Garinor couldn’t let the prince get away without a fight. He decided that he could use his proximity to his advantage and he could take on the unsuspecting prince before anyone else caught on.
He kept low as he skulked about; he couldn’t risk the prince seeing him as he crept closer. His limbs shook with what he meant to do, but this man had caused so much turmoil that it would be just as criminal not to act when the opportunity was sitting right there.
Garinor looked around for a weapon to use and found only a fist-sized rock. It would have to do. If he could unseat the man, it would be a more even match. The prince fondled the horn again and looked up into the darkening sky. It seemed as if he were going to use it soon, but whether it was to call for reinforcements or a retreat, Garinor didn’t intend to find out. He closed one eye, took aim, and let the rock fly.
The stone collided with the back of the prince’s head and he toppled to the side of his horse, then fell off completely. Garinor pounced on him and started swinging his fists, but the prince was already up on his feet, shaking off his fall with ease.
In the growing twilight and amidst flailing arms, the prince didn’t recognize the boy as someone he had been looking for. He saw only a nuisance. He kicked out, catching Garinor in the ribs and knocking him over all too easily. Garinor used the force of the kick to his advantage. He rolled around and sprang back up to his feet. He lunged ahead and plowed into the prince’s stomach, toppling over onto him. Enraged, the prince lashed out and grabbed Garinor’s hair and wrenched his head away from him, throwing the boy to the ground again.
Garinor was like a man possessed. He ignored his pain, jumped up again, and pummeled the prince with his hands. But the prince had been resting for most of the afternoon and Garinor had been jogging away from the orphanage. His attacks quickly lost strength and he wouldn’t be able to maintain the fury for long.
The prince seemed to notice this, too. Neglecting his sword at first, he bobbed in and out of Garinor’s range and released a haughty laugh that chilled Garinor to the bone. Garinor wanted nothing more than to wipe the smugness off the man’s face, but he was winded, and it wasn’t easy to keep moving about.
Some of the combatants in the field below caught sight of the prince and the boy. One combatant from each side broke off from the main fighting to give pursuit; all the others returned to their own brawls in earnest.
The prince’s man started by running up the rise leading to the prince and Garinor as they wrestled. Where he stopped halfway up the slope, the woman who was rushing toward Garinor did not stop. She pressed her tired legs into the soil and ushered herself up the hill with haste, sword clutched in hand.
Garinor didn’t think he could breathe anymore. It was so hard to draw in any air as he dodged blows and tried to strike his own. Where he found the strength to push onward, he never knew, but he understood that to quit now was to die. As he concluded this, the prince glanced over Garinor’s shoulder and saw the two fighters coming to join them. He grinned when he saw his own man stop and then the prince let Garinor get in a lucky jab to his jaw. He collapsed instantly.
Garinor stood over him, waiting for the ruse. The man was full of them. He wondered if it was going to come as a kick or a fistful of dirt to his eyes. He didn’t have much time to think about it, but he had to remind himself to be careful.
Of all the scenarios that raced through his mind during those few moments while he tried to catch his breath, the one that he didn’t think of was the more detrimental. Garinor took in a gulp of air and then cried out in maddening pain, losing all the air he was trying to draw in. He looked down. An arrow stuck out of his chest. As he fell, he heard a deep low note from the prince’s horn, calling for a cease as the sun fell out of the sky.
And as the sun disappeared, so too did Garinor’s awareness.