With a heavy heart, Garinor left his hometown and took off to the northeast. He knew that if he went into hiding, there would be no relief for his situation. He doubted that the pursuit would simply end and he also felt that if he ever resurfaced, someone would be waiting for him.
He wasn’t fully recovered from his escape that morning, but his resolve to protect his family by leaving them helped him to ignore some of his pains. He moved with purpose, determined to find the mysterious cave in the mountains and the artifact that seemed to be the key to it all.
Walking through the familiar forest again, he was reminded of his friends, of how Tomli, Marrin, and Besfa had stepped in to protect him. He remembered Besfa’s cry of pain and he hoped that he was not badly injured. But Garinor didn’t keep his thoughts focused on his friends, for they slowed his progress and he wanted this part of his journey to end as quickly as possible.
Out of habit now, he looked around for odd movements in the area, making sure that no one was following him. His neck hurt from all the ducking and turning, but it was a necessary precaution. And when he saw rising dust from the south, he knew he had acted wisely.
He was already out of the forest by then. To the north there was the hut of Oswande and to the east a grassy hill. He’d been at that crossroad just days before, and he paused to reflect on it. His hesitation cost him, though, as three riders sauntered toward him. “Ho there!” called the woman in the lead.
He held on to his resolve and he replied with a nod, “Good day to you.”
The woman jumped down from her horse and pulled the sword out of her scabbard. Garinor leaped away from her, but he had no need to be concerned, for she bent down on her knee and set the sword in the grass. “We come as friends and offer our help.”
“Who… are you?”
“We are those who protest the happenings of late. Too many boys your age are vanishing without a trace. We feel that it is like removing the third floor of a tower. The whole of it would tumble and fall. We do not wish to see our land fall.”
He stared at her in disbelief.
“We now patrol the lands and hide from the prince’s sentries, for they are the ones who would harm you. We can guide you to where you want to go and fight on your behalf if need be.” She crossed her arm before her chest in homage. “Simply tell us where you would go and we will take you with haste.”
The two men with her said nothing and even the horses stood resolute as they awaited his answer. He was too close to home for his liking now and so he accepted. “I seek a cave in the northeast near the mountains.”
She turned to her companions. “Such coincidence,” she commented rhetorically. “Word has been that others seek the same location.”
Darkness clouded Garinor’s features. He had a good idea he knew who was behind the search. It had to be the prince. “How fast can you take me there?”
“You seek it with haste?”
“It’s important. And it may hold all the answers.”
“You will ride with me and we will press this fine steed into service. He will take us swiftly, for it is in his lineage to race.” She turned to the others. “A diversion, I think, will help.”
“Understood,” one of them said. “You’re certain you don’t want one of us to take him?”
She smiled. “We need speed and I certainly weigh less than big men like you.”
It was a bit of a struggle for Garinor to climb onto the horse and he felt a little uncomfortable holding onto the woman as she bent her head low and set the horse into a sprint.
The world whisked by. He had been on a running horse at the start of his journey, but that was nothing compared to the speed of this beast. Garinor marveled that it didn’t trip over its own legs. Truly, in a race this horse would best them all.
They stopped only when the horse needed to drink. It seemed to enjoy the excitement of the wild ride. If they lingered long at a pond, it stamped its feet and huffed into the air, anxious to be riding the wind again.
They darted past a lonely farm on a wheat-lined road and they veered onto a series of winding paths that told Garinor that the woman and the horse must have lived in the area. The sun dipped down and drenched them in darkness, but onward they went with occasional rests to calm the horse and to eat the few morsels Garinor had taken from home, combined with the rider’s own stash.
The horse wearied and wanted to stop for an extended time. It was sweaty and huffed heavily into the night air. The woman rubbed the steed’s face tenderly and crooned softly, “Just a little more, my friend.”
They mounted one last time. The moon was high in the sky, illuminating their path, and they set out with the feeling that before the night was through, they would find their destination.