The next two days passed in a blur. The wound in Garinor’s arm was healing, but it stung terribly. His aide kept bringing him wine, which worked well to stifle the pain, but it kept Garinor in a quasi-conscious state so he couldn’t keep track of everything that was going on.
He was under the impression that the army was tracking the escapees. They kept changing direction, but they always made progress toward the north. Soon, Garinor realized, they would come to the resting place of the scepter.
Garinor mulled over his agreement with the prince as the days waned. He could see the tall man going about here and there tending to countless details. It looked too much for Garinor to bear if he were the one leading them. He held firm to his choice of acknowledging the prince as the ruler and then living under his shadow. Garinor didn’t need such a hectic existence.
The afternoon was a buzz of excitement again and even Garinor was awakened from his tranquilized state by all the running about. He listened to the others and understood that they had found the escaped prisoners and they would journey imminently to recapture them.
The trek was not a long one and, though his arm was still in pain, Garinor refused to remain back with the wounded. He plodded along and joined the advance guard, more for something to do than anything else. They approached a camp from the south and the prince went ahead in front of everyone. His soldiers fanned out shoulder to shoulder along the border of the camp.
There was some commotion up ahead, but Garinor couldn’t see what was happening. Two powerful voices bantered back and forth, then the prince signaled to his men. They stepped forward, unsheathing their swords, and then all the noise fell silent. The leader of the camp had surrendered.
The campers were all hardened fighters and they looked ready to tear apart anyone who came near them. But a signal from their leader brought everyone into accord quietly.
Unexpectedly, the prince strode up to Garinor as things were being quieted all around. “Let it be tonight,” he said. “If you are well enough for the walk, let us be off and back before nightfall.”
Garinor nodded and he followed the prince across the campsite. As they went another voice cried out in total shock. All he heard was, “Gari—!” and a dull thud as the one shouting was clubbed in the head for silence.
He couldn’t resist looking around to see who had started to call his name. At least, it could have been his name. Off to one side, held down by two guards, was a man Garinor never expected to see on this journey.
It was his father.
He stared at the man with his jaw open. It couldn’t be, but it was. There was his father, and with the eyes all turned toward him and the way the guards stood over him, he realized that he was the leader of this encampment. It didn’t add up, for his father was a traveling merchant. He couldn’t be here leading this camp.
Before the prince could distract him, Garinor stepped toward Terrian and called out, “Father?”
A little dazed from the club to the head, Terrian nodded and looked toward his son. “It is. How do you come to journey with him?”
The prince intervened. “He joined with me recently and we have reached an accord and have kept to each other’s word. Or so we shall see tonight.” He turned to Garinor. “Come now, we must be off.” Then he added in a lower tone that only the boy could hear. “Besides, for you to be the heir, he cannot be your true father, now can he?”
Garinor hadn’t thought of that. He paused for a moment trying to sort things out. He turned a puzzled eye to Terrian. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about the prophecy?”
The color drained from Terrian’s face and his eyes sank low. “Son, there are things we must discuss. A lifetime that I must apologize for. Free me and let us speak.”
The prince spoke calmly to Garinor. “All prisoners wish to be freed. He will be fine here. We should not tarry while we can be off. The sooner we finish this deed, the sooner we can tend properly to the wound in your arm. We have access to some of the best healers in the land and their services are yours once we return to the castle.”
Reminded of his wound, he felt the pain rush all over him again. Garinor looked from the prince to his father. He didn’t know what to do. His father—if he could be called his father—had a defeated look on his face, as if he knew he had caused a great misdeed. The prince tapped Garinor gently and motioned for them to continue north.