“Majesty, I—”

Dain glared at the distraught youth. “Do as I command. Then tell Samderaudin that I’ve gone to get the Chalice. Go.”

Gulping, the youth ran.

Dain gathered all his determination together. “Sir Thum, I entrust Lady Pheresa to your care. Keep her safe. Give your life for hers, if you must.” Thum looked as though he wanted to protest, but he bowed his head. “I swear it,” he said harshly.

“Lord Omas.”

“Sire?”

“Get me . . . get me to my darsteed.”

The giant’s face sagged with worry, but in silence he gently picked Dain up, then carried him downstairs and outside into the freezing air. The cold revived Dain a little. He was still sweating, still subject to trembling fits he could not control, but his left arm was starting to feel numb now, and the previous blinding agony had diminished. He slid the Ring on his right forefinger, and it began to glow immediately. He felt the band grow warm against his flesh, and its presence heartened him. At the foot of the steps, Lord Omas set Dain tenderly on his feet and steadied him as he swayed. Dain’s head was spinning, and he did not think he could keep his balance.

But he had to do it. After blowing out several forceful breaths, he finally mastered his weakness and braced his feet.

The darsteed was led up, bugling and slashing at anyone within reach. Seeing Dain, obviously sensing his weakness, it lunged at him with a vicious snap of its jaws, but Dain struck it with his mind.

The darsteed reared in surprise. Abruptly docile, it dropped to all four feet and stood motionless with its head lowered. Only the rumbling in its nostrils betrayed its pent-up anger.

Lord Omas lifted him into the saddle and held him there while Dain struggled to keep from tumbling off. His brief spurt of energy seemed to have failed him, and he could feel himself bleeding again inside his bindings.  His courage sagged inside him, and he felt very, very tired. I cannot do this, he thought.

But there was no one else to do it. Slowly he pulled himself erect in the saddle.

“Sire, I must go with you,” Lord Omas said worriedly.  “Nay, you cannot accompany me on this journey. It will be quick, that I promise,” Dain said to him. “Swear to me that you will all hold fast.” At that moment General Matkevskiet came galloping up on a lathered horse, his gray braids flying about his head as he reined up hard. “Leaving us, sire?” he called out scornfully.

Lord Omas turned to glare at him. “He’s going after the Chalice.” The general did not look appeased. “Perhaps the son is more like the father than we would wish for. Look yon!” He pointed across the city.  Through a gap in the trees, Dain saw a spiral of smoke in the distant sky.  “They’re coming!” the general shouted breathlessly. “Not just the usurper’s troops, but half of Gant by the looks of ‘em. And our leader is leaving.” “I’ll be back,” Dain said, knowing how this looked, how it sounded. “You must hold only a short while.”