Soon the ridge road wove between tenement-tall towers of red-striped rock that hid the way ahead and behind. At least it was fairly level. The team wouldn’t be dragging the heavy wagon uphill. In fact, the ridge reminded him of an active road.
Tawny granite rocks clattered down the slope in front of the team, raising puffs of ruddy dust.
The horses balked.
What was wrong with them? He gently shook the reins.
They stood shivering for a moment before plodding forward.
Was there anything to worry about? He glanced up at the rocky mountain, and down at the valley, far below. Nothing worrisome that he could see. He returned his thoughts to the ridge in front of him.
Now there were fewer boulders blocking his view. This ‘path’ was looking more and more like a frequently-used road. A well-tended thoroughfare leading into the forbidden mountains. Why did the Paduans need a road out in the middle of nowhere?
Lorel cantered back, but her stallion pranced nervously. “Looks like a good campsite a few miles ahead. Tsai’s gone ahead to secure it.” She jerked her chin uphill. “Something’s moving up there.”
“Any chance it’s just an animal?” He flicked the reins and the horses danced a few steps, but walked faster.
“Nah, kid. Even them horses know we got trouble.”
“They’re just nervous because of the rocks.”
She studied the road ahead of them. She stood in the stirrups to stare back the way they had come. “What rocks?” She smirked at him. “This road is as smooth as the toad’s belly.”
Viper glared at her. “A boulder rolls down the hill every now and again.”
“A boulder?” She glanced up the slope. “Get them nags moving, kid. I think we got trouble.”
“You think they’re trying to–”
Two granite boulders roared down the mountainside ahead of them. Clouds of dust and pebbles trailed in their wake.
All three horses plunged and danced, neighing shrilly.
“They’re gonna cut us off if we don’t get outta here!” Lorel reined her horse in a tight circle. It took three go-rounds to calm him.
He shook the reins until they bounced.
The team leaned into the harness.
Gravel rained down on all of them.
The team snorted and shuddered, but pulled with all their might.
The black stallion pranced sideways beside them. Lorel patted his shoulder and crooned at him. “Hey, Nightshade. Easy now, lad.”
Praise the Thunderer the road was smooth and nearly level. He glared up the slope, searching for the perverts who threw stones at helpless horses.
Several smaller rocks clattered on the path behind them.
A desperate scream echoed high above.
Viper glanced up.
A huge chunk of the mountain broke off and slowly slid down the slope. Several human forms tumbled down with it.
Thunder echoed across the valley.
“Avalanche!” Lorel shouted.
“Run!” he screamed. “Lead the way! The team will follow.”
She kicked the terrified stallion in the ribs. The horse reared, lashed out, and plunged into a gallop.
Viper whipped the reins against his horses’ backs. He had to do more than that to help them. But what?
He closed his eyes and shouted: “Wagen leoghtre be!” and willed the wagon to become as light as a racing buggy.
The panicked horses lunged forward, galloping as if they had lost the carriage altogether.
The wagon rattled and swayed, but it stayed on the road. Just barely. It jolted over every pebble on the road as though it had been struck with a war axe. The door banged open, shut, and open again, barely missing his back with each swing.
He bounced across the driver’s bench, hurtled from one side to the other. The seat bounced up and down as though it were on springs.
Lightning strike it. It was on springs now. The blasted new springs were going to launch him clear off the driver’s bench!
He tucked his legs under the seat as best he could and tried to cling with his knees and calves.
Granite glimmered in the sun, crunched under the wheels. Pebbles flew up from galloping hooves and hurled over the driver’s platform.
Boulders careened around them.
Gravel pelted his face. Viper squinted and gritted his teeth. He slapped the reins and yelled, “Run, run, my blue dragons!”
A cougar-sized boulder bashed into the side of the wagon.
The carriage tilted, abruptly rolling on only two wheels.
Viper bounced completely off the seat and skidded headfirst to the edge of the bench. He clung to the reins and tried to wrap his legs back around the seat. He made the mistake of looking over the edge.
