Chapter 28

   

An observer might be forgiven for assuming that the Kins of the Mountains was alone, brooding by a fire he neither needed nor appreciated for its comfort or light. Beside him a cup of warmed wine stood untouched.

Cailech was angry. In fact still angry from Lothryn questioning his actions prior to the feast. He loved Lothryn. He would never have a more loyal subject or as close a friend. But it seemed they no longer shared the same vision. Lothryn was content with what had been achieved. Cailech knew his friend’s advice would be to live life happily now and reign well. Look after the people. Flourish among the mountains of their homeland. He could almost hear Lothryn saying it.

But Cailech wanted more. He was ambitious still. Although he was now in his fourth decade, none of the fire in his belly had dimmed. Without knowing they shared a similar dream, he and Celimus could both imagine a sprawling empire beyond their own realm’s borders. Cailech’s would ideally have stretched from the north throughout the south of the continent spreading east and west to encompass the pompous Morgravians and the naive Briavellians, who paid scant attention to their northern border. Neither realm had ever been more vulnerable. Both had young heirs recently taken to their thrones. It was good sense that Celimus would make an offer of marriage to Valentyna and she would accept, binding their nations, combining their armies’ strengths.

Rashlyn was right. If Cailech wanted to claim some of the fertile, easy-to-farm lands south of the Razors and if he wanted some of his people to migrate toward an easier lifestyle in a softer climate, then he must make his move swiftly. Do I want this? he asked himself. Do I really want our people to soften? If he was honest—which he was not on this occasion—then he would admit what he truly wanted was to humiliate and dominate the new King of Morgravia. Celimus was a menace to everyone’s peace and prosperity and Cailech knew that if the southern King got his way and married Valentyna then he would not be content until he had tamed the people of the far north. Celimus was ambitious by all reports and not a coward. Inexperienced but certainly avaricious and of a mind to build his own empire; have his own son sit across not just the southern realms but perhaps the Mountain throne as well.

Into his ruminations came Koreldy, who had made such a curiosity of himself, beseeching indulgence on behalf of the Morgravian prisoners—people he did not care about supposedly, owed nothing. And then the business of offering his services to Valentyna.

“All very generous and righteous,” the King muttered to himself. “But what are you hiding, Koreldy?”

Cailech was convinced Koreldy was not telling him the truth. The man struck him as different. He granted many years had passed since they had seen each other but there were very real inconsistencies in this new Koreldy. The old Romen was selfish to the point of distraction and tremendously self-assured. The death of his sister had exacted its toll but the character remained the same. The Romen he now met was far less arrogant. The swaggering personality was there but there was a hesitancy now. even a remoteness that Cailech could not fathom. Besides—and this was the greatest curiosity of all—Koreldy had not even challenged him to game of agrolo and no amount of maturity would change the competitive streak between the two for this game of skill played on a board with stones for pieces. When they were younger men Cailech had taught Romen the game and he had embraced it with a fierce passion. It took high concentration and an inclination to take risks—only those prepared to lose everything they wagered stood the true chance of winning.

Romen was a man who liked to win at everything and he would not have forgotten their last encounter, when Cailech had trounced him. Won his whole purse, damn it even his lands back home in Grenadyn! Not that they were ever claimed.

No. the King mused. Koreldy had either undergone some extraordinary change in character or they were dealing with an impostor. He had not realised he had voiced this thought aloud.

“Not an impostor, my King,” a voice spoke from the shadows. “I have searched him. This is Koreldy.”

“You’re quite sure?”

“How can it be otherwise? Are you suggesting a glamor?”

“Is it possible?”

“No. A glamor requires immense skill, Cailech,” the voice said, no longer quite so subservient. “Who do you imagine could wield such talent?”

The King shrugged. “Just a thought.”

“An impossible one. There is only one other person I know who might possess such ability and he is dead.”

“Elysius.”

A dark shape melted out of the shadows now and Rashlyn’s face was lit from the glow of the fire. “Who else?” he said with finality. “And you forget that I am as familiar with Koreldy as you.”

“You never really knew him, though, did you?”

“No. I observed him from a distance. But I would know if this was not the same man in the flesh.”

“Is it the same man, Rashlyn? I agree with you that I too would know him if he were outwardly different. There is something else, though. But I do not possess your sentience—I cannot determine it.” Cailech said, frustrated.

“I sense nothing except that he will bring trouble, my King.”

“He can do nothing. He is locked in my dungeon.”

“And Lothryn, Cailech? Can you trust him?”

