"Andre Norton - Witch World High Halleck 7 - Gryphon In Glory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

Once this had been a merchants' path. The abbey dales were notably good for
trade and several sponsored yearly fairs. However, there had been no attempt
to
keep this road open since the invasion began and now it was overgrown; winter
slides had cut away slices of the way where it climbed the ridges.
I was glad of the coming of better light, for several times I had to dismount
and lead Bural over loose footing. Still I was not too delayed until the
second
day of travel when a thick mist became a threat. It was so complete a
cloaking
of the ground that I could see less than a sword's length before me. Moisture
gathered on my helm, trickling down to wet my face, and my hands were clammy
on
the reins as I led the mare on.
To continue so blindly was folly. I began to look for shelter. There were
rocks
and heaps of stone in plenty, but nothing in the way of a cave or even a
half-roofed crevice. I had no mind to squat on wet stones in the open while
waiting for better weather.
Then, before us reared a sudden barrier of rock. Bural jerked at the reins,
turned her head stubbornly to the left, though whether that was north, south,
east, or west, I could not have said. We had left the road earlier, as it lay
straight and open for a space and I had no mind to be seen.
Since the mare was so stubborn, and the footing seemed less loose in that
direction, I allowed her her will. Thus we skirted along the wall so closely
that now and then the saddlebag brushed the stone. I do not know when I first
noticed that it was not just an escarpment of natural rock, but in truth a
wall
made to some purpose.
The stones, though rough and very large, had been laid with such skill that I
do
not believe I could have forced the point of my belt knife into the cracks.
Though on other rocks one could see the ash-green or rusty-red of lichen in
growth, this wall was clear except for runnels of moisture condensed from the
fog.
I was certain we had come upon another ruin of the Old Ones and I paused,
holding out the gryphon as a test. The crystal was, as ever, warm, while the
glittering eyes of the imprisoned beast were bright, but there came no real
glow. Not all the remains scattered about the Dales were imbued with unknown
Power. There were many no different from the new-made ruins of our own where
war
had swept. I judged this to be one of the dead places where I had nothing to
fear.
Bural plodded steadily on. There was no break in the wall. Then, suddenly,
the
mountain mare snorted, her head came up higher as if she had scented
something
through the mist. She hastened pace, pulling determinedly when I would have
held
her back.