Page 102 of Swordheart
“What, bits of your countryside don’t get up and move around to suit themselves?”
“Certainly not.”
“It’s these decadent southern landscapes, I expect,” said Halla. She sighed and slid down off the wagon.
“Where are you going?” asked Sarkis.
“To check the edge,” she said over her shoulder. The hillside road was wider than the hollow way, but not by much. “If we can turn around, maybe we can still get out of here.”
Her heart sank as she neared the drop-off. It wasn’t a sheer cliff, but it was at a nasty angle, and if a wheel went over, they weren’t getting it back up in a hurry. Most of the hill was a growth of pokeweed and blackberry bramble, full of fluttering as birds popped up from the tangle and then flew back down again.
She leaned forward, frowning. How the devil had the road been cut into the hill at this angle, anyway? You’d need a great many men with shovels… well, it could be done, of course, but who would come out to the Vagrant Hills to do such a thing? Even if you assume the hollow way was linked up by magic… hmmm. No, the hollow way looked exactly like the rest of the hillside,just with the embankments higher than the roadway, with trees growing on top.
Arms went around her waist, and Sarkis lifted her back from the edge of the cliff.
“Pleasedon’t stand so close to the drop. I may be immortal but I would rather not die of heart failure just yet,” he said.
“I wasn’t that close to the edge…” grumbled Halla. She was having a hard time concentrating on being indignant, however, since his arms were still around her waist. His chest pressed against her back, very solid and very warm.
Was he holding her longer than necessary? It certainly seemed like it. What if she turned around right now and put her arms around his neck? Would he drop her, startled? Would he kiss her again? Would—
Zale cleared their throat loudly.
Sarkis dropped his arms.
“I don’t think we can turn around,” said Halla, feeling a flush rising up her face. “Not without risking a wheel going over the edge.”
Brindle nodded to her. “Think the same, fish-lady. An ox is strong, could pull the wagon back, but if an ox goes over…” He spread his hands.
“I suppose we just follow the road, then,” said Halla. “Since our other choice is to abandon the wagon. Which at this point will probably just leave us in the Vagrant Hills with no wagon.”
“I can’t believe the Vagrant Hills reached out that far,” said Zale. “The road was put there mostlybecauseit was too far north for the Hills to bother with.”
“I cannot believe that your people have rogue mountain ranges roaming about and have not dealt with it!”
Zale gave him a wry look. “How do you propose we ‘deal’ with it? Various churches tried to burn out bits of the Hills ages ago. It didn’t go well. There are songs about it.”
“They aren’t happy songs,” added Halla.
Sarkis grunted. After a minute he muttered, “You should have used more fire, then.”
“I’ll take your suggestions to the bishop if we ever get out of here. Now where do we go?”
“What are our options?” said Sarkis.
“Go forward, sword-man.”
“Or abandon the wagon, turn the ox, and go back the way we came,” said Zale.
“It’s got to be one of those two,” said Halla. “Since we can’t fly.”
They looked at the track in front of them. They looked at the track behind them. They looked at the Hills around them.
“I suspect that the Hills are going to let us go, or not, as they choose,” said Zale, dark eyes somber. “I doubt the direction matters a great deal. We cannot be anywhere near where we are, ergo it likely does not matter which way we go.”
There was a pause while everyone attempted to parse this.
“What does your god tell you?” asked Sarkis.
