Wavesong by Isobelle Carmody

Author:Isobelle Carmody [Carmody, Isobelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2010-04-11T22:00:00+00:00

14

I OPENED MY eyes to pitchy blackness. Both hands were pressed against my body, and when I tried to move, pain lanced through my head. At first I thought I had been captured and tied up, but there were no bindings about my wrists or body. I could not move because there was stone all about me. Swallowing hard, I told myself I must have fallen sideways into a crevice running off from the tunnel, and now I was wedged there. I felt about with my fingers and toes and butted my head gently forward, trying to get an idea of the space into which I had fallen, but to my dismay, the movement caused me to slip farther down into the crack.

Suppressing panic, I lay completely still, willing myself to calmness. I felt extraordinarily weary, which meant that my body had been draining my energy to repair whatever damage I had done in the fall.

Ruthlessly, I quashed fear and imagination and commanded myself to think, for only I could get myself out of the predicament into which I had literally fallen. Using my fingertips and toes, I began very slowly and carefully to ease myself back up the crack. Only because I had fallen sideways into the cleft instead of headfirst did I notice the play of light against the stone as I inched myself upward. I froze and saw that the light was growing stronger, which could only mean that someone was coming along the tunnel with a lantern.

I kept my eyes fixed on the crack, for if it was Wenda, I would have only one chance to call out softly and stop her from blundering into whatever lay at the end of the tunnel. Then I became aware of the thud of feet; not just the feet of one person, but of many people marching in time. Surely that could mean only one thing: The invasion was under way!

At least I am not a captive, I told myself, fighting a wave of despair. Once the marchers had passed, I would have to go in the opposite direction to warn the others. But what of Wenda?

The light grew brighter, and now I could feel the vibration of the marchers’ boots through the stone. Soon they were passing the opening: an endless line of grim-faced, shaven-headed Herders in dark gray robes moving up the tunnel toward the cloister. Save for the color of their attire, they looked no different from any other Herders, except they were more powerful-looking, and I seemed to feel their relentless purpose. These must be the warrior priests Noviny had described. No wonder Malik had looked at me in triumph. He had known that the invasion force was on the verge of arriving.

I willed the column to end so I could renew my efforts to escape the crack, praying that Wenda would hear the thud of the Herders’ feet if she was coming along the tunnel.

By the time the last warrior had passed, my whole

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