Part 22 (1/2)

But was there? None of the items of deadwood were large enough to form a bridge, and certainly the stones would not do it. Unless- She got to work, not letting herself think about how risky it was. She picked up wood, and rolled rocks, forming a pile at the brink of the cleft. She packed them in as solidly as she could, fas.h.i.+oning a ramp whose height rose significantly above the ground.

Marrow appraised this activity with a tilted eyeball socket. ”Isn't this a diversion of the strength you need to cross the cleft?” he inquired.

”I'm building a ramp,” she explained. ”My hope is that it will enable me to achieve a broader leap.”

He considered. ”Judging by your demonstrated power of foot and present ma.s.s, I believe you will fall short of the far landing by this amount,” he said, holding his hand bones about a body width apart.

Chex remembered how accurate his estimate of her progress in the water cave had been. That dismayed her. She had hoped that the added elevation would do the trick. She had used up all the available materials; she could build the ramp no higher.

But she had one other chance. ”I cannot fly, but my wings do provide some lift,” she said. ”Will that extend my distance enough?”

”I have no knowledge of the parameters of flying,” he said.

”It will have to do,” she said. ”Let me toss you across now, and I will join you in a moment.”

”As you wish.”

She picked him up by neck bone and hipbone, swung him back, then heaved him across. He landed in a pile, but in a moment straightened out; he was not subject to bruises. Then she tossed her bow and quiver of arrows across, and her supply pack; she wanted to carry no weight she could avoid on the jump.

Then, reflecting, she caught up again on natural functions. That was one more way to reduce weight. She had not eaten during this climb and was hungry, but at the moment that was for the best.

It was time. She trotted to the other side of the crest, then started her takeoff run. She accelerated steadily and smoothly, saving her peak effort for the conclusion. She hit the ramp, put forth her full strength, and galloped up it. At the very brink she leaped into the air.

The moment she was over the cleft, she spread her wings and flapped them mightily. She felt their downdraft, but knew it was not enough; her effort at flight was mere pretense.

Then her front hooves came down on the rock, and she knew she had made it. She brought her rear hooves up to overlap the prints of the front ones, securing her landing, and made a small secondary leap to reorient. For the first time in her life, her wings had made a significant and positive difference! How glad she was that she had built up her pectorals!

She came to a halt, then turned to face Marrow, panting. ”I hope that's the last hazard of the trail!”

”Interesting,” he remarked. ”Your wings did extend your distance significantly.”

”Most interesting,” she agreed wryly. It seemed that skeletons were not much for emotion, other than the generation of terror in bad dreams.

She ate some fruit from her pack, then donned her knapsack and bow and quiver. ”It can't be far now,” she said.

”It is not,” Marrow agreed. ”They are just beyond the next crest.”

”How do you know that?”

”I can feel the quiver of the ground as they land.”

Skeletons were evidently very sensitive to quivers of the ground! ”Good enough! I'll go make my pitch.”

”Pitch? You plan to fas.h.i.+on another ramp?”

”Ramp? Not unless there's another jump!”

”Pitch is the inclination of a declivity.”

”It is also the inclination of a presentation.”

”Amazing.”

They crested this portion of the mountain. The lofty plateau opened out, and there were the winged monsters.

They were of all types: griffins, dragons, rocs, sphinxes and a.s.sorted less common creatures, such as the hippogryph.

Xap stepped forward. He squawked.

”I understand,” Chex said. ”I had to make it on my own, or they would not listen to me. Will they listen now?”

He squawked affirmatively.

”O winged monsters,” Chex said. ”I come on behalf of the voles of the Vale. The demons have straightened the Kiss-Mee River and turned it ugly and mean, and prevent the voles from restoring it to its natural meandering. Will you help hold off the demons so that the river can be restored?”

There was a babble of squawks and hisses and growls. Then Xap squawked.

”They will decide tomorrow,” Chex repeated.

Xap squawked again.

”I must meet Cheiron?” she asked. ”You mentioned him before. Sire, you know I have trouble with centaurs! My granddam refuses even to talk to me, and the centaurs of the Isle would not let me address them.”

The hippogryph shrugged and dropped the subject. He helped her forage for her supper and showed her to a suitable place to spend the night. Marrow, who needed no sleep, spent the night walking around and making the acquaintance of the various monsters. ”A number of these would do well in bad dreams,” he remarked, impressed.

In the morning Xap explained the mechanism of the decision. Because language was a problem with many of the monsters, and so was logic, they would abide by a presentation made by champions. She would represent the cause of the voles, and Cheiron would represent the cause of the winged monsters. The cause that was most persuasive would win.

Chex realized that she, in her fatigue of the prior day, had blundered. She had rejected an introduction to the centaur, and now Cheiron was angry, and she had to oppose him formally. She was confident that she could have made her case successfully against one of the bird-brained monsters, but a centaur was a different matter. Now she had to go up against an intellect comparable to her own.

Well, what was done was done. Perhaps Cheiron would appreciate the plight of the voles despite his private affront. She would just have to do the best presentation she could.

But when she stepped out to meet Cheiron, there was only a great wash of darkness hovering over the plain. It was as though a storm cloud had moved in. ”What is this?” she asked, perplexed.

Xap squawked.

”Light and darkness” she repeated. ”I am the light, he the dark? How can I make my presentation?”

Xap squawked again.

”With my mind?” Yes, that was it. She had a.s.sumed that the presentation would be verbal and logical; now she realized that it was not merely a matter of having champions to make the presentations; the presentations themselves had to be in a form intelligible to the less sophisticated monsters. Thus light and darkness; flying creatures were good at determining shades.

The winged monsters were positioned in a circle covering the plateau. All of them faced in toward the center. They were as still as statues, waiting.

She thought of the Vale of the Vole as Volney had described it, in its original state: verdant, peaceful, pleasant, the Kiss-Mee River caressing it with its meanders. Of how any creatures that drank from it became suffused with good will and affection, though not compelled into embarra.s.sing or awkward romantic relations.h.i.+ps as happened with love springs. Light flared around her, diminis.h.i.+ng the darkness above, and at the interface between the two the contrasts formed a picture that showed her vision.

Then she thought of the way the demons had come, channelizing the river, replacing its soft curves with hard, straight lines. The picture s.h.i.+fted to show the meanness of the present Vale, where vegetation was dying and creatures shunned each other, and the motto was Kick Mee or even Kill Mee.