Read Online The Skull of the World by Kate Forsyth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Forsyth
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was so close. The sun was sinking toward the mountain peaks and so she drew Buba out of her sleeve, cupping her in her hands and rubbing her tufted ears.
"Will ye find me a holt, dearling?" she asked. The owl blinked her great golden eyes sleepily, rotated her head then stretched out her wings. With a soft hoot she took flight over the broad slope. The apprentice witch strapped on her little sleigh and began to skim gladly down the slope toward the river, the owl gliding ahead of her.
Isabeau sped so swiftly the wind roared in her ears and tears sprang to her eyes. She gave a little cry of exultation and leaped off a high mound of snow so she could spin in the air. It had been some days since she had last been able to skim so freely. She landed with a hiss of ice flying, spun again and did a great swooping curve. From the corner of her eyes she saw something move, something huge. Her heart lurched. With a jerk of her body she came to a halt and pulled back her hood, shading her eyes with one hand.
Far above her a frost giant was lumbering down the slope. Twelve feet tall, with a shaggy mane of hair and beard all stiff with blue ice crystals, he was dressed in a motley of white furs. Carrying a long ice spear in one hand, his eyes shone with a cold blue light. Each blundering step caused snow to slide down the slope with frightening speed. He shook his spear at her and bellowed, and cold fear shuddered in Isabeau's stomach. She took off, no longer swooping and swaying but fleeing straight down the middle of the slope. He leaped after her, gaining with every step, while a mass of snow raced ahead of him with a grinding, roaring noise as terrifying as his hoarse bellows.
There was a great whoosh. Isabeau ducked instinctively. The ice spear flashed past her, missing her by inches. It smashed into the hill before her, loosening another great chunk of snow. Isabeau swerved, her heart pounding sickeningly. She bent low, skimming as fast as she could, the ground rising and dropping below her. She risked a glance behind her. The avalanche was eating at her tracks, swallowing the sky.
Buba flew up into the air, calling to her desperately. Soar-hooh, the owl cried. Soar-hooh high-hooh.
Suddenly the world plunged away. The clamor of the avalanche rose up and engulfed her. Stars spun overhead. Although dusk had fallen, Isabeau could see clearly. The mass of snow was plunging down the mountain, drowning trees tiny as matches, sweeping out across the river and blanking its glimmer. The frost giant was swept away. Isabeau saw his agonized face disappear under the raging white torrent far, far below her. The world was tilting, a fiery rim of black mountains spanned by sweeping stars. The wind rocked under her like a river of cold fire. All was quiet. She was queen of the night, her wings binding the wind to her will, the stars streaming away behind her. She saw Buba glide before her, leading the way down into thick trees where the shadows gathered dark, but not too dark for her keen gaze to pierce. They came to rest on a branch.
I knezv-hooh you-hooh were Owl, Buba said complacently.
Instinctively Isabeau's talons flexed and gripped and she shuddered her wings. Her mind shrieked a denial. She stared at Buba, the bird's round eye as big as the sun. The owl blinked once or twice and shifted from claw to claw. Isabeau looked around rather wildly. The branch they were sitting on was as large as an oak tree. The tree was like a tower. She could hear every sigh and murmur of the wind among the pine needles like the melody of an orchestra. She ducked her head down into her feathers, terribly afraid.
Why are you-hooh a-swoon? Buba asked. We flew-hooh together through moon cool-hooh, soar-swooped together as owls should-hooh.
But I am not really an owl, Isabeau replied shakily. I do-hooh not know how to-hooh change back.
Why would you-hooh want to-hooh? Buba said.
I'm not an owl, I'm a girl-hoooooh, Isabeau wailed. If she had had tear ducts
"Will ye find me a holt, dearling?" she asked. The owl blinked her great golden eyes sleepily, rotated her head then stretched out her wings. With a soft hoot she took flight over the broad slope. The apprentice witch strapped on her little sleigh and began to skim gladly down the slope toward the river, the owl gliding ahead of her.
Isabeau sped so swiftly the wind roared in her ears and tears sprang to her eyes. She gave a little cry of exultation and leaped off a high mound of snow so she could spin in the air. It had been some days since she had last been able to skim so freely. She landed with a hiss of ice flying, spun again and did a great swooping curve. From the corner of her eyes she saw something move, something huge. Her heart lurched. With a jerk of her body she came to a halt and pulled back her hood, shading her eyes with one hand.
Far above her a frost giant was lumbering down the slope. Twelve feet tall, with a shaggy mane of hair and beard all stiff with blue ice crystals, he was dressed in a motley of white furs. Carrying a long ice spear in one hand, his eyes shone with a cold blue light. Each blundering step caused snow to slide down the slope with frightening speed. He shook his spear at her and bellowed, and cold fear shuddered in Isabeau's stomach. She took off, no longer swooping and swaying but fleeing straight down the middle of the slope. He leaped after her, gaining with every step, while a mass of snow raced ahead of him with a grinding, roaring noise as terrifying as his hoarse bellows.
There was a great whoosh. Isabeau ducked instinctively. The ice spear flashed past her, missing her by inches. It smashed into the hill before her, loosening another great chunk of snow. Isabeau swerved, her heart pounding sickeningly. She bent low, skimming as fast as she could, the ground rising and dropping below her. She risked a glance behind her. The avalanche was eating at her tracks, swallowing the sky.
Buba flew up into the air, calling to her desperately. Soar-hooh, the owl cried. Soar-hooh high-hooh.
Suddenly the world plunged away. The clamor of the avalanche rose up and engulfed her. Stars spun overhead. Although dusk had fallen, Isabeau could see clearly. The mass of snow was plunging down the mountain, drowning trees tiny as matches, sweeping out across the river and blanking its glimmer. The frost giant was swept away. Isabeau saw his agonized face disappear under the raging white torrent far, far below her. The world was tilting, a fiery rim of black mountains spanned by sweeping stars. The wind rocked under her like a river of cold fire. All was quiet. She was queen of the night, her wings binding the wind to her will, the stars streaming away behind her. She saw Buba glide before her, leading the way down into thick trees where the shadows gathered dark, but not too dark for her keen gaze to pierce. They came to rest on a branch.
I knezv-hooh you-hooh were Owl, Buba said complacently.
Instinctively Isabeau's talons flexed and gripped and she shuddered her wings. Her mind shrieked a denial. She stared at Buba, the bird's round eye as big as the sun. The owl blinked once or twice and shifted from claw to claw. Isabeau looked around rather wildly. The branch they were sitting on was as large as an oak tree. The tree was like a tower. She could hear every sigh and murmur of the wind among the pine needles like the melody of an orchestra. She ducked her head down into her feathers, terribly afraid.
Why are you-hooh a-swoon? Buba asked. We flew-hooh together through moon cool-hooh, soar-swooped together as owls should-hooh.
But I am not really an owl, Isabeau replied shakily. I do-hooh not know how to-hooh change back.
Why would you-hooh want to-hooh? Buba said.
I'm not an owl, I'm a girl-hoooooh, Isabeau wailed. If she had had tear ducts
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