who do not.
Rye gritted his teeth and turned slowly away from the place where the Door should have been. Pressing his crossed wrists firmly against his chest, he forced himself to remain still, trying to fight down the fear.
He thought of the shining space he had glimpsed behind the golden Door just before he was pulled through it. Clearly, the Door was no ordinary door. It was a thing of ancient magic which did not obey the rules of the everyday world. Perhaps, for the safety of Weld, it delivered those who used it to a place well away from the Wall.
He was somewhere in the Fell Zone. He felt he could be sure of that. Perhaps it was because the place seemed so utterly barren of signs of human life. Perhaps it was because of the feeling of dread that was still making his skin crawl.
Rye pictured the map he had looked at every morning for so long. The Fell Zone was a band of land that encircled Weld. Just a narrow band. The giant trees hid the Door and the Wall from sight now, perhaps, but the trees could not go on forever. Once he was beyond them, the Wall, at least, would be clearly visible. Dirk would help him find the Door again. When he found Dirk … if he found Dirk …
His heart thudded sickeningly. Again panic rose in him.
Then his glazed eyes fell on the scruffy girl in red, lying not far from where he sat. His breath caught in his throat, and a sudden wave of relief surged through him. He had forgotten the girl — forgotten that he was not alone.
No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than relief was swamped by mingled irritation and shame. That girl is no friend of yours , he told himself angrily. You do not want her company!
But the fact was, just the sight of another human in this alien place had given him courage. He no longer felt the urge to run. Slowly he uncrossed his wrists, took hold of his stick, and stood up.
The girl was curled up on her side, her hands clasped under her chin. Her eyes were closed.
Perhaps she was injured. Rye felt a sharp stab of unease but instantly suppressed it. The girl was not his responsibility. She had forced him to bring her here. He could not, would not, allow her to interfere with his search for Dirk.
Still, he could not leave her lying
I am beyond the Wall , Rye thought. Cautiously he sat up, and the stick fell from his hand as he instinctively crossed his fingers and his wrists.
He could see great rocks that in Weld would be priceless treasure. He could see untidy drifts of overgrown bushes and the countless trunks of untamed trees. Fallen branches lay everywhere, the precious wood tangled with rampant vines, and covered in fungus, left to rot.
Dead leaves blanketed the ground. No one had raked them up to make compost that would help crops to grow. They just lay there, decaying where they had fallen, going to waste like the wood, feeding the monstrous trees.
There were no roads or paths. There were no signs giving directions or warning of dangers. Except for the rustling of the swaying treetops, there was no sound.
No sound of digging or hammering. No sound ofcart wheels rumbling. No voices calling, singing, or chattering. No bells.
No human sounds at all. But Rye had a growing sense of hostile life silently watching, waiting….
Abruptly he twisted to look behind him. His stomach turned over.
The golden Door was not there. The Wall of Weld was not there.
Nothing was there but more towering rocks, more straggling bushes, more trees.
Sweat broke out on Rye’s forehead. His legs tingled with the urge to leap up and run, run wildly, searching for the Door.
Panic kills , he seemed to hear Dirk whispering in his ear. I have seen it so often, on the Wall. When disaster strikes, workers who keep their heads have a far better chance of survival than those who do not.
Rye gritted his teeth and turned slowly away from the place where the Door should have been. Pressing his crossed wrists firmly against his chest, he forced himself to remain still, trying to fight down the fear.
He thought of the shining space he had glimpsed behind the golden Door just before he was pulled through it. Clearly, the Door was no ordinary door. It was a thing of ancient magic which did not obey the rules of the everyday world. Perhaps, for the safety of Weld, it delivered those who used it to a place well away from the Wall.
He was somewhere in the Fell Zone. He felt he could be sure of that. Perhaps it was because the place seemed so utterly barren of signs of human life. Perhaps it was because of the feeling of dread that was still making his skin crawl.
Rye pictured the map he had looked at every morning for so long. The Fell Zone was a band of land that encircled Weld. Just a narrow band. The giant trees hid the Door and the Wall from sight now, perhaps, but the trees could not go on forever. Once he was beyond them, the Wall, at least, would be clearly visible. Dirk would help him find the Door again. When he found Dirk … if he found Dirk …
His heart thudded sickeningly. Again panic rose in him.
Then his glazed eyes fell on the scruffy girl in red, lying not far from where he sat. His breath caught in his throat, and a sudden wave of relief surged through him. He had forgotten the girl — forgotten that he was not alone.
No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than relief was swamped by mingled irritation and shame. That girl is no friend of yours , he told himself angrily. You do not want her company!
But the fact was, just the sight of another human in this alien place had given him courage. He no longer felt the urge to run. Slowly he uncrossed his wrists, took hold of his stick, and stood up.
The girl was curled up on her side, her hands clasped under her chin. Her eyes were closed.
Perhaps she was injured. Rye felt a sharp stab of unease but instantly suppressed it. The girl was not his responsibility. She had forced him to bring her here. He could not, would not, allow her to interfere with his search for Dirk.
Still, he could not leave her lying
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