Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar Read Online Free PDF

Lady,” she said, and took bearings of her own. “It is good that I asked. Let’s go.”
    She had thought yesterday that Vesily was agitated, but the Companion’s urgency was even greater now. Whatever mysterious forces drove her, they were stronger, which did not bode well for the Companion taking due care.
    Well, that just meant Sherra would have to be doubly vigilant.
    Easier said than done, of course.
    Especially since the new track was taking them in the direction of whatever had been bellowing last night.
    That was the bad news. The good news was that there was no path, and they were forced to wallow through water that came almost up to Sherra’s chin. Now, normally that would have been the bad news, but anything that was going to slow Vesily down and keep her from dashing straight into trouble was a blessing. Sherra’s broad feet and clawed toes were made for these swamps; Vesily’s hooves sank into the mud and she had to pull them free to take a step.
    But it was clear from the determination in every bit of her that she was not going to give up on this. So instead of recommending that they take a rest, Sherra just helped her to drink from Sherra’s own water bottle, and they pushed on.
    Then suddenly, in the late afternoon when there had still been no sign of an island, a path, or even a break in the reeds, Vesily stopped—froze in place, really. Sherra stopped as well.
    :Something is wrong.:
    Sherra referenced her internal place-sense. They were relatively near the Vale-side border of the Mire here, but far from free of it. Hells, the Mire could kill someone who was only a step into it.
    :Something is wrong,: Vesily repeated. :My Chosen—his thoughts are muddy, and—insane. I don’t understand. This is not right. I am not supposed to have thoughts from a Chosen that are clear enough to understand like speech, but I am getting impressions of need, and fear, and fleeing, and the thoughts—the thoughts echo. Somehow.: The Companion’s tail flicked quickly and her muscles tensed and bunched as if she was ready to bolt.
    “Don’t run. Don’t. You’ll kill yourself and never reach your Chosen,” Sherra said firmly. Vesily stood up on her hind legs for a few moments, towering up above the hertasi, and scanned the horizon with white-edged eyes, her forehooves dangling at a human’s eye-height or more. Clearly, reaching this Chosen compelled the Spirit Horses more than Sherra first thought. “I know you want to run, but the Mire has to be traversed slowly or not at all.”
    :But she’s going the wrong way. He is,: Vesily Mindspoke plaintively. :She is. He is. I don’t understand this at all! I was supposed to go find my Chosen, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! Not all this swamp, this slowness. I left Haven at a hundred times this speed. And you can go faster! And you aren’t!: The Spirit Horse’s Mind-voice seethed with accusation, anger, hate, fear, worry, and no small amount of guilt. Sherra came very close to swatting Vesily with her staff. Hard.
    Instead, Sherra glared and then replied, “Fine. You want to go faster, try to keep up.” She concentrated anew on the Path, and found that it had changed. And that it had a conflict. It told her to continue on—and also, to go to their right, staying in the swamp. “This is . . . odd,” she told Vesily in a clipped tone, still a little angry.
    :I know. I don’t know what to do. I’m lost here.:
    Sherra growled, “No one with me is ever lost. Temporarily disoriented maybe, but never lost. Come. We are best off reaching the Vale, regardless, because they can send out searchers and relieve our fatigue. We go with the first Path I sensed.” Better to have a direction, even if it is a poor one, than to stand uncertain in this place, she thought.
    :I heard that.:
    “Try and keep up,” Sherra said out loud, and her guide style altered considerably. Now, whenever there was a large tuft of watergrass, she leapt to it, and the Companion bounded