A long, corkscrew gallery took us upward once more, and I heard Ganelon‘s voice, faint and echoing, “I thought that I glimpsed movement—that might be a rider—at the crest of the mountain—just for an instant-back there.” We moved into a slightly brighter chamber.
“If it was Benedict, he‘s got a hard act to follow,” I shouted, and there came the tremors and muffled crashings as more things collapsed behind us.
We proceeded onward and upward, until finally openings began to occur overhead, giving upon patches of clear blue sky. The hoof clicks and the sounds of the wagon gradually assumed a normal volume and their echoes came to us also. The tremors ceased, small birds darted above us, and the light increased in intensity.
Then another twisting of the way, and our exit lay before us, a wide, low opening onto day. We had to duck our heads as we passed beneath the jagged lintel. We bounced up and over a jutting lip of moss-covered stone, then looked upon a bed of gravel that lay like a scythed track upon the hillside, passing among gigantic trees, vanishing within them, below. I made a clicking noise with my tongue, encouraging the horses on their way.
“They are very tired now,” Ganelon remarked.
“I know. Soon they will get to rest, one way or another.”
The gravel crunched beneath our wheels. The smell of the trees was good.
“Have you noticed it? Down there, off to the right?”
“What . . . ?” I began, turning my head. Then, “Oh,” I finished.
The infernal black road was with us still, perhaps a mile distant.
“How many shadows does it cut across?” I mused.
“All of them, it would seem,” Ganelon suggested.
I shook my head slowly. “I hope not,” I said.
We proceeded downward, beneath a blue sky and a golden sun westering in a normal way.
“I was almost afraid to come out of that cave,” Ganelon said after a time. “No telling what would be on this side.”
“The horses couldn‘t take much more. I had to let up. If that was Benedict we saw, his horse had better be in very good condition. He was pushing it hard. Then to have it face all that . . . I think he would fall back.”
“Maybe it‘s used to it,” Ganelon said, as we crunched around a bend to the right, losing sight of the cave mouth.
“There is always that possibility,” I said, and I thought of Dara again, wondering what she was doing at that moment.
We wove our way steadily downward, shifting slowly and imperceptibly. Our trail kept drifting to the right, and I cursed when I realized we were nearing the black road.
“Damn! It‘s as persistent as an insurance salesman!” I said, feeling my anger turn to something like hatred. “When the time is right, I am going to destroy that thing!”
Ganelon did not reply. He was taking a long drink of water. He passed me the bottle and I did, too.
At length, we achieved level terrain, and the trail continued to twist and curve at the least excuse. It allowed the horses to take it easy and it would slow a mounted pursuer.
About an hour later, I began to feel comfortable and we stopped to eat. We had just about finished our meal when Ganelon—who had not removed his gaze from the hillside—stood and shaded his eyes.
“No,” I said, leaping to my feet. “I don‘t believe it.”
A lone rider had emerged from the mouth of the cave. I watched as he halted for a moment, then continued on down the trail.
“What do we do now?” Ganelon asked.
“Let‘s pick up our stuff and get moving again. We can at least delay the inevitable a little longer. I want more time to think.”
We rolled once more, still moving at a moderate pace, though my mind was racing at full speed. There had to be a way to stop him. Preferably, without killing him.
But I couldn‘t think of any.
Except for the black road, which was edging nearer once more, we had come into a lovely afternoon in a beautiful place. It was a shame to dampen it with blood, particularly if it might be my blood. Even with his blade in his left hand, I was afraid to face him. Ganelon would be of no use to me. Benedict would barely notice him.