Martin, Baru, and Roald were quickly up the ropes. Laurie struggled a little, not having the knack of climbing, a fact he had failed to mention to the others. With silent urging from his companions, he finally cleared the rim.
Jimmy scampered quickly upward. The morning light was growing. Jimmy feared being seen against the rock face of the canyon should anyone move from the bridge. In his haste, he became incautious and slipped on an outcropping, the toe of his boot skidding off the rock. He gripped the rope as he fell a few feet and grunted as he slammed into the face of the canyon. Then pain exploded along his side and he bit back a shout. Gasping silently for breath, he turned his back to the wall of the canyon. With a spasm of movement he wrapped the rope under his left arm and gripped it tightly. Gingerly he reached inside his tunic and felt the knife he had pilfered from the dead man. When dressing, he had hastily returned it to his tunic rather than place it in his pack as he should have done. Now at least two inches of steel stuck in his side. Keeping his voice in control, he whispered, “Pull me up.”
Jimmy nearly lost his grip with the first wave of pain that struck as they hauled the rope upward. He slipped and gritted his teeth. Then he was over the rim.
“What happened?” asked the Prince.
“I got careless,” answered the boy. “Lift my tunic.”
Laurie did so and swore. Martin nodded at the boy, who returned the gesture. Then he pulled the knife and Jimmy almost fainted. Martin cut a section of a cloak and bound the boy’s side. He motioned to Laurie and Roald, who supported the boy between them as they moved away from the canyon.
As they hurried through the quickly brightening morning, Laurie said, “You just couldn’t do it the easy way, could you?”
They had managed to avoid detection while carrying Jimmy, for the first half of the day. The moredhel still did not know Moraelin had been invaded, and looked outward, awaiting the approach of those who now sought to escape.
But now they watched a moredhel lookout. He sat perched upon the outcropping that had caused so much trouble getting past before, and under which they must again pass. It was near noon, and they huddled down inside a depression, barely out of sight. Martin signaled to Galain, asking if the elf wanted to move first or second. The elf moved out, letting Martin follow. The afternoon was still, the day lacking even the slight breeze that had covered small movements when they had passed three nights earlier. Now it took all the skill the elf and Martin possessed to move a scant twenty feet without alerting the sentry.
Martin nocked an arrow and took aim over Galain’s shoulder. Galain pulled his hunting knife and rose up beside the moredhel. Galain tapped him on the shoulder. The dark elf spun at the unexpected contact, and Galain slashed his knife across his throat. The moredhel reared up and Martin’s arrow took him in the chest. Galain grabbed him about the knees, lowering him back to his sitting position. He twisted Martin’s arrow, breaking it off rather than trying to pull out the barb. In only moments the moredhel had been killed and still seemed at his post.
Martin and Galain ducked back down and faced the others. “He’ll be discovered in a few hours. They may think us on our way in and search above us first, but then they’ll be down the mountain. Now we must fly. We’re two days to the outer reaches of the elven forests if we don’t stop. Come. “
They scrambled down the trail, Jimmy wincing as he was half carried by Laurie. “If the horses are still there,” muttered Roald.
“If they’re not,” said Jimmy weakly, “at least it’s all downhill.”
They stopped only to let the horses get the minimal rest they required to survive a cross-country run. It would be likely the animals would not be usable after the dash, but that could not be helped. Arutha would let nothing prevent his return now that he possessed the means for Anita’s cure. Before, he had been a man on the edge of despair; now a flame burned within, and he would let nothing extinguish it. Through the night they rode.
Lathered, panting horses were led by exhausted riders down the woodland trail. They had entered deep forest, still in the foothills of the mountains, but close to the boundary of the elven forests. Jimmy was half-conscious from loss of blood, fatigue, and pain. The wound had opened again sometime during the night and he had been unable to do more than clutch his side. Then the boy’s eyes rolled up and he fell face down onto the trail.
When he regained consciousness, he sat up, held by Laurie and Baru while Martin and Roald wrapped him in fresh bandages cut from Martin’s cloak. “This’ll have to do until we reach Elvandar,” said Martin.
Arutha said, “If it opens again, say something. Galain, ride double with him, and don’t let him fall off.”
Once again they were in the saddle, and once again they endured the nightmare ride.