The rain stopped and they resumed their trek.
Later that afternoon, Malar said, “Young sirs, I believe I hear something.”
All conversation ceased and the three stopped walking as they listened. The frigid days of winter had given way to a promise of spring, but it was still cold enough they could see their breath in the late afternoon air. After a moment of silence, Dash was about to speak when a voice echoed from ahead. It spoke a language neither brother recognized, but they knew it was the Yabonese-like tongue of the invaders.
Glancing around for a place to hide, Jimmy pointed and mouthed the word, There.
He indicated a large stand of brush that surrounded an outcropping of rocks. Dash wasn’t sure they could secret the horses behind it, but it was the only thing nearby that offered shelter from whoever came their way.
Malar hurried around the upthrust rocks and pulled aside a low branch, allowing Jimmy and Dash to lead their horses around to a relatively sheltered hiding place. In the distance horses could be heard.
Dash’s horse’s nostrils flared and her head came up. Jimmy said, “What?”
“This witchy mare is in heat,” whispered Dash as he tugged hard on her bridle. “Pay attention to me!” he demanded.
Malar said, “You ride a mare?”
“She’s a good horse,” insisted Dash.
“Most of the time!” agreed Jimmy, hissing his words. “But not now!”
Dash tugged on the horse’s bridle, trying to focus her attention on himself. An experienced rider, Dash knew that if he could keep her attention, she might not call out to the horses that were approaching.
Jimmy’s gelding seemed relatively indifferent to the proceedings, though he did look on with some interest as the mare’s excited state built. Dash held tight to the mare’s bridle, rubbing her nose and speaking close to her ear in a reassuring fashion.
The riders came close and Dash judged there must be at least a dozen of them from the clatter. Voices cut through the air and a man laughed. These were men who patrolled a familiar area and expected nothing out of the ordinary.
Dash held tight to the bridle and continued to speak softly to his mare as the horses came to the point of closest approach on the trail. Suddenly Dash’s horse pulled backwards and her head came up.
For an instant there was a tiny hope she might come back to him, but then she called out her greeting, a loud whinny.
Suddenly shouts filled the air and other horses answered the mare’s call. Jimmy didn’t hesitate. “That way!”
Malar shoved through underbrush and ignored scratches from branches as he went where Jimmy had directed. Jimmy came next, leading his gelding, eyes wide and nostrils flaring from excitement. The mare balked and resisted as she screamed her welcome to the other horses. A stallion’s herd cry answered, and Dash knew the only way he could control his mare was from her back. Letting her head come around toward the stallion, he quickly swung up onto her back, exposing himself to view.
He didn’t hesitate, and slammed heels into her flanks. Urging her into a gallop, he seemed to burst from the underbrush toward those riders arrayed on the trail. Then he was past them, moving away from his brother and Malar, and die chase was on.
From a vantage point a short distance off, Jimmy turned and saw the riders wheel and charge after Dash. Malar, almost out of breath, puffed as he said, “Sir, will they catch him?”
Jimmy swore. “Probably. But if they don’t, he should try to get back to that farmhouse. That’s what we planned.”
“Shall we turn around?” asked the servant.
Jimmy was silent. After a moment he said, “No. Dash will either be captured, in which case we can’t help him escape, or he’ll win free. If he gets back to that farmhouse we found the day we met you, he’ll wait one or two days, then return to Darkmoor. If we go now, we’ll have no more information than he will.”
“We go to Krondor?”
“We go to Krondor,” said Jimmy. He glanced around, seeking any sign of other riders in the area. As the sound of Dash and his pursuers faded into die distance, he pointed and said, “That way.”
As quietly as they could, the pair set off.
Dash rode as hard as he could, despite the balky mare, who wanted to turn and greet the stallions behind. Every hint of hesitation from her brought a hard kick to her sides as he used every skill he had to keep her heading down a windy woodland trail made dangerous by mud and ice, overhanging branches, and sudden turns.