Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [51]
They met several parties of kender, who were either leaving Flotsam (forcibly) or heading in that direction. The kender stopped to chat with Nightshade, exchanging the latest news and gossip. He questioned them about the road ahead, and received an enormous amount of information, some of it accurate.
Their most interesting encounter was with a group of gnomes whose steam-powered perambulating combination threshing machine, dough-kneader, and bread-baker had run amuck and was lying in pieces on the side of the road. This meeting caused considerable delay as Rhys stopped to tend to the victims.
All this excitement occupied the better part of the day. Mina was happy and well-behaved and eager to meet more gnomes. They made an early stop for the night. The weather being fine, they camped outdoors, and Mina thought that was great fun at first, though she didn’t think much of it around midnight when she discovered she’d made her bed on an ant hill.
Consequently, she was cross and grumpy the next morning, and her mood did not improve. The farther they traveled from Flotsam, the fewer people they met along the road until eventually there was no one but themselves. The scenery consisted of empty stretches of vacant land enlivened by a few scraggly trees. Mina grew bored and began to complain. She was tired. She wanted to stop. Her boots pinched her toes. She had a blister on her heel. Her legs ached. Her back ached. She was hungry. She was thirsty.
“So when are we going to get there?” she asked Rhys, lagging along beside him, scuffing her feet in the dust.
“I’d like to cover a few more miles before it grows dark,” Rhys said. “Then we’ll make camp.”
“No, not camp!” Mina said. “I mean Godshome. I’m really tired of walking. Will we be there tomorrow?”
Rhys was trying to think how to explain that it might well be a year of tomorrows before they reached Godshome when Atta gave a sharp bark. Her ears pricked, she stared intently down the road.
“Someone’s coming,” said Nightshade.
A horse and rider were heading in their direction, traveling at a fast pace to judge by the pounding hoofbeats. Rhys took hold of Mina’s hand and hurriedly drew her to the side of the road, to get out of the way of the horse’s hooves. He could not yet see the rider, due to a slight dip in the road. Atta remained obediently at Rhys’s side, but she continued to growl. Her body quivered. Her lip curled.
“Whoever’s coming, Atta doesn’t like them,” Nightshade observed. “That’s not like her.”
Accustomed to traveling, Atta tended to be friendly with strangers, though she kept herself aloof and would submit to being petted only if there was no way to avoid it. She was warning them against this stranger, however, even before she saw him.
The horse and rider topped the ridge and, sighting them, increased speed, galloping down the road toward them. The rider was cloaked in black. His long hair streamed behind him in the wind.
Nightshade gasped. “Rhys! That’s Chemosh! What do we do?”
“Nothing we can do,” Rhys replied.
The Lord of Death reined in his horse as he drew near. Nightshade looked about wildly for someplace to hide. They were caught out in the open, however. Not a tree or a gully in sight.
Rhys ordered Atta to be quiet and she obeyed for the most part, though the occasional growl got the better of her. He drew Mina close to him, holding his staff in front of her with one hand, keeping his other hand protectively on her shoulder. Nightshade stood stolidly by his friend’s side. Reminding himself he was a kender with horns, he assumed a very fierce look.
“Who is that man?” Mina asked, gazing at the black-cloaked rider curiously. She twisted her head around to look up Rhys. “Do you know him?”
“I know him,” Rhys replied. “Do you know him, Mina?”
“Me?” Mina was amazed. She shook her head. “I never saw him before.”
Chemosh dismounted his horse and began walking