Read Online Valorian by Mary H. Herbert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary H. Herbert
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a sliding stop.
Before them, the path continued on through a giant cavern, except now it was no more than a narrow ledge that wound along the wal on the left side of the cavern. About twenty feet directly below the trail was a wide, slow-flowing river of lava that was moving downward toward the center of the mountain. Valorian had never seen molten rock before, and' its heat and ponderous, deadly current staggered him. He didn't need an explanation to know that it would be agony to fall into that river of liquid stone.
On the other hand, he and Hunnul couldn't stand around and wait for the gorthlings to catch them.
They had to keep going. Swiftly Valorian dismounted and, after a few reassuring words to his horse, led Hunnul onto the thin, crumbling ledge.
The trail was barely wide enough for the big horse. Hunnul had to pick his way very carefully along the cracked and cluttered ledge with his barrel rubbing along the stone wall and his hooves bare inches from the drop--off. He nickered nervously, and Valorian reached back to rub his nose.
It was that movement that saved the clansman from the torment of the lava, for just as Valorian turned to comfort his horse, a blob of molten rock splattered against the wall by his head.
Valorian instinctively spun to face the danger. There, running along the surface of the lava river, were five gorthlings. They didn't seem to be bothered by the heat or the fluidity of the lava but ran over the surface as if it were solid ground. One scooped up a handful of the stuff and lobbed it toward the path above.
At that moment, the pursuing group of about fifteen or twenty gorthlings emerged from the tunnel. They whooped with glee when they saw the man and the horse on the ledge and the gorthling reinforcements on the river. With incredible agility, they scampered like wizened monkeys along the trail after their quarry.
"You can run, nag-rider," the gorthlings on the river cal ed rudely, "but you haven't got much farther you can go!"
"Let's see you jump, you useless heap of guts," one of the gorthlings on the ledge taunted. It flung a rock at Valorian to punctuate his point. The rest of the creatures fol owed suit, hurling a tormenting rain of stones, lava blobs, and insults.
Valorian and Hunnul frantically forced their way along the trail in an effort to escape the merciless barrage. They had only taken a few steps when two rocks struck Hunnul on the rump, and at the same time a handful of lava splattered around Valorian's legs. The clansman cried out and tried to shake the burning blobs from his leggings. The molten rock didn't actual y burn his skin, but the pain was there as real and terrible as in life. The stallion squealed, leaped forward, and nearly plowed the man off the ledge.
Valorian, clenching his teeth to ward off the pain, held on to Hunnul's mane with every ounce of his strength. Panic rose like bile in his throat. He tried to think through the jumble of pain and fear in his mind. He had to do something fast before one or both of them fell off the ledge into the lava or were overwhelmed by the gorthlings. What he needed was a shield, or better yet, a shelter. Then, like a little spark, a coherent thought clicked in his mind, and Amara's words sprang out of his memory. He could use his power as a weapon or as a shield.
Immediately he closed his eyes and tried to imagine a shelter around himself and Hunnul, a tent perhaps, clear, so he could see through it, permeable so they could breathe, and impervious to any kind of weapon. He concentrated, ignoring the pain, the fal ing stones, the frightened horse, and the gorthlings. He felt the power of magic flow through him, a little unsteadily at first, then warm and increasingly more comfortable. Slowly he raised his hands, lifting them over his head and down in the shape of a domed tent.
Something seemed to be happening around him, for the stones were no longer hitting him, and the gorthlings seemed to be howling in
Before them, the path continued on through a giant cavern, except now it was no more than a narrow ledge that wound along the wal on the left side of the cavern. About twenty feet directly below the trail was a wide, slow-flowing river of lava that was moving downward toward the center of the mountain. Valorian had never seen molten rock before, and' its heat and ponderous, deadly current staggered him. He didn't need an explanation to know that it would be agony to fall into that river of liquid stone.
On the other hand, he and Hunnul couldn't stand around and wait for the gorthlings to catch them.
They had to keep going. Swiftly Valorian dismounted and, after a few reassuring words to his horse, led Hunnul onto the thin, crumbling ledge.
The trail was barely wide enough for the big horse. Hunnul had to pick his way very carefully along the cracked and cluttered ledge with his barrel rubbing along the stone wall and his hooves bare inches from the drop--off. He nickered nervously, and Valorian reached back to rub his nose.
It was that movement that saved the clansman from the torment of the lava, for just as Valorian turned to comfort his horse, a blob of molten rock splattered against the wall by his head.
Valorian instinctively spun to face the danger. There, running along the surface of the lava river, were five gorthlings. They didn't seem to be bothered by the heat or the fluidity of the lava but ran over the surface as if it were solid ground. One scooped up a handful of the stuff and lobbed it toward the path above.
At that moment, the pursuing group of about fifteen or twenty gorthlings emerged from the tunnel. They whooped with glee when they saw the man and the horse on the ledge and the gorthling reinforcements on the river. With incredible agility, they scampered like wizened monkeys along the trail after their quarry.
"You can run, nag-rider," the gorthlings on the river cal ed rudely, "but you haven't got much farther you can go!"
"Let's see you jump, you useless heap of guts," one of the gorthlings on the ledge taunted. It flung a rock at Valorian to punctuate his point. The rest of the creatures fol owed suit, hurling a tormenting rain of stones, lava blobs, and insults.
Valorian and Hunnul frantically forced their way along the trail in an effort to escape the merciless barrage. They had only taken a few steps when two rocks struck Hunnul on the rump, and at the same time a handful of lava splattered around Valorian's legs. The clansman cried out and tried to shake the burning blobs from his leggings. The molten rock didn't actual y burn his skin, but the pain was there as real and terrible as in life. The stallion squealed, leaped forward, and nearly plowed the man off the ledge.
Valorian, clenching his teeth to ward off the pain, held on to Hunnul's mane with every ounce of his strength. Panic rose like bile in his throat. He tried to think through the jumble of pain and fear in his mind. He had to do something fast before one or both of them fell off the ledge into the lava or were overwhelmed by the gorthlings. What he needed was a shield, or better yet, a shelter. Then, like a little spark, a coherent thought clicked in his mind, and Amara's words sprang out of his memory. He could use his power as a weapon or as a shield.
Immediately he closed his eyes and tried to imagine a shelter around himself and Hunnul, a tent perhaps, clear, so he could see through it, permeable so they could breathe, and impervious to any kind of weapon. He concentrated, ignoring the pain, the fal ing stones, the frightened horse, and the gorthlings. He felt the power of magic flow through him, a little unsteadily at first, then warm and increasingly more comfortable. Slowly he raised his hands, lifting them over his head and down in the shape of a domed tent.
Something seemed to be happening around him, for the stones were no longer hitting him, and the gorthlings seemed to be howling in
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