“And you, too, Captain.”
They parted company with the Krondorian patrol, who turned northward, while Jimmy and Malar continued southwest. They rode through quiet countryside, scrub grass, and what once might have been farmland, but which had known the tread of die conqueror’s boot too often. Keshians on their way to the Kingdom, and Kingdom soldiers on their way to Kesh, had turned these rolling hills and sparse woodlands into a no-man’s-land in the last hundred years. The rich lands of the Vale of Dreams to the east kept farmers and their families struggling despite the constant threat of war between two nations rolling over them. The lands through which Jimmy and Malar rode offered no such bounty. They might be the only two men for fifty miles in any direction.
As the sun sank low in the western sky, Malar asked, “What shall we do now, my lord?”
Jimmy looked around and pointed to a small dell near a clear-running stream. “Make camp for the night. Tomorrow we’ll continue toward Port Vykor.”
Malar had unsaddled the horses and brushed them down. Jimmy had discovered he was a competent enough groom along with his other talents. Jimmy said, “You feed the horses and I’ll gather some firewood.”
Malar said, “Yes, m’lord.”
Jimmy moved around the campsite, finding enough small branches and sticks to make a reasonable fire.
After the fire was ready, Malar set about making an acceptable meal: hot trail biscuits, a mix of dried beef and vegetables chopped and mixed into a pot of rice, to which he added spices which made it quite flavorful. Malar produced a ceramic bottle of wine from Darkmoor. He even had a pair of cups.
As they ate, Jimmy said, “Port Vykor is a bit out of the way for you. If you’re up to the risk, you may have that horse and ride on to the east. You’re still north of the frontier and should be able to reach the vale safely.”
Malar shrugged. “I will reach the vale eventually, my lord. My master is almost certainly dead, but perhaps his family has conspired to keep his business afloat and I can be of use to them. But I would rather spend a little more time in your company—the fierceness of your blade makes me more comfortable on the road than I would be alone.”
“You managed well enough for those winter months you wandered in the wilderness.”
“Of necessity, but not by choice. And most of that time was spent starving and hiding.”
Jimmy nodded. He ate his meal and sipped his wine. “Is this off?” he asked.
Malar sipped his wine. “Not that I can tell, young lord.”
Jimmy shrugged. “It’s odd for this type of wine. Something metallic.”
Malar took another sip. “Not that I can notice, sir. Perhaps you are just getting an odd aftertaste from the food. Maybe with the next drink it will taste differently.”
Jimmy sipped again and swallowed. “No, it’s definitely off.” He set the cup aside. “I think some water would be better.” Malar started to stand, and Jimmy said, “I’ll get it.” He started walking toward the creek and suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. He turned and looked to where the horses were tied. The horse seemed to be moving away from him, and then he felt as if he stepped into a hole, for he was now a great deal closer to the ground than before. He looked down and saw that he was on his knees, and as he tried to stand, his head swam. He fell hard to the ground and rolled over on his back. The face of Malar Enares moved into his view, and from a great distance, said, “I believe the wine was off, young Lord James.”
The features of the man moved out of view and Jimmy tried to follow him. Jimmy rolled over and, lying with his head on his arm, he could see Malar move to Jimmy’s horse, and open the pouches with all his messages to Duke Duko. He glanced at several of them, nodded, and put them back into the pouch.
Jimmy felt his legs getting cold and felt a distant stab of panic. His thinking was growing foggy and he couldn’t remember what it was he was supposed to do. His throat was tightening and his breathing was growing labored. Jimmy tried to force open his mouth with his left hand, which now felt as if he were wearing huge gloves. Dull sensations reached his brain, and suddenly he gagged on his own fingers, vomit rushing up through his mouth and nose. He gasped and choked, spat, and groaned aloud. His body wracked with pain as he felt his stomach heave again.
Malar’s voice came from a great distance away. “It’s a pity such a fair young lord has to come to such a messy and undignified end, but such are the necessities of war.”
Somewhere in a dim evening, Jimmy heard a horse riding away, and then he was hit by another agonizing cramp and everything faded from view.