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there.
I am being impatient, of course. I knew this search might take days, weeks,
even months! I need only the tiniest seed of evidence to justify a bigger,
more organized expedition. I am, of course, very much out on a limb. It is
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generally accepted that the place is a myth, simply a part of the rich
folklore of this land. It is more than likely that there is nothing to find. I
am prepared for that possibility.
There is also a chance, however, that the school lay near some other, unknown,
lake,
and that the two have become confused in folk memory ...
12 August, morning
The mountainscape in the dawn is breathtaking. Great peaks surge up through
the mist, the lower slopes painted dark violet by shadow. Long tongues of
forest run down into the valleys, but the naked rock of the peaks is drenched
by the sun's first rays to the most wondrous hues of rose and silver. I wish I
could have captured the moment before sunrise, when sky and mountains turned
as ruby-red as blood.
We are very high up now, and seem to be beyond civilization, on the roof of
the world. All along the way I have been looking for the smallest sign - and
have asked
Miklos to do the same - that human beings once passed this way. A horseshoe
nail, a button! So far, nothing. Time now for a meagre breakfast, and onwards.
13 August
Another fruitless day. We have climbed steep, rugged slopes, wound our way
through thick forests until we are both exhausted and disorientated. My
usually infallible sense of direction seems constantly to disagree with the
compass! It will be restored by sleep. We are camped in the lee of a cliff,
and it seems very dark tonight. The fire burns low and
Miklos is in a deep sleep. The weather has turned cold and the howling of
wolves sounds unutterably eerie. These mountains are so vast and wild, it
would indeed be possible to wander in circles and never find our way home. It
is all too easy, in a state of extreme tiredness, to allow all kinds of
imaginings to intrude on the mind. No wonder superstitions take such a hold on
the peasant brain. Away with these thoughts!
14 August
We have cast the search wider and are making for a westerly chain of peaks
that looks promising; great limestone obelisks towering from the forested
steeps like a voivode's fortress. But the way is proving difficult. Our path
has taken us down into a deep, narrow gorge and it is hard to find a route up
the precipitous ridge of rock that rims the far side -
especially with the weight of our knapsacks on our shoulders. We have
attempted several deer tracks that look easy enough from below but are
impassible, forcing us back to the gorge floor. The map is of no help. Miklos
is tiring, but I cannot give up. I have a strong feeling that we must cross
the ridge, that on the far side we will find nestling some extraordinary
ancient edifice on which human eyes have not alighted for centuries! The more
it defies us, the stronger the feeling grows.
I am worried about Miklos. His usual stoical good temper is failing him. He is
very quiet. If I catch him unawares, I see an expression of extreme distress
on his face, as if he were in pain or terror. When challenged he insists there
is nothing wrong, but I fear the journey is proving too much for him. He may
well have strained a muscle and be in pain, but it's the Devil's own job to
make him admit it! I hear him muttering behind me as we walk. I cannot make
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out the words, except for, 'The dragon, the dragon.' I must confess it becomes
very trying. But if I turn round and challenge him, he denies that he ever
spoke.
15 August
We crossed the ridge today. Dear God, my hands are shaking so that I can
barely hold the pen. I hope you are able to read it, my friend Abraham. No
matter, I must set it all
down.
At dawn we moved higher up the gorge and at last found a tortuous way over the
great, frowning brow of rock. On the crest there was no more to see than a
circle of fanged rocks cupping a sea of forest. Not the gleaming spires of the
Scholomance, after all. Not that I actually expected to see a spectacle that I
suspect exists only in legend, but
I was disappointed, all the same. Still, there was such an air of mystery on
the place that I
was eager to descend. I turned to Miklos, only to see an expression of intense
dread on his face. 'Must we go down there?' he said.
'But of course,' I replied. 'Miklos, whatever is wrong?'
'Nothing, sir.' His stoic look returned.
'You're exhausted. If you would prefer to camp here on the ridge and wait for
me while I explore the valley, I will understand.'
'No, sir,' he said quickly. 'I cannot let you go into it alone!' And there was
such fear in his voice it quite affected me for several minutes. Angered at
myself as well as him, I led the way down the ridge in silence.
The dense spruce forest enveloped us. All was deathly quiet. Presently I saw a
gleam between the tree-trunks, a glint of dark, glassy water. I hurried
forward until we came out on to the bank of a small lake. I can hardly
describe my emotions as we stood there. The water was darkest blue-green and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]