Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [100]
Not shadows, he determined. Or ghosts. There are people down there and they must be those I was told to meet.
There was the monk in the orange robes who was said to be Mina’s escort. But, if so, where was Mina?
“Blast and damn this cursed place!” Galdar said in sudden anger.
He’d been assured Mina would be with the monk, but he saw no sign of her. He hadn’t understood why she should be traveling with a monk anyway. He hadn’t liked this from the beginning and he was liking it less and less.
Removing a length of rope from his belt, Galdar ordered Valthonis to hold out his hands.
“I gave you my word I wouldn’t try to escape,” Valthonis said quietly.
Galdar grunted and tied the rope securely around the elf’s slender wrists. Tying the knot wasn’t easy for the one-armed minotaur. Galdar had to use his teeth to finish the job.
“Bound or not, I can’t escape her,” Valthonis added. “And neither can you, Galdar. You’ve always known Mina was a god, haven’t you?”
“Shut up,” Galdar ordered savagely.
Grasping the elf roughly by the arm, Galdar shoved Valthonis forward.
The next lightning flash was not a bolt, but a sheet of flame that lit the sky and the ground and the mountains with a purple white radiance. Silhouetted against the awful glow, a figure moved toward them, walking calmly through the raging storm, seeming untouched by the gale, unmoved by the lightning, unafraid of the thunder.
“What are you called?” Galdar demanded.
“My name is Mina.”…
He had sung her name. They had all sung her name. All those like himself who had followed her to battle and glory and death.
“You did this,” Takhisis raved. “You connived with them to bring about my downfall. You wanted them to sing your name, not my own.”
Mina … Mina …
eeping one hand on Mina’s shoulder, Rhys glanced around to where Nightshade was pointing. He could see the minotaur troops, now leaving the ridgeline, marching away. Two people entered the valley. One was a minotaur wearing the emblem of Sargonnas emblazoned on his leather armor. One was an elf whose hands were bound.
Too late to flee, even if there had been any place to go. The minotaur had spotted them.
The minotaur was armed with a sword, which he wore on his right hip, for his right arm—his sword arm—was missing. He had not drawn his weapon, but he kept his left hand hovering near it. His keen eyes fixed a suspicious gaze on Rhys, then left him and flicked over the rest of the group. His scowl deepened. The minotaur was searching for Mina.
The elf wore simple clothing—green cloak and tunic, well-worn boots, dusty from the road. He was not armed, and though he was obviously the minotaur’s prisoner, he walked with his head up, taking long, graceful, purposeful strides, as one who is accustomed to walking many roads.
The Walking God. Rhys recognized Valthonis, and was about to call out a warning, when he was drowned out by the minotaur’s roar.
“Mina!”
Her name rang out across the valley and bounded off the Lords of Doom, who cast it back in eerie echoes, as though the bones of the world were crying out to her.
Galdar!” Mina gave a glad shout.
She knocked Rhys aside, hitting him a blow that was like being hit by a lightning bolt. He sagged, stunned, to the ground, unable to move.
“Galdar!” Mina cried again, and ran to him with outstretched arms. .
Mina was no longer a child. She was a girl, seventeen years old. Her head was shorn like a sheep at shearing. She wore the breastplate of those who called themselves Knights of Neraka, and it was charred and dented and stained with blood, as were her hands and arms up to the elbows. Reaching Galdar, she flung her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.
The minotaur clasped her with his good arm, held her close. Two furrows in the fur on either side of his snout marked the overflow of his feelings.
Seeing that they were both occupied, Nightshade crept over to kneel beside Rhys.
“Are you all right?” Nightshade whispered.