[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
in the forester. He had nothing else. Either Telemark spoke truth, or both of
them risked death by exposure in the stormy winter night.
The forester reached out and clasped Jaric's wrist with fin-gers already numb
with chill. Through the contact the boy felt the deep tremors of shivering
which racked his friend's body. He guessed Telemark's calmness was probably a
brave facade, for the forester understood the gravity of his situation and
Jaric was too perceptive to be fooled.
Whether Telemark sensed the boy's distress could not be told from his manner.
"Did you find the axe?"
"Yes." Jaric swallowed. Determined to remain steady, he continued, though
words came with difficulty. "I'll make a fire."
"Good lad." Telemark released his grip and settled wearily back on the snowy
ground. "The branches on this fallen log appear to be seasoned. Work slowly.
Better I wait for warmth than have you slip with the axe in the dark."
Yet Jaric knew the fire must not be delayed for very long. The wind was
rising. It rattled through the treetops in heavy, whipping gusts, driving snow
before it with stinging force. Unless the boy could shelter Telemark from the
cold, and quickly, the forester would slip into delirium and thence to
unconsciousness. Jaric selected a dead bough. He hefted the axe, swung it
downward with a steadfast stroke, well aware that life depended upon his
Page 139
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
performance. Steel bit into wood with a ringing thump. The branch shivered and
cracked, and snow showered down, sifting wetly over the tops of Jaric's boots.
He jerked the blade free, snapped the limb off with his foot and chopped into
another, knowing if he stopped for a moment, weariness and fear would freeze
him in place.
He worked with no thought of rest. After a time his move-ments settled into a
rhythm entirely independent of thought. The axe handle raised blisters upon
his palms through his mit-tens, but he felt no discomfort. Exhaustion robbed
the sensation of meaning, and his muscles responded mechanically to the needs
of the moment. Only after he had accumulated a sizable pile of branches did
Jaric lay the axe aside. He scooped a hollow in the drift at Telemark's side,
using a stick to scrape the ground clean of snow. Then he hastened down the
em-bankment and returned with an armload of stones, still dripping from the
stream. With shaking hands he lined the depression with rocks, stacked the
wood in the sheltered place at the center, and at long last set to work with
striker and flint.
The storm hampered his efforts. Gusts whirled the sparks away into the dark
and scattered the last dry shavings he had brought in his pouch. Grimly Jaric
drew his knife and carved fresh ones. Snow settled on his wrists as he
whittled, chilling his skin until his bones ached with cold. Telemark had not
stirred for some time. Afraid to find the forester's condition grown worse,
the boy hunched resolutely against the elements. He struck another spark. This
time the chips steamed and caught. Jaric hoarded the flame between his hands
like gold. One twig at a time, he coaxed the fire to grow, all but singeing
his fingers in the process. Then he draped his cloak over an overhanging
branch as a wind break, weighted the hem with two rocks, and bent anxiously
over Telemark. The forester lay with closed eyes, unresponsive to the boy's
touch.
Jaric spoke, though the necessity stung his throat. "Can you feel your feet?"
The forester stirred sluggishly, his answer unintelligibly slurred. Jaric
could only guess at the meaning of the gesture which followed. Cold had begun
to slow Telemark's reflexes, and presently he would no longer be capable of
rational action.
Cognizant of the fact that the forester's situation was critical, Jaric
lifted a brand from the fire. He searched until he located a long sturdy
stick, dragged it back and wedged one end be-tween the logs which trapped
Telemark's foot. Then he leaned every ounce of his weight on the farther end.
The branch creaked under his hands. Dead bark split, baring wood like old bone
in the firelight. Jaric closed his eyes and pulled until his tendons burned
from exertion. The upper log shifted slightly, then re-mained fixed as a
boulder. Jaric coiled his body, heaved the stick in desperation. But the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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in the forester. He had nothing else. Either Telemark spoke truth, or both of
them risked death by exposure in the stormy winter night.
The forester reached out and clasped Jaric's wrist with fin-gers already numb
with chill. Through the contact the boy felt the deep tremors of shivering
which racked his friend's body. He guessed Telemark's calmness was probably a
brave facade, for the forester understood the gravity of his situation and
Jaric was too perceptive to be fooled.
Whether Telemark sensed the boy's distress could not be told from his manner.
"Did you find the axe?"
"Yes." Jaric swallowed. Determined to remain steady, he continued, though
words came with difficulty. "I'll make a fire."
"Good lad." Telemark released his grip and settled wearily back on the snowy
ground. "The branches on this fallen log appear to be seasoned. Work slowly.
Better I wait for warmth than have you slip with the axe in the dark."
Yet Jaric knew the fire must not be delayed for very long. The wind was
rising. It rattled through the treetops in heavy, whipping gusts, driving snow
before it with stinging force. Unless the boy could shelter Telemark from the
cold, and quickly, the forester would slip into delirium and thence to
unconsciousness. Jaric selected a dead bough. He hefted the axe, swung it
downward with a steadfast stroke, well aware that life depended upon his
Page 139
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
performance. Steel bit into wood with a ringing thump. The branch shivered and
cracked, and snow showered down, sifting wetly over the tops of Jaric's boots.
He jerked the blade free, snapped the limb off with his foot and chopped into
another, knowing if he stopped for a moment, weariness and fear would freeze
him in place.
He worked with no thought of rest. After a time his move-ments settled into a
rhythm entirely independent of thought. The axe handle raised blisters upon
his palms through his mit-tens, but he felt no discomfort. Exhaustion robbed
the sensation of meaning, and his muscles responded mechanically to the needs
of the moment. Only after he had accumulated a sizable pile of branches did
Jaric lay the axe aside. He scooped a hollow in the drift at Telemark's side,
using a stick to scrape the ground clean of snow. Then he hastened down the
em-bankment and returned with an armload of stones, still dripping from the
stream. With shaking hands he lined the depression with rocks, stacked the
wood in the sheltered place at the center, and at long last set to work with
striker and flint.
The storm hampered his efforts. Gusts whirled the sparks away into the dark
and scattered the last dry shavings he had brought in his pouch. Grimly Jaric
drew his knife and carved fresh ones. Snow settled on his wrists as he
whittled, chilling his skin until his bones ached with cold. Telemark had not
stirred for some time. Afraid to find the forester's condition grown worse,
the boy hunched resolutely against the elements. He struck another spark. This
time the chips steamed and caught. Jaric hoarded the flame between his hands
like gold. One twig at a time, he coaxed the fire to grow, all but singeing
his fingers in the process. Then he draped his cloak over an overhanging
branch as a wind break, weighted the hem with two rocks, and bent anxiously
over Telemark. The forester lay with closed eyes, unresponsive to the boy's
touch.
Jaric spoke, though the necessity stung his throat. "Can you feel your feet?"
The forester stirred sluggishly, his answer unintelligibly slurred. Jaric
could only guess at the meaning of the gesture which followed. Cold had begun
to slow Telemark's reflexes, and presently he would no longer be capable of
rational action.
Cognizant of the fact that the forester's situation was critical, Jaric
lifted a brand from the fire. He searched until he located a long sturdy
stick, dragged it back and wedged one end be-tween the logs which trapped
Telemark's foot. Then he leaned every ounce of his weight on the farther end.
The branch creaked under his hands. Dead bark split, baring wood like old bone
in the firelight. Jaric closed his eyes and pulled until his tendons burned
from exertion. The upper log shifted slightly, then re-mained fixed as a
boulder. Jaric coiled his body, heaved the stick in desperation. But the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]