Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,8
Still chuckling, she checked the overcast skies. Deciding she could still get a few hours’ travel in before bunking down for the night, she turned her heels on the trading post and swiftly left it behind.
In the nipping winds and the shadows of the trees, however, her mirth scattered along with the stillborn leaves of early spring. Something was clearly wrong in Davillon.
“I mean,” she told Olgun, “when isn't something wrong in Davillon? If nothing was wrong, we'd know for sure that something was wrong! But who the hens is so hot to find me? We didn't leave that many people still pissed at us! And even I can't irritate people from all the way across the nation.”
A sigh, and then Shins stuck her tongue out at apparently nothing at all. “I set you up for that one, didn't I? Yes, I'm sure.”
Olgun would have to have been a god of cats to be any more smugly pleased with himself.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, keep your eyes open. Or my eyes open, or your not-eyes open, or whatever it is you actually use to see. If you see. Did you know that, even after all this time, you can be very confusing?”
When no response beyond more amusement was forthcoming, she continued, “Whatever. Be alert. There's something wrong at home, and there's supposedly something nasty on the road to home.
“I seriously doubt it's really any sort of ‘monster,’ though. I mean, most people go their entire lives without meeting one, yes? It's a pretty safe bet that you and I aren't going to encounter three.”
“If you happen to think of it,” Widdershins dully suggested to her unseen companion, “could you remind me, in the future, never to gamble? Or maybe talk?”
Olgun solemnly assured her he would take steps to ensure the former, but that the latter was beyond even divine intervention.
Shins nodded absently, having fully expected the retort; having invited it, even. The banter kept the both of them centered while taking in the tableau they'd stumbled over.
What had once been a large covered wagon lay beside the road, reduced primarily to planks and kindling. Here and there, though, protruded recognizable bits; a largely undamaged wheel, half of the driver's bench. The canvas tarp that had protected the vehicle's contents hung limp from a spur of wood, the heavy material rustling modestly in the wind.
It had, when intact, required a two-horse team to pull. One of those horses lay, still partly harnessed, as broken as the rest of the wagon. The abnormally cool spring meant that relatively few insects were out and about, but those that had found the equine buffet buzzed in offensive contentment.
Of the other horse, or any riders and drivers of a more bipedal nature, there was no sign.
Well, no sign other than the wide swathe of disturbed dirt and crushed underbrush where something had been dragged from the road.
Between that, and the almost comically large puncture wounds in the dead horse—it looked like it had been shot with multiple ballista bolts—Shins had pretty well given up on her earlier skepticism.
“Right. So. Monster it is, then.”
Grudging agreement from her partner.
“But, hey, the timing couldn't be better. This had to have happened pretty recently, yes? So whatever it is, it's off somewhere. Busy. Probably not hungry.”
Less grudging agreement.
“Perfect time for us to just continue on by, be on our way home in safety.”
Emphatic agreement, now.
“No reason whatsoever for us to get involved.”
Olgun continued to agree. Shins continued to stand at the edge of the road, gazing at the trail, and very obviously not going about her merry way.
“Yep. Going any minute now.”
Air wafted over them. Insects buzzed. Feet failed to step.
Oh, figs. “We're both really, really stupid.”
And back to grudging agreement again.
She hesitated a moment more, long enough to dig through her gear and recover the heavy pistol she'd confiscated from the first of the robbers who'd interrupted her travels. A quick juggle of powder and ball to load the weapon, and she was off, creeping low through darkening woodland.
Not her preferred environment, no, but avoiding protruding roots or loose leaves wasn't too different from creaky floorboards or crunching gravel. Between her own aptitudes and Olgun's assistance—warning her of an obstacle here, muffling the sound of a cracked twig there—her advance was quiet enough.
Her first hint that she was drawing near was the scent of smoke; rich, woody, redolent with roasting meat. It actually smelled pretty good, though Shins didn't have much of an appetite under the circumstances.
“Guess we know what