The Last Continent

between the cliffs.
    Snowy reached the bottom in a shower of pebbles and paused for a moment.
    Rincewind risked opening an eye. The little horse’s nostrils flared again as it looked down the narrow canyon. It stamped a hoof uncertainly. Then it looked at the vertiginous far wall, only a few meters away.
    “Oh, no ,” moaned Rincewind. “Please, no…” He tried to untangle his legs but they had met right under the horse’s stomach and twisted their ankles together.
    He must be able to do something to gravity, he told himself, as Snowy trotted up the cliff as though it wasn’t a wall but merely a sort of vertical floor. The corks on his hat brim banged against his nose.
    And ahead… above …was an overhang…
    “No, please , no, please don’t…”
    He shut his eyes. He felt Snowy draw to a halt, and breathed a sigh of relief. He risked a look down, and the huge hooves were indeed standing on solid, flat rock.
    There were no corks hanging in front of Rincewind’s hat.
    In dread and slowly mounting terror, he turned his eyes to what they’d always thought of as upwards.
    There was solid rock above him, as well. Only it was a long way up, or down. And the corks were all hanging upwards, or downwards.
    Snowy was standing on the underside of the overhang, apparently enjoying the view. He flared his nostrils again, and shook his mane.
    He’ll fall off, Rincewind thought. Any minute now he’ll realize he’s upside down and he’ll fall off and from this height a horse’ll splat . On top of me.
    Snowy appeared to reach a decision, and set off again, around the curve of the overhang.
    The corks swung back and hit Rincewind in the face but, hey, all the trees had the green bits pointing up, except that they were the gray bits.
    Rincewind looked across the chasm at the horsemen.
    “G’day!” he said, waving his hat in the air as Snowy set off again. “I think I’m about to have a technicolor snake!” he added, and threw up.
    “’ere, mistah?” someone shouted back.
    “Yes?”
    “That was a chunder!”
    “Right! No worries!”
    It turned out that this piece of land was only a narrow spur between canyons. Another sheer drop loomed up, or down. But to Rincewind’s relief the horse turned aside at the brink and trotted along the edge.
    “Oh, no, please…”
    A tree had fallen down and bridged the gulf. It was very narrow, but Snowy wheeled on to it without slowing.
    Both ends of the tree drummed up and down on the lip of the cliff. Pebbles began to fall away. Snowy bounced across the gap like a small ball and stepped off on the far side just before the tree trunk teetered and dropped on to the rocks.
    “Please, no…”
    There wasn’t a cliff here, just a long slope of loose rocks. Snowy landed among them, and flared his nostrils as the entire slope of scree began to move.
    Rincewind saw the herd gallop past in the narrow canyon bottom, far below.
    Large rocks bounded alongside him as the horse continued down in his own personal landslide. One or two jumped and bounced ahead, smashing on to the canyon floor just behind the last of the herd.
    Numb with fear and the shaking, Rincewind looked further along the canyon. It was blind. The end was another cliff…
    Stone piled into stone, building a rough wall across the canyon floor. As the last boulder slammed into place Snowy landed on top of it, almost daintily.
    He looked down at the penned herd, milling in confusion, and flared his nostrils. Rincewind was pretty sure horses couldn’t snigger, but this one radiated an air of sniggerruity.
    It was ten minutes later that the horsemen rode up. By then the herd was almost docile.
    They looked at the horses. They looked at Rincewind, who grinned horribly and said, “No worries.”
    Very slowly, he didn’t fall off Snowy. He simply swiveled sideways, with his feet still twisted together, until his head banged gently on the ground.
    “That was bloody great riding, mate!”
    “Could someone separate my ankles, please? I fear they may have fused together.”
    A couple of the riders dismounted and, after some effort, pulled him free.
    The leader looked down at him. “Name your price for that little battler, mate!” said Remorse.
    “Er…three…er…squids?” said Rincewind, muzzily.
    “What? For a wiry little devil like that? He’s got to be worth a coupla hundred at least!”
    “Three squids is all I’ve got…”
    “I reckon a few of them rocks hit him on the head,” said one of the stock