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CHAPTER FIVE—ROAD TRIP
Daka jerked awake, unsure in the darkness for a moment just where he was. He looked around, the world bouncing and swaying slightly, until the metronomic clip-clop of the ponies' hoofboots returned him to his time and place.
Near sunset, after close to four hours, his Mistress had stopped the team for a water break. She'd slowed them to a walk first, let them walk along for ten minutes to avoid cramping up, then given Daka a water bag. The ponygirls had drunk thirstily until the bag was empty and wanted more. Daka gave them each a handful of PonyMix, let them eat it out of his palm, but they were less than halfway to Emerson and the remaining water bag was all that was left. Giving them more to eat would mean they'd need more water to digest the food. They could do without the food, but if the water ran out . . . .
After the break they ran for another hour and a half in the gathering darkness. As the land grew hilly the mounts' exhaustion became evident. For the first time their gait became uneven, and Daka could hear their harsh panting over the crunch of gravel under the carriage wheels.
Daka was holding the reins at the time, and his Mistress had commanded him to slow the ponies to a walk, then stop them a few minutes later. They quivered under the bright starlight as the sweat dried on their skin, and their thighs trembled with fatigue.
"How far to go yet?" his Mistress asked. They had just started into the hills.
"Seventeen, maybe eighteen miles," he replied. When fresh the ponies could do better than seven miles and hour across even ground, but up and down hills, nearly exhausted? Five miles an hour, he guessed.
She directed him to feed and water the ponies again. They all but ignored the PonyMix and sucked down nearly all of the water. Daka kept them hooked to the carriage as they took a half hour rest. He was afraid their feet would swell up if he as much as loosened their boots.
While he and his Mistress walked around the carriage to stretch their legs the ponies knelt on the ground to rest. Daka had chocked the carriage wheels so it couldn't roll forward or back, and the ponies almost immediately fell asleep leaning forward, held upright by the T-bar still attached to their corsets in the middle of their backs.
The barren desert had gradually turned to a rocky scrubland, with low hills made of jutting layers of shale and slate and small, twisted thorny trees whose leaves were as dried birds tongues. There was just a sliver of moon showing but the starlight was more than adequate to see the empty hills stretching away from them in all directions.
When it was time to move out his Mistress produced a small wooden box from inside the carriage and handed it to Daka.
"Give one to each mount," she instructed him. Inside the small box were a dozen off-white orbs the size of large olives and a small, unmarked vial.
"Stimulants," she explained.
Daka had never heard of such a thing, but he moved to the first mount that was still sleeping and began unhooking her bit. She never stirred.
"No, you dunce," his Mistress hissed. "Not there . Use the tube of plug grease. Haven't you ever seen a suppository before?"
Daka stood there for several seconds before comprehension occurred. He'd never heard the word suppository before but he surely knew what plug grease was. He rehooked the bit on the still sleeping mount and moved behind her. The little orbs were slightly greasy to the touch already, but he did as he was told and covered it liberally with tailplug lube. The first mount's buttocks were resting on her boots as she slept in-harness. Daka reached below her, between the boots, and deftly inserted the little capsule. He pushed it in as far as it would go with his finger as the mount sluggishly awoke, then did the same with the other mare. They slowly climbed to their feet, still half asleep, and high-stepped a few times to stretch their stiff legs. Daka and his Mistress climbed back into the carriage, and after taking the reins Daka clucked at the mounts.
He walked them for the first ten minutes, until they were warmed up and had the kinks in their muscles worked out. Daka noticed they were becoming increasingly agitated, and when he finally flicked the reins for them to break into a trot they took off so quickly his head was jerked back.
"They should be good for another three or four hours," Daka heard. "But then they're going to be useless."
Now, as he blinked his sleep-filled eyes, Daka saw the mounts were still running strong. Upright and wide-eyed, they were back in step and making good time. He estimated they'd make Emerson an hour or so before sunrise.
The mounts' hard buttocks were pale orbs in the bright starlight as they ran evenly up and down the gentle hills. The night air wasn't quite cool, but with the drop in temperature the Wash became almost pleasant. The ponies were barely sweating, which was good considering their water situation.
His Mistress held the reins loosely in her hands, but when Daka glanced at her he was surprised to find she was asleep. How long she'd been out he didn't know, but it just proved how disciplined her mounts were.
Daka stretched, enjoying the cool night air against his face. He heard a rustling beside him and found his Mistress waking up. She ran a hand through her jet-black hair and sat up straighter.
"Unforgivable," she murmured. "I must've been more tired than I thought. How long have I been asleep?"
Daka peered at the constellations in the sky, found the polar star and saw how high it was off the horizon.
"I'm not sure milady, but it's been about an hour since we last stopped." His forehead crinkled and he leaned over to look around the edge of the carriage canopy. The road behind them was a paler stripe winding through the scrubland, disappearing around a small rise.
"What is it?" his Mistress asked.
"Someone's coming up behind us," he told her.
She stood up like a shot and looked backward over the top of the carriage. Her eyes worked well in the dark, and she studied the road behind them.
"I see nothing," she called down to him over the sound of the wheels on the road.
"No milady, nor do I. But someone's back there."
She looked down at him, hearing the confidence in his voice. "How do you know?"
Daka shrugged. "I just do."
She stared at him for a second, not moving, then tossed him the reins.
"Take these," she ordered him, ducking under the carriage roof. She reached under the seat and came out with a long object that glinted silver in the starlight. As she stood back up and looked again to their rear, pointing the object down the road, Daka felt an overwhelming sense of fear and dread. He looked around the side of the carriage again just in time to see . . . something round the curve behind them and come screaming up the road. He could hear the screaming in his head, like rusty metal grinding together
"Hiichaa!" his Mistress shouted, and a ball of white flame the size of Daka's fist flew from the end of the rod clutched in her hands. It shot at the shape hurtling up the road towards them at nearly three times the carriage's speed.
The ball of white flame expanded as it flew at their pursuer, growing as big as a melon, then a barrel, lightning sparking through it. When it met the shape chasing them it was the height of a door, a ball of white twisting fire that enveloped the dark shape now only fifty yards behind the carriage.
The shrieking in his head exploded with rage and pain. Inside the globe of flashing light Daka saw what looked like a black tumbleweed as tall as a man. Black hissing twisted limbs, like gnarled tree branches but whipping about like mad rattlers. He saw all this perfectly for a brief fraction of a second, then the hissing mass of intertwined snakebranches began to smoke and shrink inside the ball of white fire. The screaming in Daka's head reached a crescendo as the . . . thing still tried to catch them, smoking and withering, then it burst into green and blue flame and the screaming stopped. After a second the flames winked out, as did the ball of white light. His Mistress stared at the black mass in the road now barely the size of a curled up dog, watching for any signs of life, but as they rolled further and further from it without it doing anything but smoking she relaxed and sat back down inside the carriage.
After stowing the lightning rod beneath the seat she took the reins back from Daka and made soothing noises to calm the panicked mounts. They were in a near flat-out run, and it took her a few minutes to get them to slow to a normal gait.
"What was that?" Daka panted, his heart still racing. He had the sense that they'd just escaped death. Or perhaps something worse. In all his years in the Wash he'd never seen anything like that creature. His Mistress glanced at him briefly, then looked back to the mares. "And what was that you—"
"Don't ever touch it," she warned him, and he pulled his hand back that had been reaching for the lightning stick. "Never. I'll cut off your hands. Is that understood?"
"Yes milady."
"Warn me when we are nearing Emerson. But shut your mouth until then, no more questions. I have to think."
If Daka had been a little more observant he would have noticed how badly his Mistress was shaken, and how pale her face was.
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