There was no light for him to see by. He strained to open his eyes, but it was of no use. He couldn’t do it. The entire weight of the world crushed down on him, his body broken after his horrid fall. No sounds echoed around him and Garinor knew what it was to be dead.
Into the darkness, timid flashes of light appeared. They were indistinct at first, mere blobs that pushed aside the blackness. But then they resolved into form. He saw glimpses of his life as it flitted by. Catches of his mother and father sharing a meal with him and his siblings. Staged battles in the forest with his friends. Groups of students in a school learning to read and write. Water flying as he splashed in the River Cross. Horses chasing after him.
He grabbed onto the memories as they went, hoping to find some way to his own inner soul. He wanted to return to his quest and stop the hunters who were after him. He pulled desperately to keep himself whole. Lashing on to his desire for answers, he thought of seeking out the king to learn why he had been summoned, or to speak with the prince and find a means of resolving the violence.
He concentrated harder and the lights grew brighter, coming together slowly. A burning sensation filled him then and it drew his attention away from everything else. He turned his thoughts downward to where the bloodstone was in his pocket. He felt it screaming out for him like a beacon. He answered its call.
Reaching his mind toward the fiery haze, Garinor’s senses came back together. The world was upside down and his legs were over his head, but he felt no pain. Twisting his back, he fell flat and the heated rock blazed more powerfully. He pulled it from his pocket and examined its smooth surface.
The scrapes and bruises he had scored from his tumble melted away, and as they did, layers of dust fell away from the stone. Little by little it vanished, restoring his body in the process.
He felt calm and subdued as he lay there, gazing absently up at the sun. No sense of panic remained with him right then and he knew that he could continue his quest and perhaps put an end to the strange events. He wasn’t even fazed when the two riders reached the hilltop and dismounted in order to climb down and retrieve his prone body.
He recognized them instantly. They were the two riders from the day before who had wanted to kill him. One of them walked with a mild limp from the bite wound Garinor had inflicted. They could see that he was alive, breathing easily, and they shook their heads in wonder, surveying the area which evidenced his fall.
“How did he survive that?”
Bewildered but determined, the two men acted without pause. They threw a blanket over him and wrapped him tightly in it. He felt himself lifted into the air and lashed to one horse’s back. There wasn’t anything he could do, so he didn’t struggle. He had been given another chance to face his destiny; surely it wouldn’t end quite so soon. He kept his body as relaxed as possible and tried to match the horse’s galloping rhythm.
They rode along for hours and stopped a few times, but they never gave him food or drink. As long last, A cacophony of voices rose and fell. He could also hear the crackling of a large fire, or perhaps a series of smaller fires. He wondered where he was and if was going to find any refuge.
As evening fell, the horses stopped, and he was brought down from his perch. Unwrapped and held upright, Garinor was presented to an angular man who looked as if he was relatively athletic and prouder than all the others combined. Garinor knew without a doubt that this was the prince.
“Greetings, friend,” the prince said warmly, stepping forward and extending his hand.
Though parched and hungry, Garinor minded his manners and returned the gesture. “Hello, your highness.”
“You seem a bit worse for wear this day. My apologies. It seems your escort did not do well to take care of your needs.” He cast a narrow look at the two men, who shrank in response. “Still, they managed to bring you here in one piece and for that we must be grateful.”
Garinor looked at him skeptically. His mind reeled and told him that the prince was trying to kill him, not help him. It didn’t make sense to him that his needs would even cross the prince’s mind, but he kept silent.
“Come, then, friend. Retire to my tent tonight and dine on a meal that should compensate for your trials.” He reached his arm around the befuddled boy and guided him to a silk tent off to the western edge of camp.
Instead of a chair, Garinor was seated on a pile of cushions. He found it hard to sit upright, so he spent some time rearranging them into something more comfortable.
Once he was settled, the prince made his apologies that he had numerous things to attend to at the moment and then he left, bowing slightly out of the tent. It wasn’t long later that a young man entered bearing a tray of food and drink. He was given cool water and wine to drink and a plate of venison seasoned with numerous herbs. Though it was a little tough from the fire, it tasted delicious and Garinor had a mingled sense of joy and disappointment as he reached for the last bite. He was thoroughly full, but he also wanted more.
With a heavy stomach and a head full of wine, Garinor’s thoughts spun freely. He had quested and now he was in the prince’s camp, eating in the prince’s own tent. He couldn’t believe his luck. It was almost worth finding the bloodstone and losing it to the awful fall that broke his neck. Now, fully healed and full of food, Garinor set all of his troubles aside and let the night claim him.