Dark Universe

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Pausing beside the hanging needle of rock, Jared tapped it with his lance. Precise, staccatolike tones filled the passageway.

“Hear it?” he coaxed. “It’s right up ahead.”

“I don’t hear a thing.” Owen edged forward, stumbled and fell lightly against Jared’s back. “Nothing but mud and hanging stones.”

“No pits?”

“None that I can hear.”

“There’s one not twenty paces off. Better stick close to me.”

Jared tapped the rock again, inclining an ear so he would miss none of the subtle echoes. There it was, all right — massive and evil as it clung to a nearby ledge listening to their advance.

Ahead were no more needles of rock he could conveniently tap. The last echoes had told him that much. So he produced a pair of clickstones from his pouch and brought them together sharply in the hollow of his hand, concentrating on the returning tones. To his right, his ears traced out great formations of rocks, folded one over the other and reflecting a confusing pattern of sound.

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