Page 99 of Fires of the Forsaken
She pricked her ears and gave me an affectionate head-butt.
“Uh-uh, it’s too late to butter me up. You almost got me killed.” But I patted her forehead before I clambered back into the saddle. Because shewaspretty damn cute.
An hour later, after several more horses slipped, we had to concede defeat. And slowing to a walk meant sacrificing a night of sleep. We stopped for only two hours, mostly to re-shoe the horses, check them for injuries, and to give them a breather.
The monsoon ended when the sun rose the next morning andpoofedthe storm clouds away. A crystal-clear sky stretched overhead.
But the day turned hot and muggy and, with the water-saturated ground, it became a bug’s paradise. Flies buzzed incessantly around the horses, biting their ears, legs, and the undersides of their bellies. Even picking up the pace didn’t help. The little bastards flew as fast as a horse cantered.
Sacrifice’s tail swished and swashed as she fought a losing battle against the bugs. Gnats formed a halo around my face. They flew in my eyes, tried to go up my nose, and droned in my ears.Nothingdeterred them. They didn’t give two shits if you swatted at them. And killing them? Ha. That was about as good as slapping a sugar-coated sign on your back that saidbug murderer.Once you killed one, thousands more came out of nowhere to exact revenge.
When the sun set and we made camp for the night, no one got much rest. Because the skeeters (aka, mosquitos) were awake and ready to party. And ooh boy, they feasted well on my flesh.
“Fricking skeeters,” I grumbled as I swatted the one on my thigh. Fucker had sucked blood right through the fabric of my pants.
“Here.” Cheriour knelt next to the tree I was sitting against and held out a bouquet of purple flowers.
I pursed my lips. “Aww, that’s so sweet. What’s the occasion?”
His hair was almost sticking straight up (humidity and coarse hair didn’t mix well), which gave him a bit of a Gene Wilder asWilly Wonka look. Especially when he shook his head and said, “What?”
“You’re handing me flowers,” I chuckled. “See, back home, guys give girls flowers for special occasions. So, what’s the special occasion? Surviving my first horseback road trip in a monsoon?”
Cheriour maintained his stony expression. “It’s lavender. It’ll help repel the bugs.”
“Ah.” I plucked a handful of flowers from his hand. “Lavender.Y’know, I used lavender-scented stuff all the time back home, but this smellswaybetter. Guess that’s what happens when it’sau naturel. Hmm.” Ilovedlavender. Such a crisp and clean scent, a sharp contrast to the B.O. cloud that always hung over the army. “Thanks!”
“I didn’t grow it,” Cheriour said as he walked away. “Cathal did. You can thank him.”
Did the lavender trick work? Kinda-sorta. It kept some bugs away. Not all of them. The freaking skeeters were relentless.
When we departed again in the morning, I had bites all over my arms, legs, neck, and even one on my cheek. And rug burns on my ass from the wet saddle. I was a miserable old hag. But, hey, at least I smelled like lavender. So Itriedto cling to that bit of positivity. Until…
“Belanna, I need you to keep the pace steady,” Cheriour said when he mounted his horse. “We’re close to Sanadrin.”
“Close?” I asked Cheriour as Belanna cantered to the front of the group. “H-how close?”
“With luck, we’ll arrive before noon,” Cheriour said.
With luck.Sure. Because dying before lunchtime would beextremelylucky, right?
And, of course, time always added a little pep to its step when you were dreading something. The morning slid away. The afternoon sun baked the still-boggy ground. Sweat dripped down my back, making the bug bites itchier.
I had a fluttery feeling in my chest. And in my stomach. I kinda wanted to puke, but I’d barely eaten the past few days, so I had nothing to upchuck.
“How many times do you think a heart can beat during a person’s lifetime?” I swatted a fat, green bug off Sacrifice’s neck. “There’s gotta be a limit, right? That’s why some people just drop dead. Heart ticked its last tock.”
Cheriour rode beside me, his eyes roaming as he tried to ignore my babbling.
“Because if there’s a limit, I might max mine out before we get there.” I heard my booming pulse, even above the rolling thunder of cantering horses.
“We’ve nearly arrived,” Cheriour said. “If you feel you’re going to expire, do it now. While I still have time to unsaddle Sacrifice.”
“What?”
“There’s no need for her to endure the horrors of battle if her rider has died.”
“So, if I dropped dead, right here and now, you’d unsaddle the horse and…what would you do with me?” My voice sounded high-pitched and wheezy.
