Page 169 of Wind Rider

“W-why don’t you need a guide?” Thaddeus rasped on cue.

“Ah! Good of you to ask and not assume!” Death said as if He had not just almost choked the life from Thaddeus. “I do not need a guide because I already have one.”

Thaddeus frowned and glanced behind Death at the armada filled with Milks. The Tribesmen had already beached their craft, followed by Death’s Reapers, but the Milks waited, always gazing at Death, watching for Him to give them a command.

Death followed Thaddeus’s gaze, threw back His enormous head, and laughed. “Not the Milks, though you are partially right.”

It had only taken Death’s hearing Ralina refer to the awakened dead as “Milks” for him to adopt the name. Ralina had been surprised. She’d expected Him to chastise her, as they were His army, and completely loyal to Him, but the God had found the nickname amusing. He’d laughed and commended Ralina’s imagination. Since then they had officially become “the Milks.”

Death turned to his Blade. “Iron Fist, while I conjure our guide, call the Milks to shore. Have them abandon their boats close enough to the beach that they can carry the supplies to dry land without soaking them, and then command that they swim back and break holes in the bellies of the craft. Sink them all. Then, after the Reapers unload our supplies”—Death nodded in the direction of the Reaper craft, as well as the beached boats that had carried Thaddeus and his Hunters and Warriors—“fire the boats.”

“Yes, my Lord. Your craft as well?”

Death’s boat, the largest and most opulent of the armada, had run aground several yards before the others. Currently the Reapers were carrying Death’s harem of Attendants from the craft, as well as the piles of supplies He and His army had stolen from the Saleesh after consuming them, swarmlike.

“Mine as well. All of the boats! Including these.” Death gestured to the little group of craft Nik and his people had carefully left behind so that others could make use of them. “No one runs from Death. I will have no one using any of these boats to try to flee me.”

“Yes, my Lord!” Iron Fist said, and rushed back to the waterline to begin shouting Death’s commands.

“Thaddeus, I would that you come with me and observe.” Death found and met Ralina’s gaze. “You, too, little Storyteller. You will not want to miss this. But bring your young lover. I have come to understand that at times you have rather delicate sensibilities. You may need the bolstering presence of your plaything.” Death turned His back to them and strode toward the opening of the mountain path.

Thinking quickly, Ralina whispered to Daniel, “Hide our boat. Pretend like you’re dragging it over to the group Nik left behind, but use the bushes up there to camouflage it.”

“I will do my best,” said the older man.

Death glanced over His shoulder and frowned at Thaddeus, who was still on the ground, rubbing his throat. “Get up! You aren’t badly wounded. There are times I wish your little canine was still with you—he was a lot stronger. Come! And come now, Storyteller. I am anxious to begin the last leg of our journey.” Death turned and paced away as Ralina nodded to Daniel and then slid her hand within Renard’s. The two of them hastily followed Death, with Bear and Kong pressed against their sides, as her lover’s father, ignored by Reapers and Tribesmen alike, dragged their little boat up the beach.

As she passed Thaddeus, she got a glimpse of the Hunter’s unfiltered expression. He was staring at the God’s back with raw hatred—and Ralina felt a small tickle of hope. Thaddeus would never be her ally, but maybe he could serve as a distraction when she figured out how to defeat the God.

“Come! Hurry! I would begin our trek through the mountains immediately,” Death bellowed back at them.

Thaddeus pushed past Ralina and Renard, bumping Renard purposefully with his shoulder. “Watch out, plaything.”

Renard’s hand tightened within Ralina’s, and his big Shepherd, Kong, bristled, growling low in his throat.

“Ssh, Kong,” Renard whispered to his Companion. “Not today—but someday Thaddeus will get what he deserves.”

“Yes, he will,” Ralina agreed, squeezing Renard’s hand.

The irony was that in a fair fight Thaddeus wouldn’t stand a chance against the younger, stronger Warrior. But Ralina, Renard,andThaddeus—especially Thaddeus—knew Death would not tolerate an attack on His pet Hunter, not even by Ralina’s lover.

Someday I will take Thaddeus down, and Renard will be there to witness it,Ralina promised herself silently. At her side, Bear looked up at her, whining in eager agreement.Oh, yes, my brave Bear. You will be there to witness it, too.

They climbed and climbed, following the steep rise in the path, and finally caught up to Death after they took a sharp turn to the left and were looking out over the first valley the pass traversed before taking another, sharper, climb up into the mountains.

“Ah, there you are! Thaddeus, do you have a knife with you?” Death asked.

“I do.”

Death extended His hand, and Thaddeus pulled a sharp-edged knife from the sheath at his waist, giving it to him.

“Now, observe well, Storyteller. I would that you create a ballad for this part of my tale. I would like to hear this sung for ages.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Ralina said automatically, though internally she flinched. The Storyteller had realized months before that the God had no understanding that true heroes did not dictate that ballads, poems, and stories be told in their honor. True heroes were celebrated by othersmorethan they celebrated themselves.

Death faced the valley. He cupped His hands around His mouth and bellowed. This call was one Ralina had not heard from Him before. Unlike the bestial roars the God usually sounded, this one seemed gentler, and it rose and fell, reminding Ralina in a strange way of a barking canine. He kept calling and calling, over and over again, until at the very edge of the valley there was movement.

“Ah, she comes!” Death said. He cupped His hands around His mouth again and strode out into the valley.