Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [60]
It would cost more time in the long run, I reasoned, if I stumbled blindly down the hillside. There had to be a trail; she could not be moving so fast otherwise. I took time to search, my knees stiffening and my palms burning. My patience was rewarded. Not far from where I had fallen I found a crude trail, half-natural, half-man-made, carved into the hillside. It was an old trail; the feet of many catalysts had trodden it before me. The trail was formed of deep gouges in the hillside, reinforced here and there with large embedded rocks or exposed tree roots.
The rocks gleamed white in the starlit night; the tree roots, worn by the passage of many feet, were slick and shiny. I made my way down the trail, wondering as I did so where it led.
The way was steep, and despite the help from rocks and other foot and handholds, my going was difficult and slow. I could no longer hear Eliza’s footfalls and knew she must be far ahead of me. My taking this route was a foolish idea. If I slipped and fell, I would probably break my leg or my ankle, and be forced to lie out here all night with no hope of rescue.
If only I could move faster! I could see, in my mind, those catalysts who had once made this trail and walked it every day, bounding down it like goats. . . .
I was bounding down it, if not like a goat, at least swiftly and easily. Brown robes hiked up to my waist, sandals flapping, a bag of scrolls flung over my shoulder, I ran down the trail in the bright sunshine of a fine day. All the young catalysts and occasionally some of the old ones took this route when they were late for classes, for this trail led straight to the University.
The vision was eerie and startling, just like the other vision I’d had before—of myself in brown robes, of Eliza my queen. . . . Of course, as an author, I was accustomed to living in my imagination and my fancies and dreams are very real to me. But not as real as this. Again, I lifted a curtain to look out a window and saw myself on the other side, looking back in.
But—could I use this to my benefit? Did I dare?
I was light-headed from exhaustion and the thin air of the high altitude. Plus I was desperate, fearful for Eliza’s safety. Otherwise I do not believe that I could have done what I did. I let go of myself in this life and gave myself to the other life, if that’s what it truly was. I became that catalyst, late for class, certain to be in trouble with the master, and I plunged down the hillside.
My feet knew where the stones would be, my hands knew where to grasp. I knew where I could safely slide and once I even jumped from one ledge to another. It was madness, it was exhilarating. If I had stopped to think about what I was doing, I would have frozen in place and been unable to move another step.
When I finally reached the bottom, I gasped for breath and stared up the hillside and the catalyst that I was vanished. I realized what I had done and my stomach turned within me. Quickly, I looked away and started to search for Eliza. I had a final image of the catalyst running in the opposite direction from the one I was taking and part of me was sorry to let him go.
I had reached a broad, flat, white-stone-paved road. It must be the main highway, leading down from the Font to the foothills and the long abandoned city below, a city whose sole reason for being had been to support the Font and the University. This road must have been clogged with wheelless carts that floated on the wings of magic and the exotic and fanciful carriages of the nobility coming to pay their respects or to ask for favors or visit sons and daughters attending the University.
I stared down the road’s bending, winding length, shining like a white ribbon in the night, and after a moment I saw a dark shadow moving along it, keeping to the