The Four Horsemen 3 - Famine Read Online Free Page B
Author: T.A. Chase
over the centuries, yet it never ceased to amaze him how gorgeous the land itself was.
A noise caught his attention and he stopped, tilting his head to listen. It didn’t sound like an animal, it seemed rather human. Famine calmed his breathing, straining to hear it again. There it was, drifting on the breeze coming from his left. It almost sounded like Help me.
Pacing alongside him, his stallion didn’t react to the plea, but then Famine doubted it would have reacted to anything that didn’t have something to do with Famine’s mission. The creature could be very single-minded in its actions. Famine closed his bag and hung it around his neck before swinging astride the stallion.
He turned the horse to face the right direction, and nudged it with his heels. “We need to see if there’s someone who needs our help.”
Again, the stallion didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere it didn’t want to go. Famine kicked its sides, and it merely snorted.
“Fine. I’ll walk there.”
He slid to the ground, and started walking in the direction of the voice. The horse huffed in annoyance as it followed him. He waved at it.
“You don’t have to come with me. Since this isn’t part of my mission, you probably have better things to do with yourself.” He stumbled to a stop and turned to face the stallion head on. “Did you just roll your eyes at me? I didn’t even know it was possible for horses to do that.”
The black horse stomped his hoof, and Famine wondered if the being was as frustrated with their inability to communicate as he was. It didn’t seem fair that the horse could understand him, but that he couldn’t understand anything it might say to him. He wavered slightly as the stallion bumped him with his nose.
“Do you want me to get on you?”
His mount nodded, and he climbed astride once more. They trotted off, and he let his mind wander a little. Maybe after this last swing through South Africa and Botswana, he would take a small break. It wasn’t like the land would bounce back within minutes of his being gone. It would take years of constant rain for the ground to be fit to feed the millions of people living on the continent.
Famine didn’t know how long they’d ridden, but finally his stallion stopped and looked down into a crevice. Famine dismounted, and went to the edge. He tried to find what the horse was looking at.
Finally, movement caught his eye, and he gasped as he spotted the dirt-covered man curled at the bottom of the small gorge.
“What the hell?” Famine shared a look with his horse. “I wonder how he managed to get down there.”
If his horse could have shrugged, Famine was sure it would have. Famine glanced around to see if he could find a way down to the man without doing damage to himself. He couldn’t die, but he could still get hurt and he didn’t like the inconvenience of having to heal. He saw a narrow trail leading down to the bottom of the gorge. He guessed it might have been made by some kind of animal, but Famine wasn’t going to worry about it as long as he got to the mortal without hurting himself.
“Stay here. I’ll go down and see if he’s still alive,” Famine told his stallion.
Famine inched his way down the trail, holding on to any rock or root he could to keep his balance. He slid the last couple of feet, his sandals not really made for traction. Thudding to a stop, he dropped to his knees next to the man, and ignored the sharp pains shooting through his legs.
“Hey, are you alive?”
Famine thought about hitting himself in the forehead for asking such a stupid question. If he was dead, he certainly wouldn’t be able to tell Famine that. He reached out and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. The guy jerked like he’d been shot, and moaned.
“Guess that means you’re still alive,” Famine muttered. “I’m going to try and roll you over. I need to see how badly hurt you are.”
The injured man shook his head. “Arm stuck.”
“Your arm’s stuck? Where?
A noise caught his attention and he stopped, tilting his head to listen. It didn’t sound like an animal, it seemed rather human. Famine calmed his breathing, straining to hear it again. There it was, drifting on the breeze coming from his left. It almost sounded like Help me.
Pacing alongside him, his stallion didn’t react to the plea, but then Famine doubted it would have reacted to anything that didn’t have something to do with Famine’s mission. The creature could be very single-minded in its actions. Famine closed his bag and hung it around his neck before swinging astride the stallion.
He turned the horse to face the right direction, and nudged it with his heels. “We need to see if there’s someone who needs our help.”
Again, the stallion didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere it didn’t want to go. Famine kicked its sides, and it merely snorted.
“Fine. I’ll walk there.”
He slid to the ground, and started walking in the direction of the voice. The horse huffed in annoyance as it followed him. He waved at it.
“You don’t have to come with me. Since this isn’t part of my mission, you probably have better things to do with yourself.” He stumbled to a stop and turned to face the stallion head on. “Did you just roll your eyes at me? I didn’t even know it was possible for horses to do that.”
The black horse stomped his hoof, and Famine wondered if the being was as frustrated with their inability to communicate as he was. It didn’t seem fair that the horse could understand him, but that he couldn’t understand anything it might say to him. He wavered slightly as the stallion bumped him with his nose.
“Do you want me to get on you?”
His mount nodded, and he climbed astride once more. They trotted off, and he let his mind wander a little. Maybe after this last swing through South Africa and Botswana, he would take a small break. It wasn’t like the land would bounce back within minutes of his being gone. It would take years of constant rain for the ground to be fit to feed the millions of people living on the continent.
Famine didn’t know how long they’d ridden, but finally his stallion stopped and looked down into a crevice. Famine dismounted, and went to the edge. He tried to find what the horse was looking at.
Finally, movement caught his eye, and he gasped as he spotted the dirt-covered man curled at the bottom of the small gorge.
“What the hell?” Famine shared a look with his horse. “I wonder how he managed to get down there.”
If his horse could have shrugged, Famine was sure it would have. Famine glanced around to see if he could find a way down to the man without doing damage to himself. He couldn’t die, but he could still get hurt and he didn’t like the inconvenience of having to heal. He saw a narrow trail leading down to the bottom of the gorge. He guessed it might have been made by some kind of animal, but Famine wasn’t going to worry about it as long as he got to the mortal without hurting himself.
“Stay here. I’ll go down and see if he’s still alive,” Famine told his stallion.
Famine inched his way down the trail, holding on to any rock or root he could to keep his balance. He slid the last couple of feet, his sandals not really made for traction. Thudding to a stop, he dropped to his knees next to the man, and ignored the sharp pains shooting through his legs.
“Hey, are you alive?”
Famine thought about hitting himself in the forehead for asking such a stupid question. If he was dead, he certainly wouldn’t be able to tell Famine that. He reached out and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. The guy jerked like he’d been shot, and moaned.
“Guess that means you’re still alive,” Famine muttered. “I’m going to try and roll you over. I need to see how badly hurt you are.”
The injured man shook his head. “Arm stuck.”
“Your arm’s stuck? Where?