Garinor decided that the Seer’s instructions had led him to meet the army, so he snapped the reins and urged the horse forward. The horse was unhappy with this decision and it snorted and pawed the ground, but eventually followed its rider’s command.
It didn’t take long for Garinor to reach the back line of the army. As he approached, some of the soldiers turned about and hailed him, demanding he announce his purpose.
“I am Garinor,” he said. “I’m running an errand and I was looking to pass through to the north.”
“What errand?” one of the men asked.
He wasn’t ready with a response and the man caught the hesitation. Garinor covered by acting affronted at the question. “It’s my errand, thank you, and I mean you no harm or disrespect. I just need to pass through.”
A second man joined the conversation. “Likkle boy like you, ridin’ that there stud? Na likely. Wot ya really affer? Spyin’ on us? Reportin’ back’n to th’ enemies?”
Garinor shook his head in annoyance and rummaged through his pack, inventing wildly. He removed one of the herb packs that Erina had given him for tea and showed it to the guard. “For my mother,” he said, holding it out for them to inspect. “Said to cure fevers and boils and if I don’t get it to her she could die. That’s why I paid for this horse, to get me there faster.”
The first soldier stepped forward and warily inspected the small package. “That’s supposed to do it? That little bit?”
“I have more in the pack, but that’s a sample.” He added a bit of desperation to his tone. “Please, I need to get home.”
“Wot ya think, Faylo?”
“I think it’s true.”
“Been thinkin’ it too.”
Garinor felt relieved as they traded words, but it didn’t last for long. The first guard lunged forward and grabbed the reins from Garinor’s hands while the other man reached up and dragged him down.
“It’s him, all right,” the first soldier said. “Looks like the picture.”
The other man cackled and shook Garinor until he stopped struggling. “Har har, ya though’ we was gonna let ya go, din ya?”
“Thanks for saving us time hunting you down. Come on, the prince awaits you, lad.”
Garinor’s eyes shot open and a surge of strength burst through him. He couldn’t allow himself to be dragged off to the prince. He curled into a ball and then extended fully, bashing his head into the man’s nose. He was dropped to the ground in a heap, but he reacted instantly.
Garinor rolled to his side and jumped to his feet, trying to see what the other man was doing. It wasn’t good; he had released the horse’s reins and drawn his sword. Garinor didn’t have much time. The horse was too big for him to even attempt jumping onto it and running off into the distance. His only other option was to fight.
He started by reaching for the sword of the man who had pulled him off the horse. He was still writhing in the dirt, clutching his broken nose. Garinor released the blade and brandished it awkwardly, swinging desperately to block Faylo’s attack. He was barely successful and the ringing of steel alerted the rest of the pack that had continued its march.
Scores of men turned and raced back to the small battle and when Garinor’s sword slipped from his hand and impaled an unsuspecting soldier, his companion went utterly mad. He blazed into Garinor, fists flying too fast for the boy to even see as they pummeled the life out him.
He vaguely heard Faylo screaming for the burly man to stop, that he was the one they were seeking, but the accidental death of his friend blinded him. Garinor’s last sight was of tears falling freely from the man’s enraged face. Then he felt his skull crack and his sight vanished forever.