disorientation.
‘I think I’ve found it. I’m going up. I can’t wait till the morning. I need you to keep an eye on me, that’s all. If I get in trouble, get help, but I won’t get in trouble.’
‘You’re mad,’ Hugo finally said.
‘At least partially,’ Luc agreed. ‘Shine the torch there. It doesn’t look too bad.’
‘Christ, Luc. Wait till tomorrow.’
‘Not a chance.’
He directed Hugo where to aim his torch and found a good handhold to start the ascent. The distinct strata of the rock face formed a staircase of sorts and he never really felt in imminent danger, but still he took it slowly, aware that night-climbing and wine were not an ideal combination.
In a few minutes he was at the spot where he thought the bats were disappearing, although he wasn’t positive. There was nothing resembling a cave mouth or shelter in sight. He had a good enough purchase on the cliff that he was able to remove his own torch from his jacket pocket for a closer inspection. Just then, a bat flew out of the cliff and zoomed past his ear. Startled, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and make sure his foot hold hadn’t slipped.
There was a crack in the rock face. No more than a few centimetres wide. After he transferred the torch to his left fist he was able to slide his right hand into the crack until his fingers disappeared to the knuckles. He pulled down and felt a wobble. On closer inspection the wobble was coming from a flat rock wedged in the wall. In an instant it dawned on him. He was staring at a dry wall of flat stones installed in the cliff face, so artfully crafted that it simulated the natural strata.
He wiggled the stone out with some effort and when it came free he carefully placed it on its side on a narrow shelf, calling down to Hugo in warning to step aside in case it fell, for it was deadly enough, the size of a coffee-table book. The next several rocks came out more easily but he ran out of places to balance them so he started pushing them back into the widening opening instead. Before long he was looking at a hole large enough to ram his body through.
‘I’m going in,’ he called down.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Hugo pleaded.
‘Nothing’s going to stop me,’ Luc defiantly replied before reaching over and wedging his head and shoulders into the gap.
From the ledge below, Hugo watched as Luc’s shoulders disappeared, then his torso and finally his legs. He called up, ‘Are you all right?’
Luc heard him but didn’t answer.
He was inside the mouth of the cave crawling on all fours until he realised the vault was capacious enough to stand upright. He shone his torch ahead then swung it from side to side.
He felt his knees weaken and he almost lost balance.
Blood was rushing in his ears.
There was the sibilant fluttering of a bat colony.
Then he heard his own cracking voice rasp, ‘Oh my God!’
SIX
Luc was aware of motion.
He felt surrounded, in the middle of a pack, a stampede.
It was at once suffocating and disorientating, compounded by the way he was hyperkinetically moving his torch, bouncing angles of light off the tawny walls and stalactites in an effort to take it all in, flitting from image to image, creating a stroboscopic jumble in the black confines of the cave.
To his left was a charging herd of horses, huge beasts boldly rendered in charcoal that overlapped one another, their mouths open in exertion, their manes thick, their pupils piercing black discs afloat in pale ovals of unpigmented rock.
To his right were thundering bison with upraised tails and cloven hooves, all energy and menace, and unlike the horses which were done in stippled black, their massive bodies were fully shaded in bold swathes of black and reddish-brown.
Above his head was a single giant black bull in full motion, running headlong into the cave, two legs off the ground in a full gallop. Its head was lowered, presenting its horns in aggression and its nostrils were
‘I think I’ve found it. I’m going up. I can’t wait till the morning. I need you to keep an eye on me, that’s all. If I get in trouble, get help, but I won’t get in trouble.’
‘You’re mad,’ Hugo finally said.
‘At least partially,’ Luc agreed. ‘Shine the torch there. It doesn’t look too bad.’
‘Christ, Luc. Wait till tomorrow.’
‘Not a chance.’
He directed Hugo where to aim his torch and found a good handhold to start the ascent. The distinct strata of the rock face formed a staircase of sorts and he never really felt in imminent danger, but still he took it slowly, aware that night-climbing and wine were not an ideal combination.
In a few minutes he was at the spot where he thought the bats were disappearing, although he wasn’t positive. There was nothing resembling a cave mouth or shelter in sight. He had a good enough purchase on the cliff that he was able to remove his own torch from his jacket pocket for a closer inspection. Just then, a bat flew out of the cliff and zoomed past his ear. Startled, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and make sure his foot hold hadn’t slipped.
There was a crack in the rock face. No more than a few centimetres wide. After he transferred the torch to his left fist he was able to slide his right hand into the crack until his fingers disappeared to the knuckles. He pulled down and felt a wobble. On closer inspection the wobble was coming from a flat rock wedged in the wall. In an instant it dawned on him. He was staring at a dry wall of flat stones installed in the cliff face, so artfully crafted that it simulated the natural strata.
He wiggled the stone out with some effort and when it came free he carefully placed it on its side on a narrow shelf, calling down to Hugo in warning to step aside in case it fell, for it was deadly enough, the size of a coffee-table book. The next several rocks came out more easily but he ran out of places to balance them so he started pushing them back into the widening opening instead. Before long he was looking at a hole large enough to ram his body through.
‘I’m going in,’ he called down.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Hugo pleaded.
‘Nothing’s going to stop me,’ Luc defiantly replied before reaching over and wedging his head and shoulders into the gap.
From the ledge below, Hugo watched as Luc’s shoulders disappeared, then his torso and finally his legs. He called up, ‘Are you all right?’
Luc heard him but didn’t answer.
He was inside the mouth of the cave crawling on all fours until he realised the vault was capacious enough to stand upright. He shone his torch ahead then swung it from side to side.
He felt his knees weaken and he almost lost balance.
Blood was rushing in his ears.
There was the sibilant fluttering of a bat colony.
Then he heard his own cracking voice rasp, ‘Oh my God!’
SIX
Luc was aware of motion.
He felt surrounded, in the middle of a pack, a stampede.
It was at once suffocating and disorientating, compounded by the way he was hyperkinetically moving his torch, bouncing angles of light off the tawny walls and stalactites in an effort to take it all in, flitting from image to image, creating a stroboscopic jumble in the black confines of the cave.
To his left was a charging herd of horses, huge beasts boldly rendered in charcoal that overlapped one another, their mouths open in exertion, their manes thick, their pupils piercing black discs afloat in pale ovals of unpigmented rock.
To his right were thundering bison with upraised tails and cloven hooves, all energy and menace, and unlike the horses which were done in stippled black, their massive bodies were fully shaded in bold swathes of black and reddish-brown.
Above his head was a single giant black bull in full motion, running headlong into the cave, two legs off the ground in a full gallop. Its head was lowered, presenting its horns in aggression and its nostrils were
Similar Books
