Page 71 of Tusks & Saddles
Holding onto her suitcase in one hand and her firearm in the other, Miss Eaves was covered in dust. There was a large tear in her dress—the same one that had been pierced bythe plant creatures poisonous barb. An apology was about to bubble from his throat when Miss Eaves dropped the suitcase.
“What did you do?!” Miss Eaves shouted.
“I—you said to lose them and this seemed like the best way?”
“Really? Losing our horse was the best way?” she shot back. “Stranding us on top of a giant boulder was the best way? Do you have any idea what kind of trouble we’re in?!”
Welborn glanced around. Ideally, being on top of a large rock with the sun beating down on you and no shelter in sight—yeah, he could think of the kind of trouble they were in. Fretfully, he eyed the skyline for any large flying beasts.
“Welborn!”
Yellow eyes snapped back to Miss Eaves. She was tense, shoulders rigid in a way that he had never really seen before. In fact if he didn’t know better, he would say—
“There are Sand Slithers in the Searing Wastelands. A pack of them. Do you have any idea what this means?” she asked.
“I—”
“It means, that most likely they have a mother,” Miss Eaves continued through gritted teeth.
Welborn blinked.
Giant Slithers were apparently known as Sand Slithers in Vyrthsalis.
They had once roamed the continent many centuries ago, but supposedly they had gone extinct. They were sightless, using the vibrations of the ground to listen for prey. The giant spikes on their hides were used to push themselves through the dirt and the ones that jumped at them could only do so because they were apparently babies. Eight to nine foot long, sharp fanged, poisonous babies who could launch themselves through the air like an arrow.
Or so, that’s what Miss Eaves had said.
That had been three days ago.
Welborn had known Miss Eaves for a very short period of time, but she had already been one of many firsts. The first woman who had let him touch her thigh, the first woman who let him touch her waist. The first to have ever sat in his lap and now the first woman who had ever given him the silent treatment.
It had made the last three days on the boulder rather… uncomfortable. Between the unbearable heat, frigid nights, and all the dust—Welborn was beginning to question his capability to find the High Cleric.
The Sand Slithers weren’t helping, either. Miss Eaves had discovered that one of them had died upon impacting the rock—which Welborn would have celebrated, if the others weren’t circling the boulder like a group of hungry sharks. At first, they had disappeared for a long time, but Miss Eaves didn’t trust it. She had dropped a ball bearing—courtesy of Kay—and the moment it had hit the dirt below, they had swarmed. Last Welborn checked, there had been three.
The one Miss Eaves had shot first had survived.
Now, Welborn was seated near the center of the boulder, trying his best to light a fire with the magic in his empty palm. Miss Eaveswas spread out near the edge of the boulder, arms wrapped around a large metal contraption—the likes of which Welborn had never seen before.
Gambler’s Luckwas what Miss Eaves called it. Similar to the long barrel ofBad Company, Miss Eaves explained that it was a long range weapon that could pierce armor from far away.
“Among other things,” she had murmured before ignoring him.
The past few days Miss Eaves had kept her eyes on the horizon. It took a lot of effort to get the woman to put her weapon aside just to eat the meager food his magic had been able to craft. A perk of most clerics, being able to feed those in need was always a gift. Granted, the humble bit of bread and cheese wasn’t a full meal. It was better than nothing.
As the light began to crest below the horizon, Welborn contemplated on how to bridge the gap between them. He understood—after the verbal lashing Miss Eaves had given him—while inspired, his idea had little foresight. While the magic had been impressive, Welborn still didn’t understand how he had done it. More worrisome, was the fact that the massive miracle had apparently drained Welborn of his ability to use his hand to find the hidden things around them. A setback, but not uncommon in clerics who utilized powerful divine magic. Magic always had a price, despite what those who wished to control it may have thought.
That didn’t mean Welborn hadn’t tried to ask for guidance. Despite his prayers to the All Seer, Welborn knew there was no way around it. They were stuck on the boulder until someone came to save them, or the Sand Slithers got bored. Either way, it wasn’t the first time that his enthusiasm had gotten him into a bit of trouble.
Or a lot of trouble,Welborn thought as he used his last spell of the day to craft more cheese and bread.
The magic only needed a crumb—a morsel—to create more of it. And while Welborn wouldn’t say he was opposed to trying new foods, he had felt his stomach turn the first morning Miss Eaves had produced breakfast. Snake and a handful of scorpions hadn’t set well in his stomach, either.
Gather your courage, Welborn.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Welborn pushed himself to his feet. His heart was in his ears as he crossed the short distance between them. For a moment, he stood awkwardly near her boot. Doubt and worry made his one good palm sweaty. The other—well, it felt nervous, even if there wasn’t any sweat pooling in the center.
I really need to talk to Boone—
