Garinor looked at the cows and didn’t think he could hide away in the herd for long. He also didn’t think it would be restful, and after the long, jouncy wagon ride, he needed to stretch out.
The sentry paced the yard with purpose. He seemed to be stalling. Then with a heavy sigh he went to the main door of the house and went inside. Garinor took his chance. There weren’t many places for him to hide along the way, but he darted from one to the next until he reached the plow outside the barn door. The door was open and he couldn’t hear any noise from inside, so he went in.
Two horses whinnied when he passed through the door but otherwise there was no greeting for him, which suited him perfectly. The barn was not very large, but there was an upper tier and an enormous mountain of hay at the back. He wondered about diving into the hay and hiding there, but it was so massive, he didn’t think he’d be able to find his way back out again.
Chains dangled at various places along the roof and lanterns hung along the support beams. None of them were lit at the moment and each was poised over a basin of drinking water for the horses. Garinor thought this was clever, for if the lanterns fell, they would likely drop into the water and be snuffed out, rather than striking anything flammable and burning down the barn.
A ladder across the way caught his eye and he scampered up it hastily, feeling like someone was about to appear behind him and end his journey. His haste served him well, for moments later two figures entered the barn, carrying large mounds of fabric.
“Now, Lorrel, you know why,” crooned a middle-aged woman wearing a sturdy house dress.
“Yes, Mother, I know, I just wondered if they could all fit anyway.” Garinor recognized the voice as the one the laughing man had called Patch. “It’s fine, though. We’ve been camping out in the open and even in here will be an improvement to that.”
The woman released a tired sigh. “I still don’t know why you travel with such rabble, Son.” She moved toward one of the empty horse stalls with the blankets in her arms and started laying them down, making beds for the incoming guests.
Garinor peered down at the two of them. The young man shook his head and turned around, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. Even from his perch, Garinor could see a discolored gash on Lorrel’s face, which had undoubtedly earned him his nickname.
His voice took on a weary tone. “They aren’t rabble, Mother. We’re all in the prince’s employ. You know this.”
They bantered in bored tones as if they’d had this discussion many times. All the while, they moved among the empty stalls and set down the blankets.
“This mission is different,” said Lorrel in response to his mother’s latest rebuke.
“How so, dear?” Her voice was light and airy, but carried a heavy doubt.
“There is a plot against the king. We’re working to stop it before it’s too late.”
She gasped and clutched at her heart. “Truly?”
“Yes, Mother,” he said. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything to anyone, but that’s why we’ve been coming and going these past months. Now we’re on the right trail. We’ve nearly found him.” He turned to her and placed his hands warmly on her shoulders. “I should tell you, Mother, that he is a boy not far from entering manhood. We have renderings of his likeness that I’ll show you later. If you see him, Mother, you must be careful.”
Her face turned to one of horror. “A boy?”
Lorrel’s face went solemn. “I’m afraid so. He killed one of the king’s guards the other day and who knows how many others. We’re under orders to bring him to justice.”
“This world becomes so violent,” the woman whimpered. Then she looked up at her son. “Please, Lorrel, don’t be the one to ‘bring justice’ upon a boy, no matter how vile he may be.”
Garinor saw Lorrel nod silently, and he thought he knew what the hunter was thinking. His mother would be mortified if she knew that he and his group had burned a small hamlet all in the name of finding that boy. Part of him wanted to call out the truth right then and there, but he couldn’t give up his position.
Not much later, the mother and son left the barn and went into the house, presumably to start readying food for the rest of the hunters. Garinor moved around the upper tier to find a better place to hide, which also gave him the opportunity to reach and stretch and iron out some of the knots in his back.
As he peered around, he noticed several bushels of fruits and vegetables scattered about. He climbed down and stuffed as much as he could into his pockets then returned to the upper tier, all the while keeping an eye out for anyone approaching.
As the sun sank down from the sky, the other hunters returned, some alone, some in pairs. They all piled into the house for a meal that Garinor could smell wafting through the air. Just as he was feeling complacent, a terrifying noise destroyed the silence.
Three dogs came tearing out of the house, barking and howling. Catching his breath in fear, Garinor held very still. The noises continued unabated, but he noticed that they were moving away. Then a dull thundering followed. He risked a glance out the nearest window and saw the dogs herding the cows away for the night.
It took a few minutes for his heart to stop racing.
He settled himself back down and closed his eyes for a rest. Soon the hunters would be finished with their meal and would head into here to sleep for the night. He checked his hiding place and felt certain no one would come all the way up here and peer into this alcove in the corner, where a spare saddle and horse blanket lingered unattended.
While he sat there, thinking, he started to feel angry. He was being blamed for the death of that guard who had first taken him from his home to see the king. The hunter, Lorrel, either hadn’t seen the arrows sticking out of the man’s chest or was a very good liar. Then Garinor assumed the operation in place was large enough that this group was not the same one that had originally pursued him from his hometown. That also explained why, after setting the hamlet of Arvion ablaze, the sentries had ventured onward instead of staying behind to continue looking for him. There must be others on the lookout there.
Garinor was infuriated, too, that he was being tagged a traitor, trying to imperil the king, with whom he had no gripes. Not only that, but the prince was leading the charge. He guessed then that the prince was aware of the prophecy and was determined to twist it to his own favor.
The thoughts spun. He was right to have set about finding the prince to put a stop to all of this.
Also, if the prince was determined to sway the prophecy and his personal horde was pursuing him, then it could only mean one thing—
Yells and shouts distracted Garinor. Dinner was apparently over and the hunters were coming to the barn to find sleep for the night. From the catcalls and wailing, it sounded as if they had taken in quite a bit of wine and ale during the course of the meal. They playfully shoved at each other, stumbled about, or fell flat on their faces. One of the women seemed more composed than the others, but she was only fighting the urge to be sick, it seemed, for moments later she lost the battle.
One by one they drifted off to sleep and the barn fell to silence. Garinor needed sleep as well. He wasn’t sure if he should try to rouse himself before the hunters awoke or after they had left. He assumed they would reconvene in the house for breakfast before continuing the journey. He didn’t have a way of making certain he awoke as planned, but he thought if he didn’t cover himself with the horse blanket then the cold morning air would probably awaken him early. Otherwise, he would likely stir with the hunters.