The valley floor was a thundering long way down.
He scrabbled at the bench, grabbing at the wood. Sliding off the wagon.
The Kyridon’s head shot through the doorway. Still partly inside the carriage, it wrapped one coil around his chest and dragged him back to the center of the bench.
The wagon pitched back to all four wheels.
The door thudded against the Kyridon’s back. Its pained grunt vibrated through his ribs.
“Thanks.” Air wheezed out of his lungs in a squeaky gust. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath.
It squeezed his chest gently. It loosened its coil, but continued to hold him steady on the bench.
The avalanche thundered toward them.
Viper glanced up at the seething wall of rock. If they couldn’t fly, they were all dead.
Could he make horses fly?
He threw back his head and screamed, “Hrossen gefleogan be!”
The team leapt forward like racehorses. They galloped as though the wagon were wings upon their backs.
Pressure crushed his skull as if a band of iron surrounded him. He fought to push away the pain.
A bahtdor-sized boulder hurtled toward the carriage. That one didn’t have a chance of bouncing off. It would splinter the wagon. Or knock them completely off the ridge.
He threw up his hand in a warding gesture. “Rocca leoghtre be!”
The boulder roared closer.
Gray mist covered his sight. He shook sweat out of his eyes. “Rocca leoghtre be!”
The rock didn’t react, but the carriage slowed. He’d stretched his magic too far. He concentrated on lightening the wagon, and hoped the horses could outrun the boulder.
The granite mass reeled directly at them.
If he didn’t do something, they’d be crushed. But he couldn’t think of another incantation that might help.
“Rocca leoghtre be!” Red haze swirled through his mind. Pain crushed him down onto the bounding seat. He forced his will to focus tightly on the rock. “Rocca leoghtre be!”
The Kyridon released him, reared tall, and hissed at the rock.
The boulder bounced over the wagon, missing it by a finger’s width.
His hair whipped into his face from the wind of its passage. He released the chant on the rock and concentrated on keeping the wagon light.
And still the horses raced on, barely ahead of the spreading avalanche. Rocks thumped against their heaving ribs, against the wagon’s gaudy paint, against Viper’s shaking arms.
Exhaustion rolled over him. He swayed drunkenly.
The wagon wheels grazed the path and jounced against the soil. The seat bucked him into the air like a griddle cake tossed out of a frying pan.
The Kyridon wrapped a coil back around him and steadied him.
Distractions would get them killed. He forced himself to concentrate, to keep the carriage weightless. To compel the horses to fly. Repeating the chant seemed to help, so he whispered it over and over. “Hrossen gefleogan be.”
The road below the wagon collapsed, crumbling into the valley below with a furious roar.
His will fought to disintegrate with it. Hold on. He must hold on. He whispered the chant again. And ag
ain. And again.
The team galloped as though they would never tire.
The gray mist whirled red, mushroomed into black. He clung to the reins and lurched against the Kyridon’s body. Hold on. He had to hold on a little longer.
Thunder rumbled, faded into the distance. Hooves whispered on soft dirt, wood groaned and rattled, shadows swallowed the sun.
The Kyridon squeezed his chest.
His ribs grated. He shook his head, thrust the darkness away. He glanced up the mountainside. They couldn’t be safe yet.
But no more rock fell toward them.
When he was certain the avalanche had ended, he gently tugged on the reins. “Whoa, earth children. Hrossen gefleogan na.”
Hooves pounded against the ground as the team slowed.
He released the chant to lighten the wagon. Again, red mist settled over his eyes. He sank into the Kyridon’s warm embrace, utterly limp. Sweat rolled down his face, tickled down his ribs. His shirt was soaked. Even his coat felt soggy. And he was so thirsty.
The team slowed to a walk. They were lathered, but both horses pranced, ears pricked up and focused on the horse approaching them. Nightshade.
Lorel cantered back to him, stroking her stallion’s neck.
