Garinor decided that returning to the hunters after their supplies had been stolen was a particularly bad idea. He tugged at the unconscious man to knock him off the wagon, hoping that it might throw off any pursuit, but he wasn’t able to move him.
Running around to the horse, Garinor hoisted himself up and snapped the reins once, bringing the beast into an immediate sprint. The horse kept to the road, which was buffered on either side by stalks of wheat. The path split several times, but since Garinor had no idea where to go, he let the horse lead. His only hope was that the animal had run the road before and it would guide him somewhere.
His journey didn’t last long. He peeked over his shoulder and saw a rider in the distance rushing in his direction. It had to be one of the hunters on the other horse. Before long, the rider would catch up to the wagon. There was no escape for him this way.
In desperation, Garinor released his hold on the horse and leaped to the left side. He landed with a sickening crack and his arm broke in several places. His body tumbled along in the wheat until it finally came to a painful stop. The horse and wagon kept rolling on and the pursuing rider chased after it.
Garinor still had a chance to get away. He pushed himself to his feet and tried to run off perpendicular to the road, hoping to become lost in the wheat fields, but every step jostled his arm and the sparks of pain made him dizzy. He could only go a few steps before he collapsed again.
Not long later, there was another commotion behind him. Someone was looking for him. He stayed still, hoping his broken body wouldn’t be found. But then words flowed over him and he knew there was no hope.
“So the old thief was right about you.”
Garinor tried to say something to defend himself, something so Lorrel would understand that he wasn’t plotting against the king. However, the man’s sword arm was faster than the boy’s pain-wracked voice. It was over.