The Crown of Dalemark Read Online Free PDF

don’t go to places where people live anymore. They say that Kern Adon set up the waystones and told the Wanderer to guard the roads, and if you follow them right, they say you arrive at King Hern’s city of gold.”
    â€œI heard them called the paths of the Undying,” said Mitt.
    â€œOh yes. They’re called that, too,” said Rith. “My old nurse used to tell me that the Undying sit in the hole in the waystones. What do you think of that?”
    â€œThey couldn’t!” Mitt said unguardedly. “Not unless they shrunk.”
    Rith got very interested in this idea. “Then how big do you think the Undying are?” he kept saying, in the same coaxing way he had tried to get at Mitt’s opinion of the North. “I’ve never been able to decide. Do you think they’re made of something that isn’t as solid as we are, so that they can be of any size? Or what?”
    These Northerners! Mitt thought. Rith was laughing, but he was serious, too. They finished eating, and Mitt got up, rather reluctantly, to untie the Countess-horse.
    â€œWhat size do you think?” Rith said, leading his horse downhill to the river.
    â€œIf you must know,” Mitt called over his shoulder, “they’re people-sized. It stands to reason.” He dragged the Countess-horse round to follow Rith. “How could—” He stopped and blinked.
    There was no wide rolling river anymore. Rith was on his way down to a sunken crease in the hillside that was choked with small oak trees. Mitt could hear water rushing among the trees.
    â€œYou’re probably right,” Rith called back, “though some of the things they do make them seem smaller. Come on. It really is quite shallow here.”
    Mitt slowly followed him down among the oaks, wondering just what river it was that he had seen. There was no question in his mind that the real Aden was the yelling, stony stream in front of him now, glinting bright coins of sunlight under the trees. Rivers in the North always seemed to crouch like this one along dips in the hills. And he had not seen a single willow tree since he left the South. Shivers ran down his back, and he approached the brawling little Aden very cautiously indeed.
    So did the Countess-horse. At the edge of the water it put its ears back, braced its hooves, and refused to move. Mitt called it names.
    â€œI’ll give you a lead,” said Rith. He stepped into the shrilling water, which proved to be only a few inches deep, and waded carefully, watching the stones in the bottom, until he and his horse had become dark shadows, patterned with sun between the oak leaves.
    At this point the Countess-horse found it preferred not to be left behind and took off suddenly after Rith, dragging Mitt in sheets of bright water. Mitt kept hold of the reins and managed to stay on his feet until he was halfway across, where his foot turned heavily on something that flashed in the sun.
    Rith called out, “Look there!” in a surprisingly deep, strong voice, and dived toward Mitt.
    It was all sun-patterned wet confusion. Both horses got away, and Mitt sat down with a splash. Rith plunged his hands down where Mitt’s feet had been and stood up triumphantly holding something that shone. Water poured off his elbows as he held it out for Mitt to see.
    â€œLook at this!”
    Mitt floundered to his knees. The thing had evidently once been a little statue—a figurine, Mitt thought the word was. As Rith turned it round, Mitt could see traces of a face and the folds of a robe on the side that was green with river slime. The other side was grated and scratched all over, and that side shone a pure buttery yellow. Mitt in his time had worked enough inlay into gun handles to know what that meant. “It’s solid gold!” he said.
    â€œI think it is,” Rith said. He sounded awestruck. “Who found it? You or me?”
    â€œYou picked it up,” Mitt