The Deadwalk by Stephanie Bedwell-Grime Page B

“Nhaille?”
    He looked down at her in the shadows.
    “Do you think I'm losing my mind?”
    She watched the hard line of his mouth soften into tenderness. “Of course
not. Why would you think such a thing?”
    “It would be a likely conclusion for someone who admits to seeing things that
aren't there.”
    Placing his hands on either side of her head, he gazed down into her eyes.
“It stands to reason that if you carry Shraal blood in your veins, you might
also have the capacity for Shraal magic.”
    “You think what I saw was real? That it may come to pass?”
    “I am not an expert in Shraal sorceries, but we must prepare ourselves for
the possibility.”
    “I don't care at all for that answer.”
    “Many difficult events lie in your future, Riordan. I wish I could will it
otherwise.”
    “So do I.” She stared after the black cloaked rider. “Speaking of unpleasant
choices, what are we going to do about Doan-Rau?”
    Nhaille followed her line of sight. “We have no choice but to kill him.”
     
     
     
     

The Deadwalk
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    “I don't see anything.” Riordan squinted into the sun. Shuffling over on her
belly atop the low ridge on which they were lying, she followed the line of
Nhaille's arm.
    Placing a hand on the back of her neck, Nhaille gently turned her head in the
right direction. “There.”
    Riordan blinked sand from her eyes. On the horizon a black speck moved
against the glittering sea of sand.
    “Okay, I see him. Now what?”
    Nhaille's eyes flickered up to meet hers. “Now we rid ourselves of this
troublesome obstacle.”
    “What are we going to do, sneak up behind him and lop off his head?”
    “That's one way to tackle the problem.”
    “Nhaille!”
    He grinned wolfishly and held up his hand for silence. “I said it was one
way, not the best course of action. What I had in mind was more along the lines
of a night ambush.”
    Then he won't have to see my face, Riordan thought with a sudden pang of
cowardice.
    Since she'd stood among Kanarek's still-smoldering ashes, she'd dreamed of
nothing but vengeance. Two days ago Nhaille would have had to use physical
restraint to stop her from leaping from the ledge and dashing after him.
    But the eerie vision in the magenta vault unnerved her. Not only the mindless
killing, but the horrible feeling that followed, as if an abyss had opened in
her soul.
    Her father's dead and clouded eyes swam before her mind's eyes. You'll have
no rest until I put a stop to these monstrosities. The task was hers, whether
she wanted it or not, she thought, staring at the moving speck silhouetted
against the featureless sky.
    “It doesn't make sense.” Nhaille rubbed the skin on the back of his neck that
was chafed by sweat, sand, and the constant rubbing of his helmet. “Why, if he
had an entire army on the march -- toward Kholer would be my guess, why would he
break with his company and set out alone?”
    “You're assuming Doan-Rau is sane,” Riordan offered. “A dangerous
presumption, don't you think?”
    Nhaille shrugged. “He could very well be a raving lunatic, though his father
was a rational man.”
    “Razing Kanarek and turning its dead into an army of ghouls was not a
rational action.”
    “No--”
    “And what does it matter anyway. We'll ambush him, as you say, and be done
with the problem.”
    But Nhaille was still wandering the path of his own thoughts. “Is he so
convinced of his victory to leave his company in the hands of his
commander?”
    A thought occurred to her. “Unless he's looking for the Sword as well.”
    Nhaille pursed his lips in contemplation. “Unless he's looking for
you...”
    “Me?”
    “It does stand to reason that if word of a man and woman fleeing Kanarek
reached Doan-Rau, he might draw the obvious conclusion.”
    “I am not an obvious conclusion! I'm supposed to be a myth.”
    “I do believe the myth is rapidly becoming reality.” He offered her a pointed
stare.
    He