The Dark Frontier A. Decker (i like reading TXT) 📖

referred to lay in the loose stonework of the ruined walls and doorways. So they trod gingerly along the pathways towards what must once have been the keep. But for Ellen, a far greater sense of menace hit her when they climbed the stairs and, reaching the top, entered the central tower, where they were instantly plunged into pitch darkness. She could see nothing ahead of her.

“Take my hand,” said Marthe and stretched her right arm back behind her for Ellen to grasp her hand.

Ellen had never been good in the dark. As a child, she had always felt the need to sleep with a light on outside her bedroom, so that at least she would catch a glimmer of light if she woke in the night. But here there was nothing. A complete and absolute absence of any luminescence. Ellen was struck by a brief moment of panic – until she felt Marthe’s soft yet reassuring grip. As they moved through the passage, Ellen was totally dependent on the guiding hand of Marthe, who appeared to have some preternatural awareness of any obstacles ahead of them.

So evidently familiar was she with the terrain that she almost moved too fast for Ellen, who preferred to inch very slowly forward, feeling her way cautiously along the wall with her left hand as her right kept threatening to lose touch with Marthe’s hand. There was a damp mustiness in the air that clawed at her throat. And made the going even slower. It seemed like an eternity before eventually a faint glow emanated from somewhere on the right. Like the glimmer of light she had been so dependent on at night as a child. It revealed the vague outline of broken stones ahead, making progress easier for Ellen. As Marthe guided her closer to the light, she saw that it shone down a narrow stairway from above. Still holding Ellen by the hand, Marthe led her up these steps.

As they both followed the upward twists and turns of the stairway, the glimmer of light grew steadily brighter, making the steps ever simpler for Ellen to negotiate. And as she let go of Marthe’s hand, her companion suddenly leapt the last few steps ahead of her and out onto the very top of the castle ruins. Ellen quickly followed. And felt a staggering sense of release as she surveyed the magnificent vista and breathed in the fresh, clean air.

Behind her to the south, they remained nestled in the forested hills of the Jura, which continued their steep upward trajectory and blocked out any further view. It was plain that this castle must have once been an important defence against marauding hordes from the north, for there before her she had the world at her feet. A panorama that seemed to stretch to infinity.

“It’s quite cloudy today, but you can just make out the hills of the Vosges over there,” said Marthe, her guiding hand now become the needle of a compass pointing northwest. Then swinging forty-five degrees to the right: “And those dark hills rising behind the city are the Black Forest in Germany.”

Ellen paid little attention to the dark hills in the far distance and the grim shadow of cloud that swept over them like a menacing scythe. Her thoughts were on the city below. In the veiled haze, it was barely visible between the rolling hills of the foreground and the bulging highlands on the horizon. But somewhere lost beneath that veil was Frank. She found it so hard to get her head around this idea.

“I can hardly see the city,” she said. “It’s just swallowed up by the mist and the hills.”

“This is Switzerland, Ellen. We don’t build high. We carpet the cities with houses, squat apartment blocks, and tunnels,” Marthe added. “With all our mountains, we’re very good at tunnels. We like to stay close the ground. It’s all part of the safety-first mentality. Hundreds of years ago, the city was destroyed by an earthquake. Perhaps that also explains it a little.”

“But what I find so hard, Marthe, when I look over at the city devoured by the mist is that Frank is somewhere there, swallowed even deeper, out of sight. I can see the mist, and I know he’s there, but I can’t see him. And I just can’t believe that he can go missing like that.”

Marthe took her hand and squeezed it gently. Ellen thrilled at the first tingle of comfort she had felt in what seemed an eternity, until the sudden roar of an aircraft cruelly dashed this sense of respite before it could even take hold. She glanced up to see what she recognised as a BEA plane veering off westwards as it climbed into the sky.

“That’s your flight to London,” said Marthe. “I’m sure you will be on that plane with Frank very soon.”

The image of Frank pulling the door to as he left for the airport just a week ago had etched itself into Ellen’s memory. His mop of thick brown hair and those dark brown eyes peering back around the door as he went. Why had she not gone to Heathrow with him to see him off? She had imagined he would be back home in a few days. But was that sufficient reason to make the excuse that his flight was far too early for her to get up just to see him off? Ok, it might have been his suggestion, but she did not have to go along with it.

All these thoughts were now brought to plague her by the memories that the plane evoked. She watched it veer ever further to the north. And caught the flashbacks of Frank that trailed in its wake. So vivid. Like effigies from a lost civilisation that she could touch, but knew they were no longer part of her life. A cold shiver ran through her body, and she felt quite faint.

“Do you think we could go back down now?” Ellen asked. “I’m