The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [163]
I looked at the opposite bank doubtfully. “All right. But I’ll tie the rope around you and hold the other end so that I can pull you back if you get into trouble.”
At first, Darga disappeared completely beneath the roaring water. But a moment later, he bobbed to the surface and struck out for the other bank. The current was so strong that he had to swim at an angle that made it look as if he were trying to make his way upstream like a salmon. He crept forward, drawing fractionally nearer the opposite bank.
By the time he reached the edge, he was clearly tiring badly, but the ordeal was not over. I watched in consternation as he tried to scale the soft edges of the bank. Time and again the earth gave way, plunging him back into the raging water.
“Pull him back,” Jik cried fearfully. “He’s drowning!”
“No,” Darga sent, his mind an exhausted whisper. The soft banks were deeply gouged before he managed at last to get a firm footing. I could see his body trembling with weariness as he dragged himself over the lip.
“Darga!” Jik shouted through his tears. Darga flapped his tail weakly twice, then lay like one dead for a long time.
When he had recovered, Darga walked around a tree several times and braced himself. I tugged my own end to test the strength of Brydda’s rope, then fastened it to a stout tree trunk, pulling the rope taut.
Jik went across hand over hand. The rope creaked and sagged until he hung waist-deep in the water, but it held. He reached the other side safely and gave a triumphant yell before untying the rope from Darga and fastening it around a rock. I had thought I might have to knock Dragon out and somehow pull her across, but watching Jik seemed to have given her confidence. She was pale but surprisingly calm, and when I saw her cross, I realized it was because she had thought of a way to make sure the water did not touch her. She, too, went across hand over hand but with her legs hooked around the rope, too. She had been less frightened of the crossing than of the water itself.
I went last, half sorry I could think of no way to untie the rope. It was the only piece we had and might be needed again.
I was further disheartened at our lack of progress. Unless the way became easier, we were wasting valuable time negotiating endless obstacles. Climbing out of the trench was harder than getting down into it, and at the top, I decided it was time to rest and eat.
Jik lit a small fire, and I set a pot of soup to cook over it. While we waited, Jik softly sang a strange song the Herders had taught him about the Blacklands. He had a remarkably sweet voice and at my request sang songs until the food was hot enough to eat.
Renewed, we went on.
Not far ahead were more trees. The bandages on my feet were filthy, and I suspected the wounds were bleeding again, but the pain was less intense.
We trudged the remainder of the day without stopping. The trees proved less dense than they had been in the first belt, and gradually, the slope became slighter and walking less arduous. Darga assured me we were still some distance from the poisoned region, which was close to the other end of the pass. Obernewtyn still seemed far away. I could hardly believe that in a few days we would be home.
I looked up through the trees at the dim, bleary afternoon fading into a smoky twilight, and shivered, glad of the blankets Brydda had insisted we carry. Winter had begun. It struck me that the first falls of snow would have blanketed the higher mountain valleys. Very soon, snow would fall at Obernewtyn, if it had not already. I shivered again and pulled my cloak around my shoulders. The moon had begun to fatten in its cycle and should have lit our way clearly, but though visible, it produced a wan, strained light, and we were forced to set our torches to flame. We halted momentarily at Darga’s warning that we were on the verge of badly poisoned ground.
“Can you find a safe way across it?” I asked him.
He sniffed. “I can smell clean ground ahead,