Now that he was ready, he threw his backpack across the gap, and had the satisfaction of seeing it come to rest within ten feet of the far edge. Now he retreated back a dozen paces, and ran, hurling himself into the air from the edge of the hole, keeping his head as low as he could. Some of the rock on the edge of the gap crumbled beneath his feet, but not enough to slow down the leap. He landed comfortably within two feet of the far side. The flashlight fell out of his hand and the loop slipped from his wrist, but the length of string tied to his belt prevented it from hitting the ground. Simeon’s nephew Boyd had warned him that the bulb was the most vulnerable part of the flashlight.
He sat down for a moment to allow his heart to stop pounding. He also decided to chew another food tablet — not because he was hungry, but because the glow would restore his circulation. A few minutes later, with a pleasant warmth inside him, he pulled on his pack and walked on.
Within a few hundred yards, the roar of water became louder, and he realized that the rock wall to his left had been reduced to water-worn fragments. Clearly, there were times when the river was far higher than at present. His memory of the map — etched into his mind by the thought mirror — showed that the path beside the water continued for another five hundred yards or so to the waterfall, although it continued to narrow until it became little more than a ribbon.
Within another fifty feet, he encountered another problem. The path descended toward the water, and its smooth, hard surface became a dangerous slope toward the river. He removed the backpack and carried it by its strap, so that he could lean back against the rock behind him. But a point came when he realized it was too dangerous to go on. The path was now only a foot above the water, whose speed became obvious when it encountered projections of rock, and hissed into a foam of angry streamers. If he lost his footing, nothing could save him from being swept downstream and over the waterfall, whose roar was now deafening. The beam of light showed him that the path narrowed to about three inches, and that at this point it was only just above the water level. Then, a dozen yards further on, it widened again to more than a foot. Without the backpack, he might have edged along it, taking advantage of handholds in the rock. But however he held the backpack, it undoubtedly would be too dangerous. He turned and reluctantly began to make his way back.
His heart was heavy, for he knew he was faced with the prospect of defeat. He had studied the map closely enough to know there was no other way out of this underground cave system except via the river or the sacred cave. Other tunnels, according to the map, were dead ends. The route through the sacred cave — even if he felt like repeating that terrifying climb up the wall — would only lead him to a more distant part of the spider city, which would be no advantage. So if there was no way out along the banks of the river, he would be forced to return the way he came. He thought of asking Asmak or Dravig for help, and dismissed the idea; spiders were terrified of water.
He reached the gap in the rock, threw his pack across it, then jumped once more. This time he landed gracefully on his feet, without even dropping the flashlight. Within a few minutes, he was back at the bridge across the water. Even though he knew it was safe, he trod cautiously, aware of that swift-flowing blackness under his feet. But curiosity made him shine his flashlight down into the black water, and he was surprised to catch a glimpse of a fish, and then another. They must have been carried down from the mountains.
On the far side of the bridge, where the white rock gave way to granite that was almost black, he saw that the prospect was less hopeless than he had feared. The limestone on the far side of the river had been eroded by the torrent, so the path had almost been destroyed. But the harder granite had hardly changed over the centuries. And although the men who had cut the limestone path had left the granite untouched, its waterworn surface was less difficult than it looked from the other side of the river. The granite had, of course, worn less than the limestone, so the bank was higher above the water, in some places with a drop of a dozen feet or more. In one place he had to pick his way through a mass of rock that had fallen from the ceiling, and in another, to squeeze his way along a crevice that looked as if it had been made by an earthquake. But at least his main fear — that the walls would drive him too close to the edge of the water — proved groundless.
Although it was necessary to walk very slowly, remaining vigilant for irregularities and cracks in the surface, he made good progress, and was soon able to look across the river to the point at which he had been forced to turn back. His only fear now was that the waterfall had undermined the rock, for its roar shook the earth and made him unpleasantly aware of its immense force.
And now suddenly the rock underfoot was wet with spray, and dangerously slippery. He was paying so much attention to his feet that he was startled when he turned the flashlight sideways and saw a wall of water hurtling down only a few yards away. It made him feel giddy. Nevertheless, he forced himself to halt, and turn the beam down into the depths. Twenty feet below, the foot of the waterfall was hidden by spray, and the water looked as if it was boiling. Further along, the river turned into a creamy foam, with rocks that broke it into smaller cascades.
The descent was difficult, since it was covered with jagged fragments of rock torn from the walls. Evidently the whole face of the rock had crumbled at some point, turning a vertical drop into a rock-strewn slope, that could be negotiated with extreme care. By now the spray had soaked him from head to foot, and he was beginning to feel an underlying exhaustion.
Close to the foot of the waterfall, he sat down on a flat rock to rest his aching legs. As he narrowed the beam of the flashlight and shone it into the spray, he was surprised to see that there was now a gap of about ten feet between the waterfall and the rock face behind it. This had not been shown on the map. An almost flat ledge ran behind the roaring cascade to the far bank. For a moment he considered crossing the river, then remembered the crumbling limestone on the other side, and decided that he was probably safer on this more difficult but at least solid terrain.
When his teeth began to chatter, he decided it was time to move on. He was tempted to use the thought mirror, which would have raised his body temperature; but he knew this would also drain his energies, and that he needed all his energy if he was to get out of this place within the next few hours.
At least the ground immediately ahead of him was less rocky and twisted; at some point in the remote past, the water had smoothed it like sandpaper. He had now become so accustomed to the roaring sound that he ignored it, and strode beside the rapids as if taking an afternoon stroll. Slowly, the sound diminished behind him. Half an hour later, the river had widened, and the surface was so smooth that it seemed almost static.
When he came upon a stump of rock with a flat surface and an upright like the back of a chair, he took the opportunity to sit down and rest. Walking had raised his temperature so that he no longer felt cold. For a few moments he closed his eyes, and was tempted to doze. Then, remembering the long-nosed rats, he opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings in the beam of the flashlight. The river flowed smoothly, at about half its former speed, while the walls above rose thirty feet to a curved ceiling that looked almost man-made.
While he was directing the beam of light at the opposite side of the river, about sixty feet away, he was startled into sudden attention. The light was reflected off some shiny surface, and when he looked more closely, it seemed to be a small boat. He narrowed the beam by twisting its reflector, and as the pencil of light stabbed into the darkness, saw that he was looking at a boat that had been turned upside down. At this distance it was impossible to see whether it was some wreck that had been cast ashore by the stream; but when, a few yards from it, he saw another upturned boat, and behind that, three more, he knew that he was not looking at the aftermath of an accident. At some point in the not-too-distant past, human beings had lived in this cave and navigated the river.
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