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Updated: May 9, 2025
It was approaching Sarclash, and it was an open question whether or not it would clear its peak. The heat was sweltering. The long, massive, saucer-shaped ridge behind them, with its terrific precipices, was glowing with bright morning colours. Adage, towering up many thousands of feet higher still, guarded the end of it like a lonely Colossus.
It was above a mile across. On each side of it, east and west, the dark walls of the ridge descended sheer. At the point where the pass sprang outward they were two thousand feet from top to bottom, but as the ridge went upward, on the one hand toward Adage, on the other toward Sarclash, they attained almost unbelievable heights.
You are merely a ferryman, Haunte." "Is that so?" returned Haunte, with a most unpleasant laugh. "I thought I was carrying men, not gods." "Where are we?" asked Maskull. As he spoke, he got out, but Haunte remained standing a minute in the boat. "This is Sarclash the second highest mountain in the land." "Which is the highest, then?" "Adage.
His voice was extremely loud, and possessed a most unpleasant timbre. It sounded to Maskull like a large volume of air trying to force its way through a narrow orifice. "I am Maskull; my friend is Corpang. He comes from Threal, but where I come from, don't ask." "I am Haunte, from Sarclash." "Where may that be?" "Half an hour ago I could have shown it to you, but now it has got too murky.
She gazed at her feet, and smiled. "What does it matter what my thoughts are? Tell me, are you starting at once, or do you mean to rest first? It's a rough road to Adage." "What's in your mind?" demanded Maskull. "I will guide you a little. When we reach the ridge between Sarclash and Adage, perhaps I shall turn back." "And then?"
All glittered green, and all possessed the extraordinary hanging caps that characterised the Lichstorm range. These caps were of fantastic shapes, and each one was different. The valley directly opposite them was filled with rolling mist. Sarclash was a mighty mountain mass in the shape of a horseshoe. Its two ends pointed west, and were separated from each other by a mile or more of empty space.
The northern end became the ridge on which they stood. The southern end was the long line of cliffs on that part of the mountain where Haunte's cave was situated. The connecting curve was the steep slope they had just traversed. One peak of Sarclash was invisible. In the south-west many mountains raised their heads.
"Nature is freakish and cruel, and doesn't act according to justice.... Follow us, Haunte, and escape from it all." "I'll see," muttered Haunte. "Perhaps I will." "Have we far to go, to Sullenbode?" inquired Maskull. "No, her home's under the hanging cap of Sarclash." "What is to happen tonight?" Maskull spoke to himself, but Haunte answered him.
The sky was nearly cloudless. The whole wonderful extent of the mighty ridge behind him began to emerge from the morning mist... there was a part of Sarclash, and the ice-green crest of gigantic Adage itself, which he could only take in by throwing his head right back. He gazed at everything in weary apathy, like a lost soul.
Between Sarclash and Adage there is a long ridge very difficult in places. About halfway along the ridge, at the lowest point, lies the top of the Mornstab Pass, which goes through to Barey. Now you know the lay of the land." "Does the woman Sullenbode live near here?" "Near enough." Haunte grinned.
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