When Garinor woke up the next morning, he requested an audience with Chief and explained his choice to go see the king. They debated the issue for some time, but in the end Chief acquiesced and gave Garinor his blessing. He couldn’t spare anyone to guard him, though Song piped up later and offered to do so. But Garinor knew it was a dangerous decision and he wouldn’t have felt right taking anyone away from the group.
Song gave Garinor a deep hug and patted him on the shoulder. “Barely knew you, but you grew on me like a brother. Listen,” he added, bending close and reaching for his own neck. “If you ever get into trouble, look for someone with one of these.” He pulled out a gold chain upon which swung the likeness of a dagger clutched in a fist.
Garinor gasped. “I’ve seen that before.”
Song nodded. “You’ll see it again before too long, I wouldn’t doubt. Most of us who’ve got them can be trusted.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“And Garinor,” he whispered, then glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. “I’m Kihel. Now go!”
Garinor smiled at his new friend, nodded, then turned and jogged away from the camp with a warm feeling in his heart and a merry song echoing from behind him, cheering him on.
As he went, Garinor took care to cover his tracks. He didn’t want anyone to be able to trace his steps back to the others, even though their numbers would be creating a much more obvious trail of their own. The area was littered with broken stones, as if an ancient rockslide had strewn them all over the hillside and the grass fought back trying to cover them all again. He pounced from one large stone to another wherever he could, which kept him from leaving footsteps in the soft soil.
He worked his way in this manner for a couple of hours, when he took his first rest. Chief had sent him with a pack of food and water that would last him the two days he would need to reach the castle. If he headed mostly west and kept a moderate pace, he had been told he would reach the palace wall by afternoon the next day. Garinor was determined to meet that goal.
After his light snack, he kept moving as quickly as he could, hiding in shadows and weaving around trees, even running up in the center of a brook, all in the hopes of burying his trail. He no longer expected someone would follow it back to the others. Now it was for self-preservation.
When he stopped for rest, he also practiced pulling his sword from its scabbard and sheathing it again. It took some coordination and trial and error, and though he knew there was no way he could truly fend off an attack, he at least wanted to have a fighting chance.
Eventually the night came and Garinor wrapped himself in a blanket he had been given for the trek. He settled himself in a copse of trees where two large trunks were nestled close together and provided some shelter for him. He slept lightly and awoke a few times during the night to various sounds, but none threatened him.
Everything felt aligned for him for the first time since the start of his adventure six days earlier. He met no travelers or dangerous animals on the road, his food lasted, and he made good time. There were some people off in the distance occasionally, even a horse-drawn wagon, but no one was ever close enough to cross his path.
Halfway into the day, he saw the giant castle wall at last. He jogged up to the eastern wall and admired the sheer beauty of it. The wall was sealed end to end in perfection. The masons who had toiled over the wall must have worked for ages to shape the boulders to the right sizes and to fill in every crack and crevice with thick mortar. The wall felt smooth to the touch, part of which was from years of weathering wearing it down.
He remembered Chief’s advice and the followed the wall to the north, then all the way west over a bridge and around to the main entrance of the castle. He noted places in the wall where thin black lines ran from top to bottom, and he dreamed of hidden entrances that could be used in the event of a siege. Pressing on them did nothing—not that he expected it to, the walls were so enormous.
At long last, he worked his way around to the gatehouse, which was carved out of the same immense stones as the rest of the wall. A long road stretched out toward the southwest from the gatehouse. If the archers hadn’t interrupted his original journey, he would have traveled up that road on horseback days ago.
Standing in front of the gatehouse were two guards in shining iron armor, which sparkled in the bright afternoon sun. “Good tidings,” greeted one of them. “Have you business with the castle this day?”
“I do,” he said, trying to sound firm before the imposing figure. “I was summoned by the king.” He then felt foolish as the guard scrutinized him. He thought for sure that his ragged clothes were cause enough to have him sent away, and then where would he be? He knew he looked a mess from traveling in the rain and sleeping on the forest floor, but the guard’s words surprised him.
“Welcome, then. Go into the inner chamber and from there you will be cleansed for presentation to his majesty.” He motioned to the door behind him.
Garinor gave his thanks before stepping forward and walking through the door.