Cailech looked at his barshi for the first time since they had spoken. It was a fierce glare and said much.

“Forgive, my lord.” the sorcerer said and bowed contritely to take his leave.

They were locked into the same cell. It was large but with nothing in it save a bucket. A vent offered vague but nonetheless welcome air and the walls dripped with a slimy damp. A single candle had been lit by Lothryn as a small mercy; he had said nothing, refused to answer Elspyth’s pleas, but Wyl could sense the big man was deeply unhappy at the turn of events.

Guards had bound their hands and, although Lothryn had left the two men tied, he had undone the rope around Elspyth’s wrists, even lingering just long enough to rub them. Then he had left, but not before a final glance towards Koreldy that, for all his intuition and experience. Wyl could not fathom.

The heavy oaken door had slammed with a chilling finality.

“Untie me.” he said to Elspyth, then looked anxiously over at Gueryn.

She began worrying at the knots. “I suppose your rib has broken again?”

He nodded. “Don’t fuss.”

She bristled. “That was particularly stupid of you to incense the King. What was in your head?”

“Love, loyalty, friendship,” he replied.

Elspyth heard the sadness in his voice. “Love! For whom?”

“Him.” His hands came free and he put a finger to his lips to ask Elspyth to keep silent. “Gueryn?” he whispered.

The man did not flinch. Wyl tried again but with no success.

Elspyth. never one to remain silent for long, decided to intervene. “It’s Elspyth here, Gueryn. We’re alone for now. The man speaking to you is—”

She was not permitted to finish. “It’s me, Gueryn. It’s Wyl.”

Elspyth sat back astonished. Romen ignored her. He was intent on watching Gueryn’s reaction, which was immediate. The man turned his swollen face toward the voice.

“Wyl?”

“I’m here.”

“When…how…your voice…it is—”

“I know. I have much to explain but you must trust me now.”

“How can I?”

Wyl thought hard. “You gave Ylena a white kitten when my father died but you gave me a long hug of comfort in my father’s study that I have never forgotten. You hated not being with my father in the field but you loved our family…loved me enough to give up your career in order to raise me and train me in my father’s absence. I have loved you for it. I think you might have admired my mother just a little more than duty required, and I think she knew this. She—”

“Stop!” Gueryn said. “Enough…enough,” he added in a voice that hurt Wyl more than the old soldier could know. “Did he injure you?”

“Not nearly as much as you, old friend.”

Gueryn. amazingly, croaked a laugh. “Wyl…my boy…I never thought I would see you again.”

“And I was told you were as good as dead.”

“Celimus?”

“Yes.”

“It figures.” He began coughing.

“Cover him with your jacket. He is sick.” Elspyth admonished in a stiff whisper, still trying to fathom this conversation.

“No escape, Wyl. I’ve tried. It’s secure,” Gueryn warned as he felt the comforting touch of Wyl’s jacket.

Wyl ignored that fact for now. “Why did they sew your eyes shut?”

“Because Cailech didn’t like the way I looked at him. He said he could see nothing but contempt in them. He was right.”

“I suppose you’re fortunate he didn’t have them poked out,” Wyl offered glumly.

“He’s saving that for tomorrow night. He will do only one apparently. Says I should not miss out on watching myself being eaten.” He rocked back and forth. “What have we come to, Wyl? Fodder for the barbarians.”

“Tell me everything,” Wyl asked.

Gueryn began his tale from the moment Celimus ordered him north to his capture. “I was set up for it. Celimus intended for this to happen.”

Wyl nodded knowingly.

“By Shar’s Name. I swear it. He deliberately had me ordered to lead a reconnaissance into Razors territory with men I was not familiar with. Felrawthy would have been furious had he known but it was all done behind his back. We all know you only send the very best trackers and experienced soldiers on such a dangerous mission. These men were clearly expendable, with little soldiering experience. Fresh from the fields, I’d say. They made much noise and were useless at coping with the mountain terrain. It was not a case of whether we would be picked up but simply when. I realized as much as soon as the orders were given. The woman was probably a special sweetener from Celimus. I learned she was paid to follow us.”

Wyl squeezed Gueryn’s shoulder in sympathy and his friend reached up to cover his hand with his own. It was an emotional moment for both of them as they realized how low Celimus was forcing his proud Legion. Bound to the King, they had no choice but to do his ugly bidding.

“And Elspyth with the lovely voice…who are you. my dear?”

“Entangled in your friend Koreldy’s web. I’m afraid.” she answered. “Not that I know who he is these days.”

