The Deadwalk Read Online Free PDF Page B

shoulder. “Easy, Riordan. For now
all we must do is make it across the desert alive.”
    “We have to stay alive long enough to find the Sword,” she supplied.
    “Right.”
    “What if we don't find it?” Gods, what if we do?
    “According to the prophecy, we will.”
    Fear twisted within her, swiftly becoming anger. “And what if the prophecy is
wrong? Has no one thought of that?”
    “It has been right so far.”
    Riordan threw up her hands in frustration. Strayhorn, feeling the sudden
slack on the reins, snorted nervously. Losing stride momentarily, he fell back
into step with Nhaille's Stormback. “Fine, assuming that's right. Has nobody
considered that maybe it can't be done?”
    “It can be done,” Nhaille insisted. “Hael had no difficulty turning the Amber
upon us.”
    “Hael has an army! We have nothing, except a moldy old map!”
    “For now,” Nhaille said, maddeningly sure of himself.
    Riordan reined Strayhorn in sharply. He protested vehemently, throwing up his
head. “Suppose we find this mythical Sword of Zal-Azaar. Hells, suppose we do
manage to assemble an army -- I'll even go as far as to believe that I'm capable
of breaking through Haelian ranks, cleaving off the Prince's head and sending
his soul to damnation in the Seventh Hell.”
    Nhaille waited quietly for her to continue.
    “What then? What if I can't control it? What if I can't use it at all?”
    The question hung between them.
    “And even,” Riordan added quietly, “if somehow by the will of the Gods I'm
able to do all the prophecy says I will. That will not rebuild Kanarek. It won't
bring my family back.”
    “No.” He peered into the shadows. “Defeating Hael is but the beginning of the
task.”
    “Great.” Riordan urged Strayhorn forward. “Just as long as we both realize
what we're trying to do is impossible.”
    Nhaille nodded noncommittally, thinking that was the end of the
conversation.
    “By the Gods, Nhaille, I can't do any of this!”
    The night echoed her words back at her.
    “Keep your voice down! You'll do none of it if you lead the Haelian army
straight to us. You'll be dead and Kanarek will be lost forever. I do wish for a
moment you'd remember what's at stake here.”
    “I am acutely aware of what's at stake here. And that is why I am utterly
terrified.”
    “You don't have to do this alone, Riordan,” Nhaille said quietly. “I will be
with you.”
    It was meant to comfort her, however, despite his forced bravado, in the
darkness Nhaille didn't sound any more sure of himself than she did.
    They rode in silence for several moments while the urge to scream built
inside her. But hollering, as Nhaille pointed out, would be suicide.
    “Did it ever occur to anyone that perhaps I just don't have it in me?”
Riordan whispered finally. “What if I'm not capable of coldbloodedly chopping
off someone's head?”
    “Chopping off mine didn't seem to bother you.”
    “I was trying to beat you, not kill you, Nhaille. I just wanted to see the
look on your face when I won.”
    “I'd never have given you the satisfaction.”
    His pitiful attempt at humor did little to calm her. Riordan frowned and
swallowed hard on the bile rising to her throat. “How am I going to beat Hael if
I can't even beat you?”
    “Hael won't have The Sword of Zal-Azaar at their disposal.”
    “Hael has the Amber.”
    “They are not the same, Riordan.”
    “No, but they're equal in their potential for destruction.”
    “Not exactly.”
    “The Sword is stronger?” She couldn't remember that fact written anywhere. At
least, it hadn't been in the book Nhaille kept beneath the marker in the
cellar.
    “The Amber is an older, cruder weapon.” Nhaille paused, gathering his
thoughts. “Early Shraal possessed the magic to reignite the parts of the brain
that control walking, fighting. The Shraal ancestors of Hael declared war on the
kingdom of Bayorek. The Amber was cruel in its efficiency. For a time it