Mirror 04 The Way Between the Worlds Read Online Free PDF

Even knowing that the statues were mere
metal, Llian could not move, they so embodied the mythical terrors his
childhood had been steeped in. Then, looking back, he saw his pursuers emerge
out of shadow below the arena. They were only a minute away. Basitor was well
ahead, his impossibly long legs flashing.
Squawking in terror, Llian clawed his way up the remaining steps like a lame
    crab. One, two, three, four, five. Five to go! He could see the fury on
Basitor's face; the snarl; the bared teeth. No mercy there! Basitor would dash
out his brains against the steps, or throw him over the side without a
thought.
Llian hurled himself up the last high step, stuck for a moment as his hobbles
caught on the broken stone, then with a tremendous heave freed himself,
skidded across the landing, flung the gate open and crashed head first into
one of the decorated plates on the door. It clanked; something inside gave
forth a hollow boom that echoed on and on. He bashed at the door until his
knuckles bled. It was too late. Basitor was already at the bottom of the
steps. He leapt up, four steps at each stride.
'Got you, you treacherous swine,' he gasped, striking Llian a blow in the
belly that doubled him over helpless. 'I should have done this a year ago.'
He picked Llian up by the collar and the seat of the pants, shaking him until
his brains felt like jelly. Llian tried to kick
him but Basitor was too big and strong. The rest of the company was still too
far away to do anything, even supposing that they cared to.
'You're dead!' raged Basitor, holding Llian out over the precipice and
punctuating every phrase with another shake. 'Do you remember Hintis? Dead
because of you! Do you remember Selial, Shalah, Thel, Trule?' He went on with
a litany of names, most unknown to Llian, as if he blamed him for every death
in Shazmak and since, and planned to list each one too. 'Do you remember the
kindness my brethren in Shazmak showed you, treacherous Zain? Do you remember
Rael? All dead because of you. Because of you beloved Shazmak lies in ruins!
This is the least I can do for them.'
Llian looked down. The gorge was bathed in the baleful glare from the dark
moon. The beckoning rocks were as clear as daylight. Basitor shook him until
it all became a blur again, then drew back his arm.
As he did, Llian's hand struck one of the many metal projections that stuck
out from the walls of the tower. He gripped it like a drowning man, heaved and
his knee struck Basitor in the eye. Basitor fell against the wall, relaxing
his grip for a second. Llian kicked free and went hand over hand up the wall,
using the rods and hooks like a ladder. His fear of heights was nothing to his
terror of Basitor. One of his hobbles snagged on a hook and he almost fell. He
freed himself, his upstretched hand caught the lip of an embrasure and without
looking he threw himself in head first.
Eventually his brain stopped whirling, his eyes uncrossed. He was in the upper
chamber where the great telling had been held a week ago. There was a mound of
wreckage on the floor - beams, tiles and metal, the remains of the roof -but
the space around the construct was swept clear as if the rubble had been
repelled from it. Snowflakes drifted down through the broken roof and covered
every surface, though the construct was as black and clean as ever.
Llian lay on the floor, literally unable to get up. His body had suffered too
many injuries, too many insults in the past two weeks. He lifted his head.
Rulke was sitting on the high seat of the construct concentrating hard on
something. As his eyes adjusted, Llian saw that the room was hung with a
ghostly web of light, like a barely visible fishing net curving from one wall
to another. The fibres of the net began to glow more brightly, the light
spreading and smearing out until the net became a shimmering wall, a barrier
across which iridescent lights danced. Ripples passed gently across its