“Have you taken a guise, Wyl?”

“Yes,” he replied, glad to use that excuse.

“What about your story? Are you going to enlighten me?”

“In good time. Gueryn. Right now you must rest. Your breath comes hard. Please, sleep.”

“He’s right,” Elspyth echoed to the older man. “You’re shivering with fever, sir.”

“Good. I hope I have plague and make fine eating for tomorrow—infecting all of the Mountain scum.”

Wyl had pretended to sleep. He did not feel much like talking or, more to the point, explaining himself to Elspyth. She left him alone, although he could feel her disgruntled stare for some time until she too realized that rest was a good idea. It seemed many hours had already passed since the door had closed on them.

Then came the sound.

A soft thud. Wyl listened intently. There it was again, this time louder and accompanied by a grunt. He heard the jangle of keys and then in the thin, dying candlelight noticed the ring handle on the door move. Wyl silently got to his feet, anxiously looking around for something with which to hit whatever head came around that piece of oak. Barring his own fist for a weapon, he could only see the bucket, which was mercifully empty. He grabbed it, blew out the candle, and stood behind the door as the key turned in the lock.

A large shape, outlined in ghostly light from the torch in the corridor, entered the room as the door swung back. It was such a wide door that Wyl had to step out and around it and he thanked the reach of Romen’s long arms as he swung the bucket toward the head. The weapon connected and shattered, accompanied by loud swearing. Elspyth screamed.

“Haldor’s Balls, Koreldy! Did you have to do that?” Lothryn whispered angrily, rubbing at his head.

“What did you expect me to do?” Wyl replied, unprepared for the familiar voice. “Walk meekly to the ovens without a fight?”

“Well, before you hit me again, consider why I’m whispering.”

Elspyth had already worked it out, leaping to her feet and into Lothryn’s arms.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me perish,” she said.

“How could I?” he said, voice suddenly gentle. “I couldn’t bear for you to be hurt.”

“I know,” Elspyth replied, her gaze searching his as if no one else in the room mattered.

“Lothryn, this is all very touching but what in Shar’s Name is going on?” Wyl hissed.

“I’m getting you out,” the man whispered. “Hurry, rouse your friend. I’ve brought warm clothes.”

Wyl wanted to shake his head and think it through. Lothryn, betrayer of Cailech! Surely not?

The Mountain Man seemed to guess what he was thinking. “I don’t agree with Cailech. I grieve too for our dead but butchering our enemies to make a point is heading back to our darkest days.”

Wyl gently shook Gueryn, who now awoke bewildered and groggy, the fever still claiming his body. “Loth, it’s suicide for you to do this.”

“I know. Here’s a key to unshackle him. Now help him dress; you need to climb into these clothes to look like we’re all from the tribes, and hurry. I’ve drugged the guards but you never know how luck will hold.”

“Who is the man who helps us?” Gueryn wondered aloud.

“Lothryn,” Elspyth answered, just a little too proudly. Wyl thought.

“You were the one who tried to break me?” Gueryn said.

“And I failed. I’m glad to say. Your loyalty is stronger than mine.” Lothryn replied.

“I bow to you all the same for your courage.”

“You can thank me later if we still have our lives,” he said grimly.

“Can we help the others?” Gueryn asked, teeth rattling.

“It is too late. We would risk everyone’s lives to save them.”

“We can’t let him eat them!”

Lothryn sighed. “In truth. I don’t think he will. Tonight he was fired up, angry. You’ve seen him like that before. Koreldy.” Wyl nodded. “But he will end their lives. Escape with me is your only hope. Is everyone ready?”

His companions nodded, although Gueryn was definitely confused now, knowing full well that Wyl had never met Cailech before.

“Weapons?” Wyl asked.

“None, other than mine. There will be no killing. We either get out without harm to any of my people or we die in the process. Here is your pack.”

Wyl could only nod. “Then we’re ready.”

“Did you bring my cloth bag?” Elspyth inquired of their rescuer. Wyl laughed. What a typically womanly thing to ask. Elspyth understood his smirk. “It occurs to me, Romen Koreldy—or whoever in Shar’s world you are—that you may need pain relief. Feel free to go without, though. I will lose no sleep.”

Wyl meekly muttered an apology, which she chose to ignore as Lothryn, who had indeed brought her bag, tossed it toward her.

“Here,” she said, roughly pushing the small bottle into Wyl’s hand. “It’s all yours.”

