A solid five inches of snow had fallen since they turned onto the herd’s trail. He couldn’t see it anymore.
For that matter, he couldn’t see much of anything except his gloves.
He spread his fingers a little wider.
A dark shape materialized ahead of the team. Nightshade. What a relief. Lorel had finally come back to guide him.
The dark figure threw back its head and bugled.
“Thunderer’s dice! That’s not a horse.” He scrabbled at his knees, trying to locate the reins.
Poppy screamed a challenge.
The biggest deer he’d ever seen stalked toward the wagon. Elk? That must be an elk. It matched the drawings in Exotic Creatures of the Dragon’s Eye Range, except it didn’t have any antlers. Could it be an antlerless variation? Should he stop and write about it? His notebook was inside his cloak, but he’d wager his ink was frozen again.
The elk tossed up its head and bugled again.
Both horses reared and screamed back.
The creature charged toward them.
Lightning blast it! He needed a weapon. Any kind of weapon. He didn’t want to throw his eating knife at the beast. It probably wouldn’t even notice, if by some miracle he managed to hit it. It wouldn’t notice his ink pen or his notebook, either. What else did he have?
The team pranced forward, dragging the wagon sideways.
The elk paused, lowered its head, and pawed at the snow.
He scooped up a double handful of snow from the driver’s platform and squeezed it into a tight snowball.
Ice pelted his face. Steam hissed out of his lungs, obscuring his vision even more. His heart tried to hammer its way out of his chest.
Black eyes the size of dragon eggs glared directly at him, ignoring the horses.
Viper hurled the snowball with all of his strength.
Snow exploded on the elk’s forehead. The animal dropped back on its haunches and shook its head violently.
Whooooo.
The hair on his neck stood upright.
The elk looked over its shoulder, up the slope.
Whooooo. The sound was eerie, halfway between a honk and a cow’s lowing moo. What kind of predator howled like that?
The horses stamped and whinnied.
He clamped his teeth hard to stop their clattering. His hands trembled, leaving him as awkward as an unweaned toddler. He scooped up another handful of snow. Not that a snowball would stop a real predator, but he had to do something. His hands shook so hard he had trouble packing the snow.
The elk lurched to its feet and snorted in what sounded like disgust. It trotted up the slope.
Why had it abandoned its attack?
Something moved farther up the mountain. Three smaller elk glared down at him.
“Light a candle to the Wind Dancer.” He set the snowball on the bench next to him and snatched up the reins. “Let’s get out of the harem, earth children.” He tugged on the reins, and hoped the ridge was somewhere to the right. Hoped the team could find it.
Periwinkle snorted and shook like a wet dog. Poppy nickered and nuzzled him. They leaned into the harness and trudged forward.
He molded several more snowballs from the snow coating the driver’s bench, but soon the wind blew so hard he could only hold his hood tight to his face to block stinging ice pellets.
***
Poppy whinnied.
Viper squinted into the howling blizzard and searched for whatever had alarmed the mare. Only a rabid wolf would be out such a storm. He hoped she was just complaining. In all fairness, both horses had a lot to complain about.
Something moved. Something large, he thought, but he couldn’t tell what it was through the blowing snow. A sapling shifting in the wind? Another elk?
Another Paduan, following his trail?
Periwinkle pranced sideways into Poppy. He threw up his head and screamed like a warhorse.
A dark shape rushed at the team.
Viper snatched up a snowball and threw it blindly.
The monster screeched.
He grabbed another snowball, lobbed it hard, and seized another.
Every demon in all the Kerovi hells screamed in unison, shrill even above the yammering wind.
Gritting his teeth, he flung several more snowballs. What would it take to stop the monster?
Black-shrouded demons hurtled closer.
He reached out for another snowball. Nothing. He felt around the bench. Loose snow met his gloved fingers.
He’d run out of ammunition.
His heart thudded against his throat. Why hadn’t he collected more snowballs? Or some sort of weapon? He’d gotten lazy, traveling with bodyguards. If he survived this attack, he’d be more careful. The girls were never around when he needed them.
