The Ancient Enemy Read Online Free
Author: Christopher Rowley
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Epic
wolves, this time ahead of him, up on the higher parts of the pike. Again they broadcast a warning: Pyluk were nearby and probably aware of him.
He turned back at once, then climbed the steep gravel slope of a side canyon. It was narrow and twisty, and the walls were nearly vertical on either side. At the back of the space it simply came to an end on a pile of debris washed down by an intermittent waterfall high above.
He climbed. The rock was well bedded, with clear lines between layers. There were many handholds in the chert beds. He got halfway up and ran into a problematical layer of crumbly shale that did not offer handholds. The slope shifted away from the vertical, but the footing was treacherous. Every so often the shale would slide out from under him and a few pieces would go tumbling off the cliff and fall into the canyon below.
At one point he lost his footing and had to dig his fingers into the shale to hang on. Pieces of shale went wicketing down the slope. He was still sliding. If he went all the way down the shale, he'd go off the edge of the steeper cliff below. And then he got a foot into a slight gap and that gave him enough traction to halt the slide. He took a deep breath and started to move back up. A few minutes later he stepped up onto the top of the little cliff. He took a deep breath; it had been close. He turned and looked down into the narrow canyon from which he'd climbed.
He felt his heart hammer in his chest for a moment. Three tall, green pyluk were standing there, great jaws agape, long spears in hand. They looked up at him with hungry eyes, then coughed and rapped their throwing sticks on their spears, a chilling sound. Then they turned and vanished back down the gully.
He had a good head start on them, but they would find a way up in time. He would have to run the rest of the way to be sure. Back above the pike he lifted his own voice in loud cry, thanking the wolves for their timely warning.
Then he ran.
When he arrived in Pembri Village, his news aroused immediate alarm. Small gangs of pyluk were an occasional menace in the Edejj Valley. There were stone carts coming up from Glashoux, and the drivers would be vulnerable to pyluk, who would spear an ox from concealment and then wait to collect it when the cart had freed the dead ox and gone on with its remaining ox taking up the slack. The pyluk would follow and spear the other ox the next day. Then at night the lizard-skinned pyluk would swarm the wagon and kill the mots. Oxen, mots, brilbies, all would go into pyluk bellies.
The folk organized a patrol to set out the next day and track down the pyluk and kill them, or at least chase them out of the valley. That night they set a strong guard on the village and howled to the distant wolf pack of the Edejj to tell them that the presence of the pyluk had been noted.
The village patrol spotted the pyluk trail the next day and chased the three marauders all the way across the valley and up the jambles stones in Soaring Creek. The pyluk eventually escaped by climbing into the wild lands of the higher Drakensberg.
Thru waited in the village for another day until the patrol returned. Then he set out on the last section of his trip, up the Edejj Valley to the watershed and down into the Valley of the Moon. Highnoth lay at the northern end of the valley, where the great mountains of Basht and Redapt faced each other.
CHAPTER THREE
The mountain was wreathed in cold mists when Thru arrived at Highnoth late in the morning. He was glad of his cloak, for the damp seemed to go right down to his bones. Like everyone else there, he would have to get used to the cold and the damp.
Inside he was greeted first by a friendly mot named Meu, a native of Dronned, who was to become a good friend while they were at Highnoth. The Assenzi themselves were amazing little beings, smaller and thinner than mots, looking almost like herons in their grey coats and black cloaks. But it was their eyes, twice the
He turned back at once, then climbed the steep gravel slope of a side canyon. It was narrow and twisty, and the walls were nearly vertical on either side. At the back of the space it simply came to an end on a pile of debris washed down by an intermittent waterfall high above.
He climbed. The rock was well bedded, with clear lines between layers. There were many handholds in the chert beds. He got halfway up and ran into a problematical layer of crumbly shale that did not offer handholds. The slope shifted away from the vertical, but the footing was treacherous. Every so often the shale would slide out from under him and a few pieces would go tumbling off the cliff and fall into the canyon below.
At one point he lost his footing and had to dig his fingers into the shale to hang on. Pieces of shale went wicketing down the slope. He was still sliding. If he went all the way down the shale, he'd go off the edge of the steeper cliff below. And then he got a foot into a slight gap and that gave him enough traction to halt the slide. He took a deep breath and started to move back up. A few minutes later he stepped up onto the top of the little cliff. He took a deep breath; it had been close. He turned and looked down into the narrow canyon from which he'd climbed.
He felt his heart hammer in his chest for a moment. Three tall, green pyluk were standing there, great jaws agape, long spears in hand. They looked up at him with hungry eyes, then coughed and rapped their throwing sticks on their spears, a chilling sound. Then they turned and vanished back down the gully.
He had a good head start on them, but they would find a way up in time. He would have to run the rest of the way to be sure. Back above the pike he lifted his own voice in loud cry, thanking the wolves for their timely warning.
Then he ran.
When he arrived in Pembri Village, his news aroused immediate alarm. Small gangs of pyluk were an occasional menace in the Edejj Valley. There were stone carts coming up from Glashoux, and the drivers would be vulnerable to pyluk, who would spear an ox from concealment and then wait to collect it when the cart had freed the dead ox and gone on with its remaining ox taking up the slack. The pyluk would follow and spear the other ox the next day. Then at night the lizard-skinned pyluk would swarm the wagon and kill the mots. Oxen, mots, brilbies, all would go into pyluk bellies.
The folk organized a patrol to set out the next day and track down the pyluk and kill them, or at least chase them out of the valley. That night they set a strong guard on the village and howled to the distant wolf pack of the Edejj to tell them that the presence of the pyluk had been noted.
The village patrol spotted the pyluk trail the next day and chased the three marauders all the way across the valley and up the jambles stones in Soaring Creek. The pyluk eventually escaped by climbing into the wild lands of the higher Drakensberg.
Thru waited in the village for another day until the patrol returned. Then he set out on the last section of his trip, up the Edejj Valley to the watershed and down into the Valley of the Moon. Highnoth lay at the northern end of the valley, where the great mountains of Basht and Redapt faced each other.
CHAPTER THREE
The mountain was wreathed in cold mists when Thru arrived at Highnoth late in the morning. He was glad of his cloak, for the damp seemed to go right down to his bones. Like everyone else there, he would have to get used to the cold and the damp.
Inside he was greeted first by a friendly mot named Meu, a native of Dronned, who was to become a good friend while they were at Highnoth. The Assenzi themselves were amazing little beings, smaller and thinner than mots, looking almost like herons in their grey coats and black cloaks. But it was their eyes, twice the
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