Tsai’dona rode close behind her, wide eyed and visibly trembling.
“Them fraying horses look like they’re in a parade.” Lorel shook her head and looked up the mountain. What was left of the mountain. A huge chunk was missing. “I don’t think the priests are gonna follow us no more.”
If she hadn’t been shaking harder than he was, he’d strangle her. Once he got back his strength. Right now he could scarcely hold up his head.
She turned Nightshade and urged him to walk quietly next to the driver’s platform. She glanced at the Kyridon before mock-glaring at Viper. “You’re wetter than a dish rag. How come you’re sweating worse’n the horses?”
He blinked at her. “Maybe it rained?” A lopsided grin flashed over his face. “How far to that campsite you promised me? I need a bath.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tsai, did I tell you that the kid’s got turtle turds for brains?”
Tsai’dona blew out a shaky breath. “If that was stupid, I don’t want to see him do something smart.”
He leaned back and laughed. His voice faded away.
Lorel groaned. “Not again.”
The world spun into black.
Peaceful, painless black. Maybe he could rest here for a few minutes. Wherever here was.
The wagon’s ghost smiled at him from the darkness. “Well done, young man.”
All he could see were shining teeth and the outline of a plump old man. The sandblasted monster was inside his head, the way RedAdder had been when she attacked him.
But he didn’t feel threatened. Just furious.
“Get out of my mind,” he shouted. “Don’t you ever talk inside my head!”
Dreaming about talking to a dead man was bad enough, but conversing with it against his will while he was awake – wait! If he was talking to it now, had those other conversations been dreams?
The ghost grinned at him and bowed.
The Kyridon hissed at it and hugged Viper closer.
He swung a fist at the dead thing.
The ghost vanished.
His fist landed on Lorel’s belly.
“Hey!” She dropped the team’s reins and grabbed his hand. “What’d I do to deserve that? I’m trying to help.”
“Sorry.” How long had he been out? Long enough for her to climb up on the driver’s bench with him. “The blasted ghost was pestering me.”
She still had one arm around him, supporting him against her body. The Kyridon was gone, probably back inside the wagon. He was surprised she hadn’t carried him inside, too.
“Our ghost, or them priests’ ghosts?” She picked up the reins again and shook them.
The team walked faster.
“Don’t even think about new ghosts. The one we started out with is bad enough.” He snagged the reins out of her hand and tried to push her off the bench. “Go ride your horse and leave me alone.”
She snortled and nudged him back. “Cranky kid. Tsai’s making camp about a mile from here. You awake enough to manage by yourself that long?”
His head was so heavy it wobbled on his neck. His eyes felt crossed. His vision faded in and out, leaving him seeing only glittering, brilliant auras. Intense green and fiery red surrounded Lorel. Blues and purples enveloped the horses like fuzzy, gigantic blankets. Even through the wagon’s heavy door, the Kyridon sparkled like sunlight reflecting off rough water.
He squinted down the hill. A patch of poison oak glimmered as brightly as a dancer on New Year’s day, pink and red with clusters of blue.
Praise the Thunderer they were the only living things nearby, because at the moment he might not be able to pick them out from the plant life.
“Of course I’m fine.” Or well enough to drive. The horses did all the work. He didn’t need to see anything.
She shrugged and slid down to the ground. Seconds later she rode past the wagon, racing headlong up the road.
Viper leaned back against the wagon’s door and shook the reins. The horses paid no attention to him. He ignored them back. He had a far more serious problem.
How could he get rid of a pesky ghost?
***
They finished setting up camp inside a box canyon a couple of hours later. Snow sizzled on the cook fire he’d coaxed into burning and melted on the lid of the boiling pot of rice.
Viper glanced into the darkness above the canyon walls. “I’m glad you insisted on camping in here.” They weren’t nearly far enough from the avalanche to feel safe, but he was too tired to go on.
Lorel shrugged. “Good grazing in the meadow out there, and these rocks looked safe. I thought it would rain, though. I hate snow.”