He leaned down to scoop up more snow from the platform under his boots. There was enough snow there for a few more missiles.
What he’d do after that, he didn’t know. His mind raced for a way to protect the horses. He couldn’t build a shield that big. Could he enchant some sticks fast enough? But he had to see them to enchant them. And he couldn’t see anything but snow.
Poppy shoved at Periwinkle and nickered.
Viper pounded together another snowball and pitched it at his attacker.
“Weaver crush the Loom, you noodle brain!”
He sat up and peered into the wind. “Lorel? Is that you, pine tree?”
“Who did you think it was?” The dark shape sidled closer. “The snow dragon?”
“The what?” He reached down and felt around his boots until he found the reins. His fingers were stiff and numb from the icy wind, and he had trouble holding onto the stiff leather. Not that the team needed his guidance. “Where have you been, bahtdor bait?”
“Looking for you, you miswoven turtle turd!” Lorel finally urged her horse close enough that Viper could recognize them. “Nightshade ain’t never gonna forgive you. Me neither, for that matter. What’d you hit us with? Why ain’t you on the ridge?”
“What ridge? All I see is snow.”
Silence, except for the howling wind.
Lorel chuckled. “Maybe you got a point. Come on, noodle brain. I know the way back. And we found a safe place to camp.”
Praise the Thunderer somebody knew where they were. “Lead on, pine tree. We’ll do our best to follow you.”
Chapter 15.
Finally, in early spring, or what would be spring in Zedista, according to his calendar, the mountains gave way to snow-dusted, ice-white sand.
One moment, Viper was guiding the wagon through a narrow canyon, and the next, the cliff walls ended, showing dune-swept sand to the horizon.
Seagulls screeched high above him. A slow roar pounded against his ears. The air stank of brine and dead fish.
Everything looked dead.
“Ain’t this neat?” Lorel bellowed as she raced back to the wagon. Still eager to run, the stallion pranced when she reined him in. “This gotta be Land’s End!”
“Land’s End?” He let the reins in his hands sag. The team wandered to a halt. “Looks more like the end of the world, to me. What a desert. Sand and snow and death.”
“This assembly is near Land’s End.” The Kyridon’s head pushed up the door and hovered beside Viper’s shoulder. “However, this one hypothesizes a protracted interval will elapse before the swordling observes Land’s End.”
At last, some answers from the contrary creature. Viper stuffed the carved chunk of wood under the door to prop it up. He didn’t want to miss anything it chose to reveal.
Lorel sighed. “How many days, toad? Guess.”
“This one estimates ten diurnal periods.” The serpent backed its snout out of her reach. “Conceivably twenty.”
“Weaver toss the Shuttle.” She turned her black horse and kneed him into a gallop. The stallion kicked up his heels and raced with the wind.
In the distance, Tsai’dona waved, but reined her horse around and galloped away.
> Viper chuckled. The little mare didn’t have a chance of outrunning Lorel’s long-legged stallion, even with that big of a head start.
The strange, indistinct roar worried him. Was it a volcano? Or a new monster? “What’s making that sound?”
The serpent tilted its head. “Does not the hatchling recognize the susurrus? But the hatchling was not nurtured near the ocean, and therefore does forget. The swordling recollected the reverberation.”
“The ocean?” The rhythmic growl pounded its way into his mind. “I suppose it is. I hadn’t realized we were so close.”
“This assemblage is on the periphery of the peninsula which terminates at Land’s End.” The Kyridon eased back under the door. “The wanderers approach the commencement of the undertaking, but this one is deficient in confidence that the sproutlings are prepared to complete the objective.”
What did it mean by that? “We’re as ready as we’re liable to get.”
“This one dissents. This one deems that after the Weapons are made, the initiates must obtain considerable instruction, which this one is unable to provide.” It retreated into the wagon. “Without further education of the candidates, the quest will fail.”
