Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [108]
Galdar glanced at Rhys. “I told you help would find you.”
The elves were now more mystified than before, but they obeyed Elspeth’s silent command and made preparations to leave.
“I hope you will honor us with your company, Servant of Matheri,” said the leader to Rhys, who gave his grateful assent.
Galdar held out his left hand, grasped Rhys’s hand in a crushing grip. “Farewell, Brother.”
Rhys clasped the minotaur’s hand in both his own. “May your journey be a safe one and swift.”
“It will be swift, at least,” Galdar stated grimly. “The faster we’re away from this accursed place, the better.”
He bellowed orders that were quickly obeyed. The minotaur soldiers marched off, as eager as their commander to leave Neraka.
But Galdar did not immediately follow them. He stood still for a moment, gazing west, deep into the mountains.
“Godshome,” he said. “It lies in that direction.”
“So I have been told,” Rhys said.
Galdar nodded to himself and continued to stare into the distance, as if trying to catch some last glimpse of Mina. Sighing, he lowered his gaze, shook his horned head.
“Do you think we will ever find out what happens to her, Brother?” he asked wistfully.
“I don’t know,” Rhys answered evasively
In his heart, he feared very much that they would.
2 Kender with Horns
althonis and Mina walked slowly to Godshome, taking their time, for each knew that no matter what happened, what choice Mina made, this would be their final journey together.
The two had talked of many things for many hours, but now Mina had fallen silent. Godshome was only about ten miles from Neraka, but the road was difficult, steep and winding and narrow—a rock-strewn, desolate track forced to pick its way among steep canyon walls, constrained by strange rock formations to take them in directions they did not want to go.
The sky was dark and overcast, obscured by the steamy snortings of the Lords of Doom. The air stank of sulfur and was hard to breathe, drying the mouth and stinging the nostrils.
Mina soon grew weary. She did not complain, however, but continued walking. Valthonis told her she could take her time. There was no hurry.
“You mean I have all eternity before me?” Mina said to him with a twisted smile. “That is true, Father, but I feel compelled to go on. I know who I am, but now I must now find out why. I can no longer rest easy in the twilight.”
She carried with her the two artifacts she had brought from the Hall of Sacrilege. She held them fast in her hand and would not relinquish them, though their burden sometimes made traversing the steep trail difficult for her. When she finally gave in and sat down to rest, she unwrapped the artifacts and gazed down at them, studying them, taking up each in turn and holding it in her hands, running her fingers over them as would a blind man trying to use his hands to see what his sightless eyes cannot. She said nothing about her thoughts to Valthonis, and he did not ask.
As they drew nearer Godshome, the Lords of Doom seemed to release their hold on the travelers, sanctioning their going. The path grew easier to walk, led them down a gentle slope. A warm breeze, like spring’s breath, blew away the sulfur fumes and the steam. Wild flowers appeared along the trail, peeking out from beneath boulders, or growing in the cracks of a stone wall.
“What is wrong?” Valthonis asked, calling a halt, when he noticed that Mina had begun to limp.
“I have a blister,” she answered.
Sitting down on the path, she drew off her shoe, looking with exasperation at the raw and bloody wound.
“The gods play at being mortal,” she said. “Chemosh could make love to me and receive pleasure from the act—or so he convinced himself. But in truth, they can only