Tsai’dona held out her hand. “Oh, that’s what it is. I’ve never seen snow before.”
Snowflakes settled on her palm, and on the pine needles and rocks surrounding the camp. If it didn’t stop soon, they’d be in trouble.
Viper huddled a little closer to the flames and pretended that the skillet of stewing jerky needed his attention. His sweaty coat still wasn’t entirely dry, and the cold crept through the seams like tiny knives.
Lorel sipped at her beer and chuckled at him. “It ain’t hardly cold yet, kid.”
“I think the only things that bother you are insects.” He shook his spoon at her. “Be nice or I’ll find a bug to come and chew on you.”
Something howled in distance.
Tsai’dona shivered. “What was that?”
Lorel glanced up. “Sounds like my father when I came home late from the market.”
“Your father isn’t that bad.” He stirred the disgusting contents of the skillet. Lumpy gravy slopped over the side and hissed onto the coals. Tonight’s dinner wouldn’t be one of his better efforts. Could he talk the girls into letting him add some vinegar?
“You never had to live with him.” She rubbed her forehead and grimaced. “I never could make him happy.”
Viper quirked an eyebrow at her. “I bet he was happy with your work on my mandolin.”
Lorel smirked. “Yeah, he got a right kick out of them carvings.”
Tsai’dona nodded. “I like all the little faces you whittled on it.”
“Even Trevor noticed.” He took the lid off the rice, which looked done enough. He pulled the pot off the fire. “Did I tell you he was impressed with your work?”
“Snip my thread!” She saluted him with her mug. “He never.”
“You’d have been one thundering instrument maker if you’d put your heart into it.”
She frowned and chucked a pebble at him. “I hated sitting still so long. I always needed to go run or climb trees or swing my sword.”
That was still true. The only time he saw her sit quietly was at meals. He filled two bowls with rice, layered most of the jerky grav
y on top, and handed a bowl and a wooden spoon to each girl. “Not much sword work out here.”
Lorel shrugged. “I went to the sword school in the swamp. I figure now I’m doing mountain survival training.” She shoved a spoonful of gravy into her mouth.
Tsai’dona rolled her eyes. “Like there’s a great need for that.”
Viper laughed and filled a bowl for himself. “The Dragon’s Eye Range Survival School. That sounds almost as impressive as the Gyrfalcon Sword School. What perfect training for a weapons-merchant’s guard.”
“Ain’t like you need a guard out here, kid.” Lorel eyed his half-full bowl. “Ain’t no robbers hereabouts.”
Another howl echoed through the hills.
Viper looked up from his dinner. “Unless the Paduans followed us.”
“That ain’t Paduans, that’s some critter. Maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll eat the toad.” She stuffed another spoonful of gravy-coated rice into her mouth.
How could she eat that crap? Well, she didn’t seem to be tasting it. “What’s wrong between you and the Kyridon?”
“Nothing wrong, exactly.” Lorel chewed a bite of jerky and shrugged. “I just can’t understand most of what it says.”
“It speaks exactly the way Trevor did.” He poked at his dinner. It was almost as bad as the stew the old sorcerer had made him bury.
“I couldn’t understand old Trevor’s talk, neither.” Lorel scraped the last grain of rice out of her bowl. “Loom-tangling toad talks like a sorcerer, I guess. Maybe that’s why you like the legless lizard so much. You don’t even chase girls like a normal boy.”
Viper feigned a wounded face and held his wrist to his temple. “You think I should run after Poppy more often?”
Lorel threw back her head and roared with laughter. The sheaths of her swords clattered against the stony ground.
“Don’t you think Periwinkle might object?” Tsai’dona asked.
“Noodle brain!” Lorel doubled up and cackled like a broody hen who’d laid a teacup-sized egg.
“Nightshade, now. I’m certain I don’t want to think about what he’d do to me if I chased after Poppy.” Viper waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously.
Serpent's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 3) Page 16