“We will not fail!” Viper yanked the block out and slammed the door shut. He sucked in a deep breath and hissed it out. Now, after all these lunars of travel, it tells him they don’t have everything they need? Couldn’t it have mentioned it sooner?
He was doing the best he could with the little help the serpent offered. Reading all of his books – twice in some cases – and practicing the chants he remembered didn’t seem to be enough. He sighed and jiggled the reins.
The team minced onto the sand.
They didn’t like the conditions any better than he did. He hoped there was grass in this dead land. Their supply of grain wouldn’t last much longer.
The dunes proved to be more alive than he’d imagined. White and gray gulls swooped through the air, briefly inspecting the wagon before searching on for more interesting game. Silver skeletons of twisted pines crept up through the snow, mute witnesses to the harshness of the land.
One tree lived. A stunted pitch pine hugged the dune, spreading slowly across the shifty sands.
Stunted, like him. How very much like him. Living small and flat against the ground, praying the uncaring world wouldn’t swallow it alive. But he would stand proud. Even if he never did manage to stand tall.
The team followed in the riding horses’ tracks, and he watched for fodder for all the horses. It was spring, more or less. Something must be growing.
The roar grew louder, so he knew he was nearing the ocean. Shouldn’t there be beach grass? He loosened the reins and let the roans wander where they would. Immediately, they drifted to the left.
A graceful fountain of gray green hid among the sand dunes, almost invisible. Soon he counted several clumps of grass. He smiled and leaned back. He could trust the horses to find their own supper.
The drooping blade tips of the beach grass swung in the wind, drawing interlacing circles in the snow-crusted sand. The long fibrous blades looked tough, but the horses munched on them happily, jostling each other while trying to grab a bite in passing.
“Slow down, earth children.” He reined them to a halt and climbed down from the wagon. If only he could unhitch the team. But like the pine, he was far too short. “If that stuff is good enough for you, we’ll just take a little break right here.” He eased the bit out of each huge mouth, but left their bridles in place. His fingers were too numb to unfasten the buckles.
The roans wandered through the nearby clumps, tearing up enormous mouthfuls of grass and eating it hungrily.
Lorel charged back across the beach and gave him a hard look. “Why’d you stop here? This ain’t a good place to camp, and it’s way too early, besides.”
“Have you considered that these poor beasts haven’t had a decent meal in days?” He stared meaningfully at the stallion’s ribs. “Nightshade might look better if he didn’t look like a hag’s hobby.”
Lorel’s wind-chapped face turned several shades redder. She leaped out of the saddle and gently pulled the bridle off her horse’s head. “Get some meat on your bones, my lad.” She uncinched the saddle while the stallion devoured tough grass.
Viper spread the tail of his cloak across the icy sand and sat on it. The team deserved an hour to enjoy their lunch. He deserved a nap. Until Lorel left, anyway. Then he’d read for a while.
Tsai’dona rode up and blinked at the loose horses, but quickly stripped the bridle of her mare. “I wish I’d thought of that. Sumach kept pulling at the grass, but I wasn’t paying attention.”
Lorel shrugged. “Same here.” She ambled over and sat down beside Viper. “Look at this place. So wild and free and wonderful. Ain’t it romantic?”
Somehow she’d gotten sand on her face. Little bugs fluttered around her nose and mouth.
In the swamps, she’d hated the insects that pestered her. Viper reached out and brushed both sand and bugs from her cheek.
Her eyes widened comically, but immediately narrowed. She screeched a war bellow.
And punched him on the nose.
***
“This one does not comprehend why it was compulsory for the swordling to injure the hatchling.”
Viper opened his eyes, and wished he hadn’t. The world was indecently bright. His head hurt. Something painfully cold was plastered to his face.
Lavender mist smeared his sight.
“You fish-brained lizard,” Lorel shouted. “You just can’t understand anything between guys and gals. I ain’t gonna explain it again. Besides, I didn’t mean to hit him so hard. Just that he shocked me.”
