Moments later, Alec stepped back to look at his horse. The long lead shank had become entangled in a swamp bush; he tore it loose, believing it had been caught often and had slowed down the Black’s movements. He saw the long running wounds made by the razor-sharp saw grass. The Black’s mouth was red-raw and there were swamp burrs in his mane and tail. None of this mattered. He was alive, and together they would find their way back.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.” He found himself shaking, trembling, so he did not mount immediately. It was a natural reaction to what he had gone through, he told himself. In a moment it would pass.
He glanced up at the Black’s head. It was held high, the great eyes alert and peering into the night. Alec touched him and the Black responded with a twitching of his skin; it was as if they were two ghosts talking to each other.
Alec told him that there was nothing they could not overcome together. They belonged in a secure world, regardless of what dangers might lie in their homeward path.
The early-morning breeze grew stronger, stirring the Black’s mane and forelock. He remained still, his ears pricked up, listening to no sound that Alec could hear, scenting everything in the air. The Black was ready and alert for whatever might come.
Alec waited, knowing his own senses could not match those of his horse.
Finally the soft skin beneath his hand ceased twitching and Alec knew it was time to go. Whatever danger the Black had sensed in the night had gone. He took hold of the stallion’s mane and backed up a step before moving forward to spring up with all the strength he had left. His body rolled and twisted as he reached his horse’s back and gained his seat. Whatever happened from now on, he didn’t intend to leave his horse.
His legs closed about the Black. “Let’s go,” he said softly.
Alec decided to ride to the clearing and try to convince the captain that there was nothing to fear from Koví except the terror which his own mind created. If he could get him on his feet, he might be able to get him up on the Black. Then they could ride double.
Before them were the natural dangers of the swamp but no more than that. He was no longer in a state of utter helplessness. He had the Black; he did not feel remote and lonely any more.
He rode the Black at a slow and cautious walk down the dry slough until he reached the high ground of the hammock. Beyond was the clearing in which he had left the captain, but he saw no sign of him.
He dismounted when he reached it but held on to the Black’s lead shank for fear of losing him. He walked around the edges of the clearing, his eyes searching the heavy growth while he shouted at the top of his voice, “Captain! Where are you? Can you hear me?”
There was no answer and he stood quietly, wondering what he should do. The captain had been too ill to have traveled far. Where had he gone?
Alec covered every foot of the ground, searching for a sign. He found the small gold figurine and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. The green jade eyes winked back at him, as they had when he’d first looked at it. He studied the large evil-looking head and the twisted body. His anger mounted as he held it in his hands. To think that this ridiculous object could create terror in a man’s soul!
He drew back his arm to hurl it into the depths of the dark water. Then he checked himself, recalling what he had learned a short while before and was forgetting so soon.
The figurine was only a symbol to the eyes of the beholder. One could make of it what he wanted, see what he chose to see. It held no unique charms or powers other than what existed in one’s own mind. It was a nothing, like every other talisman. The secret lay in looking into one’s own mind, not at the figurine.
Alec shoved it in his pocket, determined to find the captain.