Guy said, “I’m not worried over my fate. Look, I’ve what’s left of a small nation streaming down into Yabon. I just . . . just want to ensure they’re well cared for.” His voice revealed a deep sense of despair. “I vowed to rebuild Armengar. We both know that will never be.”
Arutha said, “We’ll work out something to bring your people into the Kingdom, Guy.” He studied the form that rode slowly beside him in the darkness. “But what of yourself?”
“I have no concern for myself. But . . . look, consider interceding with Lyam on Armand’s behalf . .. if he got out. He’s a fine general and able leader. If I had taken the crown, he would have been the next Duke of Bas-Tyra. With no son of my own, I couldn’t imagine a better choice. You’ll need his sort, Arutha, if we’re to weather all that’s coming. His only fault is an overblown sense of personal loyalty and honour.”
Arutha promised to consider the request and they lapsed into silence. They continued riding until well after midnight, when Arutha and Guy agreed upon a halt. Guy approached Galain while they rested the horses and said, “We’re now farther into these woods than any Armengarian has travelled and returned.”
Galain said, “I’ll keep alert.” He studied Guy’s face. “I have heard of you, Guy du Bas-Tyra. At last recounting, you were something of an object of distrust,” he said with elven understatement. “It seems the situation has changed.” He nodded toward Arutha.
Guy smiled a grim smile. “For the moment. Fate and circumstance occasionally forge unexpected alliances.”
The elf grinned. “That is true. You have an elf-like appreciation. I would like to hear the tale someday.”
Guy nodded. Amos approached and said, “I thought I heard something that way.” Guy looked where he indicated. Then both discovered Galain gone.
Arutha came over. “I heard it also, as did Galain. He’ll return soon.”
Guy hunkered down, resting while alert. “Let’s hope he’s able.”
Jimmy and Locklear tended the horses in silence. Jimmy studied his friend. In the gloom he could only see a little of the boy’s expression, but he knew that Locklear still hadn’t recovered from Bronwynn’s death. Then Jimmy was visited by a strange sense of guilt. He hadn’t thought of Krinsta since the retreat from the wall. Jimmy tried to shrug aside the irritation. Hadn’t they been lovers from desire and entered freely into the relationship? Had any promises been made? Yes and no, but Jimmy felt nettled at his own lack of concern. He didn’t wish any harm to Krinsta but he didn’t see much sense in worrying about her. She was as able to take care of herself as any woman Jimmy had met, a soldier by training since childhood. No, what troubled Jimmy was the absence of concern. He vaguely sensed something was lacking. He became irritated. He’d had enough concern with others in his life, with Anita’s injury and Arutha’s mock death. Becoming involved with other people was a bloody inconvenience. Finally he felt his irritation grow to anger.
He moved up to Locklear and grabbed his friend roughly, swinging him about. “Stop it!” he hissed.
Locklear’s eyes widened in surprise. “Stop what?”
“This bloody damn - silence. Bronwynn’s dead and it wasn’t your fault.”
Locklear’s expression remained unchanged, but slowly moisture gathered in his eyes, then tears began to run down his face. Pulling his shoulder out from under Jimmy’s hand with a shrug, he quietly said, “The horses.” He moved away, his face still streaked with tears.
Jimmy sighed. He didn’t know what had possessed him to act that way, but suddenly he felt stupid and thoughtless. And he wondered how Krinsta was faring, if she was still alive. He turned to the horses and struggled to push away strong emotions.
Galain returned at a silent run. “A light of some sort, far into the woods. I ventured close, but heard movement. They were stealthy, almost passing unnoticed, but I did hear signs of their coming this way.”
Guy moved toward his horse, as did the others. Galain mounted, and when the others were ready, he pointed. He whispered, “We must move to the edge of the forest, as far from the light as we can without being seen by Murmandamus’s scouts.”
He spurred his horse and began to ride forward. He had moved about a dozen paces when a figure dropped out of the trees from above, knocking him from the saddle.
More attackers leaped down from the trees and all the riders were dragged from their horses. Arutha hit the ground and rolled, coming to his feet with his sword in hand. He regarded his opponent, looking into an elf-like face set in a mask of hatred. Then he saw the bowmen behind, drawing a bead upon him, and with a strange sense of finality, he thought, is this how it will end at the last? The prophecy was wrong.