Motion and temporary bafflement of the senses. That was what it took. …
We raced on, and the wind slammed and bit and cried out. Drifts began to cover the road.
We rounded a bend and emerged from the storm. The world was still a glazed-over thing and an occasional flake flitted by, but the sun pulled free of the clouds, pouring light upon the land, and we headed downward once more. . . .
. . . Passing through a fog and emerging in a barren, though snowless waste of rock and pitted land. . . .
. . . We bore to the right, regained the sun, followed a twisted course on a level plain, winding among tall, featureless stands of blue-gray stone. . . .
. . . Where far off to our right the black road paced as.
Waves of heat washed over us and the land steamed. Bubbles popped in boiling stews that filled the craters, adding their fumes to the dank air. Shallow puddles lay like a handful of old, bronze coins.
The horses raced, half-maddened now, as geysers began to erupt along the trail. Scalding waters spewed across the roadway, narrowly missing us, running in steaming, slick sheets. The sky was brass and the sun was a mushy apple. The wind was a panting dog with bad breath.
The ground trembled, and far off to our left a mountain blew its top toward the heavens and buried fires after it. An ear-splitting crash temporarily deafened us and concussion waves kept beating against our bodies. The wagon swayed and shimmied.
The ground continued to shake and the winds slammed us with near-hurricane force as we rushed toward a row of black-topped hills. We left what there was of a roadway when it turned in the wrong direction and headed, bumping and shuddering, across the plain itself. The hills continued to grow, dancing in the troubled air.
I turned when I felt Ganelon’s hand on my arm. He was shouting something, but I could not hear him. Then he pointed back and I followed his gesture. I saw nothing that I had not expected to see. The air was turbulent, filled with dust, debris, ashes. I shrugged and returned my attention to the hills.
A greater darkness occurred at the base of the nearest hill. I made for it.
It grew before me as the ground slanted downward once more, an enormous cavern mouth, curtained by a steady fall of dust and gravel.
I cracked the whip in the air and we raced across the final five or six hundred yards and plunged into it.
I began slowing the horses immediately, letting them relax into a walk.
We continued to move downward, turned a corner, and came into a wide, high grotto. Light leaked down from holes high above, dappling stalactites and falling upon quivering green pools. The ground continued to shake, and my hearing took a turn for the better as I saw a massive stalagmite crumble and heard the faint tinkle of its fall.
We crossed a black-bottomed chasm on a bridge that might have been limestone, which shattered behind us and vanished.
Bits of rock rained down from overhead and sometimes large stones fell. Patches of green and red fungus glowed in corners and cracks, streaks of minerals sparkled and bent, large crystals and flat flowers of pale stone added to the moist, eerie beauty of the place. We wheeled through caverns like chains of bubbles and coursed a white-chested torrent until it vanished into a black hole.
A long, corkscrew gallery took us upward once more, and I heard Ganelon’s voice, faint and echoing, “I thought that I glimpsed movement-that might be a rider-at the crest of the mountain—just for an instant-back there.” We moved into a slightly brighter chamber.
“If it was Benedict, he’s got a hard act to follow,” I shouted, and there came the tremors and muffled crashings as more things collapsed behind us.
We proceeded onward and upward, until finally openings began to occur overhead, giving upon patches of clear blue sky. The hoof clicks and the sounds of the wagon gradually assumed a normal volume and their echoes came to us also. The tremors ceased, small birds darted above us, and the light increased in intensity.