Garinor didn’t like the look of things. He could see they were a very determined group, even if they seemed somewhat at odds with each other. The stone was important to them, but his life was important to him. He agreed to hand over the stone.
At once, Garinor was hoisted to his feet and his bonds were cut. The woman held out her hand and she waited for Garinor to place the stone into it. He reached into his pocket, wondering why they hadn’t taken it while he was asleep, and he felt the hot rock in his palm. It was nondescript now, without even the slice in the side that had been there before he cut himself trying to fit the arrowhead inside. Reluctantly, Garinor handed the stone over.
The two camps broke into screams and shouts. People grabbed each other and kicked out, dancing wildly, splashing mud everywhere. He was too stunned to even move from his location. Garinor watched in amazement as every member of the two camps linked arms and formed a huge spiraling chain, rocking back and forth like an enormous serpent.
Eventually the dancing subsided and two horses were brought over. Upon one sat a young man, and Garinor was ushered onto the other horse. The young man held both sets of reins and, before Garinor understood what was happening, they were trotting off to the north with haste, as if it were a bright sunny day and not a rain-infested one.
They made progress swiftly across the landscape and the horses rode well, even when the landscape became rockier and less stable. Garinor clutched his horse for support and the poor beast struggled to keep in control under the fierce grip.
Then something happened that created a greater panic. An intermittent buzzing sound filled the air. Garinor ignored it because the two horses quickened their paces in fear. Moments later, there was a loud cry of agony and Garinor realized belatedly it came from his escort. He turned to see the young man fall off his horse, clutching an arrow that pierced his neck.
Chills raced down Garinor’s spine. It was like the start of his journey all over again, but now he had control over his own horse. He fumbled to take the reins, which wasn’t easy now that the horse was spooked. The horse lowered its head and gathered speed, unaware of where it was headed, just knowing that the scary sounds were falling away.
Then at last the horse slowed down and a new catastrophe fell upon Garinor, literally. A large fishing net flew out of the sky and wrapped around him and the horse. Tossing wildly, the horse tried to free itself, but managed only to unseat Garinor, who fell with a splash of mud then rolled desperately away so as not to be trampled by the frightened animal. As he went, Garinor managed to pull the net off the horse and it bolted into the distance, neighing in horror.
Garinor couldn’t give the horse’s flight much attention. He heard other hoof-beats as his pursuers dashed in to meet him. He was dully aware that they came from more than one direction, and when he was pulled upright, he could see a few archers among the pack of them.
Eight men and three women bound him and removed the net, packing it away into a strange catapult that had launched it at him from the distance. The group grunted orders in low tones so Garinor could barely catch what they were saying. He was lifted onto another horse and lashed into the saddle awkwardly. It was terribly uncomfortable.
They trotted off casually toward the north and, as they did so, the sun sank lower in the sky and the rain finally subsided. Evening was fast approaching and the group stopped only once to water the horses and to eat a snack.
At last they entered an encampment that was hosted at the bottom of a hill. From his twisted vantage point, Garinor saw several fires and he smelled food in the air. Tents rose up all around and from the sounds around him they were struggling to dry their wares after the day’s rain. Garinor was taken off the horse and his bonds were cut.
Before him stood a tall, well-toned man who seemed twice his actual height from the powerful look in his eyes. He stared at Garinor in disbelief and then his face broke into a warm, welcoming smile. At once, the image of an imposing figure melted away and the man looked like someone Garinor could come to like and trust. And yet, as he stared, he realized who he was looking at.
It was the prince.
Thoughts raced through Garinor’s mind as he stared agape at the man before him. Wasn’t the prince trying to kill him?
Before he could dwell on the events, the prince came forward and reached an amiable arm around Garinor’s shoulder. “Welcome, friend! I am so glad my companions have found you at last!” He turned to the ones who had brought him to the camp. “Dine well, friends, you have done this country a great service tonight.”
Garinor caught the beaming pride in the men and women who had brought him to this camp against his will.
He was thoroughly confused and the prince noted as much. “I assure you no harm will come to you here. Come inside and eat and relax and then we will discuss this further.”
He was taken into a lush silk tent laden with soft pillows and a low table. The prince left him there while he tended to other activities, though the prince’s chamberlain came in soon with food and drink. He was given a well-cooked piece of venison and cool wine to drink. They didn’t speak; Garinor had no idea what to say anyway. He simply ate the food and wondered where all of this was going to lead him.
Not long later, the chamberlain escorted him to another tent, where the prince awaited him.