Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock of Gramarye 10 - The Warlock Rock by Stasheff Christopher

Author:Stasheff, Christopher
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

Chapter Fifteen

Many miles away, Rod and Gwen finally began to hear the roar of surf.

Coming out of the forest, they found themselves on a rocky beach with a thin strip of sand near the foaming breakers.

"How beautiful!" Gwen exclaimed.

"It is," Rod agreed, gazing at the dark green mass of water, smelling the salt air. "I keep forgetting."

They strolled toward the tide line, watching the gulls wheel about the sky. But they couldn't hear them— whenever there was a lull in the sound of the surf, all they could hear was the snarling and beating of the music of the metallic rocks.

"Here?" Gwen cried. "Even here?"

"I suppose," Rod said with resignation. "They fanned out from wherever they originated—and there's no reason why this edge of the fan should end, just because it's come to the ocean."

Something exploded, just barely heard above the roar of the surf, and they saw a rock go flying off into the waves. The other rock went…

"Duck!" Rod dove for the sand, pulling Gwen with him. The rock sailed by right where her head had been.

"Look!" Gwen pointed.

"Do I have to?" Rod was noticing how wonderfully the fragrance of her hair went with the scent of the surf.

"Oh, canst thou never pay heed to aught else when I am by?" she said, with exasperation (but not much). "See! The' waves do hurl the rock back at us!"

Rod followed the pointing of her finger and saw the new rock come sailing back, shooting by over their heads. They heard its whining thumping as it hurtled past.

"The sea will not have it!" Gwen exclaimed.

"Sure won't." Rod pointed to a yard-wide swath of thumping, twanging stones at the edge of the water, shifting like sand with each surge and ebb of the waves. "Thank Heaven." He had a sudden vision of the sea filling up with layer upon layer of stones, each vibrating with its own rasping beat.

Then he realized that the same phenomenon was happening on land.

"Gwen—is there any end to how many music-rocks can be produced?"

She shrugged. "As much as there is a limit to the witch-moss of which they are made, my lord."

"And there's no shortage of that—new patches crop up after every rain.

It spreads like a fungus—which it is." Rod struggled to his feet. "Come on.

We've got to find out where those rocks come from and put a stop to their making, or they'll bury the whole land."

"Husband, beware!" Gwen cried. "The waves…"

Rod leaped back as a new wave towered above him. "My Lord! Where did that one come from?"

The new wave hammered down on the heavy metal rocks and, for a moment, their music was drowned in its roar. Then, as the wave receded, the music made itself heard again.

Gwen came up behind Rod, touching his arm. "Husband mine… the music…"

"Yes," Rod said. "It has changed again."

"But can we call that a change?" Gwen murmured.

It was a good question. The music had the repetitive melodic line and metrical beat they had first heard, near Runny mede.

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