The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [21]
I sensed the unease of the animals, and with each crash of thunder, their tension grew; yet I had the odd impression it was not the storm but something else that unnerved them. There was another loud crash, very close, and a log fell right alongside the carriage.
The horses’ suppressed terror erupted, and they bolted, plunging along the road at a mad pace, jerking the coach after them like some doomed creature being dragged to its death. I could hear Enoch’s blasphemous thoughts as he fought to control the maddened team.
Clinging to my seat, I looked down at the guardian, who continued to sleep. Branches scraped at the window; the road had suddenly narrowed, and we were in the midst of a thick clump of gnarled trees. I hoped none would fall, for they were big enough to crush the carriage.
A blinding gray rain fell as we passed from the trees and out into the open again. I could see very little because of the rain and the darkness, but the landscape looked barren and ugly. Then the rain stopped as abruptly as a tap turned off.
The silence that followed was so complete it was uncanny. The horses were under control again, and I heard a tired snort from one. The sound almost echoed in the stillness. It had grown fractionally lighter, and I could see sparse trees drooping wearily. I thought the land must indeed be cursed for the fury of nature to strike at it so mercilessly.
Then, before my eyes, the land seemed to transform itself from a barren place to the bleakest, deadest piece of earth. It was impossible to imagine a single blade of grass or even the most stunted tree growing in this place. A strange, terrible burning smell penetrated the carriage despite the thick glass of the windows. I could see vapors rising sluggishly from the earth and writhing along like yellowish snakes. In some places, the ground was as smooth and shiny as glass.
This, then, was the tainted ground, but surely it could not long ago have been true Blacklands.
Now I understood the tension of the horses. It was not the storm they had feared but the poisoned earth they must cross. It was a narrow stretch, and only a short time passed before we returned to a less desolate landscape, but the brief glimpse of the effects of the Great White seared into my mind.
I heard a faint rumbling sound and, looking around again, wondered what could happen next. The noise arose almost from the hills themselves, and a small breeze began to blow. The sky had the dull sheen of polished metal as the wind grew in force. All at once it was cold enough that my breath misted the air inside the carriage.
Then the storm burst over us again. This time there was no rain, just a fierce wind that tossed the cart around like a leaf. The long-suffering trees were bent almost double beneath this fresh onslaught, and I began to understand their ragged appearance. They did well even to survive in this savage land. There seemed something primitive and destructive in the wind, an evil intent I could nearly feel.
Like the rain, it stopped suddenly, and all at once I could hear only the slushy rattle of the wheels as they plowed through the new mud. The sound accomplished what nothing else had been able to do—it woke the guardian.
With a grunt, she sat up and blinked owlishly. “Have we passed the storms?” she asked.
“You mean … they’re always like that?” I asked.
“If you went back there right now, the storms would still be going on,” the guardian confirmed with a shudder of distaste. “They’re caused by the Blacklands.”
I looked out the window again.
The last stretch of the journey seemed endless, for Obernewtyn was some distance from the tainted pass. The country grew more fertile and ordinary, though very jagged and uneven, with great outcrops of stone rearing up here and there from the dense forest. It was still a hard, wild sort of land, but it seemed fair and rich after the devastated terrain.
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