Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [55]
Twisting, he pulled his sword, and drove the tip deep into the snow, cursing as the blade slipped from the icy crust. But gradually, the momentum of the slide slowed as the slope grew less steep. Finally, he managed to stick the blade of his sword deep enough into the subsurface to drag him to a halt. Snow still tumbled past him, and he heard it splashing into the lake below.
Tristan’s gray mare slid past, screaming in terror and scrambling for a foothold. The creature splashed into the icy water and disappeared under tons of heavy snow. The slide had narrowed, and the prince now lay just outside its path. Exhausted and barely conscious, he saw Robyn tumble limply past. As the snow carried her into the lake, however, she sprang free and splashed into the water, well away from the avalanche. Swimming strongly, she made her way to shore.
And then his other companions passed, seemingly in a single mass of horses, humans – and halfling. Pawldo clung to the neck of his pony as the animal hit the water and swam away. Daryth and the other horses stopped close to the water’s edge as the slide’s momentum finally dissipated.
“Are you all right?” called the Calishite up the hill.
“I think so,” replied Tristan. He saw Robyn climb from the lake, and the rest of the horses swim to shore, Pawldo still clinging desperately to his pony.
“Have you seen the dogs?”
“No,” answered Daryth, concerned. “Wait – look up there!”
Tristan turned to see the hounds bounding down the slope, next to the path of the slide. They had somehow managed to break free of the avalanche while it was still high upon the mountain, and now made their way to the companions.
They had lost only one horse – Tristan’s – in the slide, but all of the prince’s extra clothing had been strapped to the unfortunate steed. Robyn pulled several woolen cloaks from her saddlebags. Though the material was still sodden, they were able to huddle underneath them and gradually feel warm.
“One thing’s for certain,” announced the prince, looking up the slope they had descended so precipitously. “If we’re going to leave Myrloch Vale, it’ll have to be by a different route!”
The others, too, looked up the steep slope and were silent, until Robyn, sounding almost cheerful, said, “At least not until the snow melts. And that won’t be for a couple more months.”
“Cheerful thought,” moaned Pawldo. “I knew we should -”
“There’s Sable!” cried Robyn, cutting short the halfling’s lament. “He’s not far away!”
Tristan realized that their slide, while dangerous, had carried them in several minutes over ground that would have taken the rest of the day to cross by more conventional means. The great falcon circled several miles away, still over the fens they had seen from the summit.
“Let’s go,” the prince suggested, and they quickly adjusted their gear to resume the march.
The snow cover diminished as they picked a steadily descending trail among a lush forest of aspens. In several hours, they dropped more than a thousand feet, and soon walked along a dry dirt trail. But soon the aspens withered and thinned, and the wildflowers became nonexistent. The path dropped farther, finally ending at the edge of a murky pond. All around sprawled a wasteland of fetid pools, rank grasses, and soggy turf. Occasional copses of stunted trees broke the landscape, but even these looked scraggly and unhealthy.
“Let’s stop and camp,” suggested Tristan. “Hear, hear!” agreed the halfling. “You won’t get me into those fens at night! I smell sorcery.”
“We must go on,” pleaded Robyn, “for Keren’s sake! It can’t be much farther!”
“They’re right,” said Daryth, nodding to Pawldo and Tristan. “It would be madness to enter that swamp in the dark of night.”
Robyn turned away, and for a moment they wondered if she would plunge into the fens without them. Then, she sighed and looked back.
“You’re right. Why don’t we try to build a little fire and dry out? But we move at first light, all right?”
The others agreed, and they set about making camp. Tristan built