So weak
and pathetic had his movement become that two jackals thought to attack
him, and had to be driven back, though they followed the rest of the
way.
At long, impossible length he reached the gorge path and slithered down.
Upon reaching its base he could not at first rouse himself to continue.
A great wall of despairing fatigue seemed to stand before him, on top of
him, and in his bones, an impenetrable 'No' formed of unendurable
stone. He was tired, and the weight was too much.
His one desire at that moment was to sleep and say goodbye. Just sleep.
Sylviana would understand. After all, she still had Akar. Together
they could fly with Skither to the Island, and all would be well. And
he smiled, because Skither was not dead. That was only a dream.
Together they rode on his wings, above the parting clouds.....
Through the delirium he heard a confused sound of high yapping barks and
deeper, more terrible growls. Then he felt a tugging at his shoulder
and finally, the cutting of teeth. He jerked forward in dismay,
expecting to be assailed.
But the call to life had come from Akar, who stood guarding him quietly
in the darkness, stood waiting for him to revive, stand, and make the
final effort. Kalus raised himself slowly, let out a groan of pain and
loss, then followed him up the merciless incline.
Pages:
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156