“Atta, come,” Rhys said.
Atta stayed where she was. She pawed again at the cloak and whined.
“Atta, come,” Rhys repeated.
Slowly, her head and tail drooping, Atta limped painfully over to Rhys and lay down at his side. Putting her head on her paws, she heaved a deep sigh.
Galdar squatted beside the body. He moved slowly and stiffly. His blood-matted fur was slathered with the same brown goop his men had spread on Atta. Galdar lifted a corner of the green cloak and looked down at Nightshade.
“Sargas commands us to honor him. He will be known among us as Kedir ut Sarrak.” (Kender with Horns)
Rhys smiled through his tears. He hoped Nightshade’s spirit had lingered long enough to hear that.
The minotaur soldiers gathered up their belongings, making ready to leave. No one wanted to stay in this place any longer than necessary.
“Are you fit to travel, Monk?” Galdar asked. “If so, you are welcome to come with us. We will help you carry your dead and the mutt, if she won’t bite,” he added gruffly.
Rhys gave grateful assent.
One of the minotaur lifted the small body in strong arms. Another picked up Atta. She barked and struggled, but at Rhys’ command, she quit fighting and allowed the minotaur to carry her, though she growled with every breath.
“I want to thank you for your help-” Rhys began.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Galdar interrupted. He waved his good hand at his soldiers. “You can thank this mutinous lot. They disobeyed my command and came after me, even though I had ordered them to stay behind to wait for me.”
“I’m glad they disobeyed,” said Rhys.
“If you must know, so am I. Go on ahead,” Galdar told his men. “The monk and I cannot walk as swiftly. We will be safe enough. There are only ghosts left in this valley now, and they cannot harm us.”
The minotaurs didn’t appear to be too certain of this, but they did as Galdar commanded, though they did not move quite as swiftly as they could have, but kept within shouting range of their commander.
Galdar and Rhys walked together, both of them limping. Galdar grimaced and pressed his hand to his side. One of the minotaur’s eyes was swollen shut and blood trickled from the base of one of his horns. Rhys’ stomach and jaw both hurt, making breathing difficult and painful.
“Where will you go now?” Rhys asked.
“I will return to Jelek to resume my duties as ambassador to you humans. I doubt you want to go there,” he added with a wry glance at Rhys. “But my men and I will not abandon you. We will wait with you until help arrives.”
“Help may be long in coming.” Rhys spoke with an inward sigh.
“You think so?” Galdar asked, and a smile flickered on his lips. “You should have more faith, Monk.”
Rhys had no idea what the minotaur meant, but before he could ask, Galdar’s smile vanished. He glanced back into the valley of stone and black crystal.
“Mina went with him, didn’t she? She went with the Walking God.”
“I hope so,” Rhys replied. “I pray so.”
“I’m not much for praying,” Galdar said. “And if I did pray, I’d pray to Sargas, and I would guess the Horned God is not feeling kindly disposed toward me at the moment.”
He paused, then added somberly, “If I did pray, I would pray that Mina finds whatever it is she seeks.”
“You forgive her for what she did to you?” Rhys was astonished. Minotaurs were not known as a forgiving people. Their god was a god of vengeance.
“I suppose you could say I got into a habit of forgiving her.” Galdar rubbed the stump of his arm, grimacing. Strange that the pain of a missing arm was worse than the pain of cracked bones. He added half-ashamed, half-defiant, “What about you, Monk? Do you forgive her?”
“I walked my road once with hatred and revenge gnawing at my heart,” Rhys said. His gaze went to the minotaur who was carrying the small body, to the green cloak that fluttered in the still air. “I will not do so again. I forgive Mina and my prayer is the same as yours-that she finds what she seeks. Though I am not certain I should be praying for that.”
“Why not?”
“Whatever she finds will tip the scales of balance one way or the other.”
“The scales might tip in your direction, Monk,” Galdar suggested. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Rhys shook his head. “A man who stares at the sun too long is as blind as one who walks in pitch darkness.”
The two fell silent, saving their laboring breath for the climb out of the valley. The minotaur under Galdar’s command stood waiting for them among the foothills of the Lords of Doom. The minotaur looked grim, for the Faithful were also waiting there. Led by silent Elspeth, they had come to the valley, though too late to find Valthonis.
Galdar scowled at the elves. “You gave your oath,” he told them.
“We did not break faith with you,” said one of the elves. “We did not try to rescue Valthonis.”
The elf pointed to the cloak that covered the body of the kender. “That belongs to Valthonis! Where is he?” The elf glared at Galdar. “What have you done with him? Have you basely murdered him?”
“On the contrary. The minotaur saved Valthonis’ life,” Rhys replied.
The elves scowled in disbelief.
“Do you doubt my word?” Rhys asked wearily.
The leader of the Faithful bowed.
“We mean no offense, Servant of Matheri,” the elf said, using the elvish name for the god, Majere. “But you must understand that we find this difficult to comprehend. A monk of Matheri and a minotaur of Kinthalas walk together out of the Valley of Evil. What is going on? Is Valthonis alive?”
“He is alive and unharmed.”
“Then where is he?”
“He helps a lost child find her way home,” Rhys replied.
The elves glanced at other, mystified, some clearly still disbelieving. And then silent Elspeth walked over to stand in front of Galdar. One of the elves sought to stop her, but she thrust him aside. She reached out her hand to the minotaur.
“What’s this?” he demanded, frowning. “Tell her to stay away from me.”
Elspeth smiled in reassurance. As he watched, tense and frowning, she lightly brushed her fingers across the stump of his arm.
Galdar blinked. The grimace of pain that had twisted his face eased. He clasped his hand over the stump and stared at her in astonishment. Elspeth walked past him and came to kneel beside the body of the kender. She tucked the cloak around him tenderly, as a mother tucks a blanket around her child, then lifted the body in her arms. She stood waiting patiently to depart.
Galdar glanced at Rhys. “I told you help would find you.”
The elves were now more mystified than before, but they obeyed Elspeth’s silent command and made preparations to leave.
“I hope you will honor us with your company, Servant of Matheri,” said the leader to Rhys, who gave his grateful assent.
Galdar held out his left hand, grasped Rhys’ hand in a crushing grip. “Farewell, Brother.”
Rhys clasped the minotaur’s hand in both his own. “May your journey be a safe one and swift.”
“It will be swift, at least,” Galdar stated grimly. “The faster we’re away from this accursed place, the better.”
He bellowed orders that were quickly obeyed. The minotaur soldiers marched off, as eager as their commander to leave Neraka.
But Galdar did not immediately follow them. He stood still for a moment, gazing west, deep into the mountains.
“Godshome,” he said. “It lies in that direction.”
“So I have been told,” Rhys said.
Galdar nodded to himself and continued to stare into the distance, as if trying to catch some last glimpse of Mina. Sighing, he lowered his gaze, shook his horned head.