“Shocked you?” Viper blinked up at her. “Like the deathwind, you turtle turd. What did I do to I shock you?” He tried to sit up, but the world spun wildly. Lying still seemed like a better plan.
Lorel’s face flamed crimson. “Oh, try to play innocent, will you?” She raised her clenched fists.
“What are you talking about?” He touched his face and discovered that it was plastered with snow. Something warm and salty trickled down his throat, gagging him. It couldn’t be blood.
He forced the purple mist away from him.
“The hatchling has not ceased to hemorrhage.” The Kyridon eased a furry coil under his shoulders. “The hatchling must leave the compress in position.”
“My poor nose.” If he couldn’t control the blood magic, his nose was the least of his problems.
“At least it ain’t broken.” Lorel glared down at him. “If you’d stayed awake I’d’ve smacked you worse.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to turn his back on her, but the Kyridon held him still.
“You do, too,” she bellowed.
“He might not.” Tsai’dona stretched out one hand, but didn’t offer to touch her. Smart girl. The turybird was homicidal.
“He gotta!” Lorel stalked away. “That’s why I hit him.”
“If you go hitting people for no reason, nobody is going to have anything to do with you. I certainly won’t.” He swallowed more of the salty liquid and wished the world would stand still. He was getting terribly dizzy.
“No reason? I ain’t gonna put up with you coming on to me!” Lorel stomped away a few steps, but came back and glared down at him. “I ain’t playing loose woman for you.”
Loose woman? What was she talking about? He’d only touched her face. Did she think he’d attack her? As if he could hurt her, even in her sleep. Or ever would. “I thought you liked me.” He turned on his side and curled into a ball.
“The hatchling must lie prone.” The Kyridon looped a coil over his shoulders and forced him to lie flat.
Tsai’dona crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at the overgrown turtle turd. Good, she was on his side for a change.
Lorel blinked at her before turning back to him. “I do like you, kid. But you’re more a little brothe
r to me than any of my brothers was. I ain’t gonna let you treat me like that.”
Like what? Like a friend? Like someone he rather cared about?
The Kyridon hissed at the tall skinny sandcrab.
Tsai’dona shook her head and sighed ostentatiously.
Viper moaned and tried to ignore all three of them. Their histrionics were giving him a headache. A worse headache.
Lorel snarled and stomped over to her horse. She slid the bridle over its head – gently, oddly enough – and tightened the saddle girth.
Tsai’dona sighed again, but bridled her mare. The poor horse laid back her ears snatched at the tough grass.
Lorel mounted her horse, sneered at him over her shoulder, leaned forward in the saddle, and kicked the stallion into a gallop.
Tsai’dona and her mare did their best to keep up.
Sand kicked up by the horses’ hooves sprayed over him.
He sat up and touched his bruised face with cautious fingertips. The snow had all melted, and the damage wasn’t all that bad. “I’ve stopped bleeding. Let me go.” He struggled out of the Kyridon’s coils and climbed up to the driver’s bench. “Get back inside where it’s warm. Warmer. No need for both of us to be miserable.”
The serpent dipped its head in that odd, shrug-like gesture, and slithered up to the bench and inside the wagon.
The team wandered onward, from clump to clump of grass, moving only as fast as they could devour it. He didn’t ask them to hurry. What was the point?
The wagon eased closer to the shore. Sooner or later he’d see the seawall. Or, rather, the natural cliff that acted as a seawall. He desperately wanted to know how tall it was. From his natural history reading, this much sand meant the waves spilled over the top during every Alignment, just like they did in Kresh.
They probably should camp up in the mountains when Alignment time grew near. But he had another lunar before he had to battle Lorel about it. The lightning-blasted sand lizard.
Why had that chunk of rotting bahtdor bait hit him?
The roar of the ocean grew louder, but he couldn’t find any sign of a cliff. There was glittering white sand and frothy turquoise water, but no seawall.
Serpent's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 3) Page 22