He took several sips and felt the numbing sensation begin to ease the pain. He made Gueryn take a few sips as well. It would not touch the fever but it would ease the pain of his other hurts.

“Silence.” Lothryn cautioned as he and Wyl virtually carried Gueryn between them.

The early hour worked in their favor. The castle was only lightly guarded, such was Cailech’s faith in his Mountain fortress’s impregnability. Very few Morgravians even knew of its existence save what the old stories told and even fewer would know how to reach it. Most would die with an arrow through their throats anyway, for Cailech posted keen-eyed lookouts throughout the passes that gave access to the fortress.

For now the small group tiptoed by several fallen guards, presumably sleeping off the same drug Lothryn had used on the dungeon guards.

“I’ve tipped off the gatekeeper that I will be leaving with three of our men. Remain silent. I will do the talking. Elspyth, keep your hair under that hood and face covered. We are all dead if they suspect anything.”

Wyl whispered to Gueryn, “You’d better keep your head covered too.”

Lothryn had planned well. They wore the special hooded cloak favored by the Mountain Dwellers for travel in the higher parts. That hood would serve them brilliantly now, they all hoped.

“Are we trying to do this on foot?” Wyl whispered.

“No. Horses have been readied. Can he ride, do you think?”

“Don’t talk around me as though I’m senile. I can ride. Ride the breeches off both of you—even without sight!” Gueryn growled as they both shushed him.

Lothryn led them to stables, where a young lad was rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Very late for you to be heading out. Loth.” the boy said.

“Secret mission, lad. I told you. Now you must keep that quiet, remember. Tell no one. all right?”

“Not even the King, Loth?” the boy joked.

“He’ll know,” Lothryn replied and they all imagined the cold touch of Cailech’s wrath reaching out to them already.

Lothryn kept the nosy stableboy distracted with a request to adjust his horse’s saddle straps while the others mounted. Somehow Gueryn managed to clamber onto his horse himself, slumping into the saddle. Elspyth’s foot slipped in the stirrup but fear made her quick to scramble up, while Wyl managed easily enough with no pain to hamper his movements. He had little doubt, however, that his rib would be aching again before sunrise.

Lothryn whispered some final parting words to the lad and then waved a silent farewell. The boy responded in kind and then yawned, heading back into the stable.

“That was the easy bit.” Lothryn muttered to Wyl. “Just follow my lead now.”

Walking the horses softly out of the stables complex, Lothryn led them to the gatehouse. They pulled their hoods even deeper over their faces as they approached.

“Ho!” Lothryn called to the man whose sleepy head poked out of the window.

“What do you call this then?” the guard asked.

“Apologies, Dorl, for the late hour. We are on the King’s business.”

“Oh, yes, and what might that be, Lothryn?”

“Never you mind that nose of yours, Dorl. It will get you into trouble one of these days,” Lothryn replied, amusement in his voice.

Dorl responded in kind. “It’s my job to be nosy.”

“Yes, but not about Cailech’s private business.”

“All right, all right. Give me a moment. I’m off for my supper, just waiting for the relief.”

“Who takes over?” Wyl asked conversationally, taking Lothryn’s lead and firmly believing that three silent riders might be construed as suspicious.

Dorl was not paying attention anyway. He was already occupied with cranking the wheel which would open the gate. “I think Bore is on his way down,” he called out in answer. Wyl and Lothryn threw each other a meaningful glance. Bore would be a problem. “Although I heard there was some problem at the feast. That he had been hurt or something?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Lothryn lied. “Come on, Dorl. Put your back into it!”

They heard him make some deprecating noise at Lothryn’s comment and the gate slowly began to ascend, protesting with creaks.

Lothryn was not prepared to risk waiting any longer and clicked his horse to move on. The animal was reluctant until the gate opened fully but the rider insisted and the beast obeyed, ducking its head. Elspyth was next and was relieved her mount simply followed the lead horse.

“Haldor’s Wrath, but you’re in a hurry,” Dorl called out.

“King’s business can rarely wait,” Lothryn called back, hoping Gueryn would take the hint and follow next.

He did so and Wyl brought up the rear, lifting his hand in thanks to the gatekeeper.

“Haldor guide you,” he hailed at their backs.

Lothryn replied in similar fashion and felt relief flood through himself as the gate began a quicker descent.

“Ride!” he said over his shoulder to his companions and they broke into a canter over the rocky ground and through the first pass. “Don’t look down. Elspyth.” he cautioned.

“I won’t,” she called grimly, holding the reins and staring at the back of the Mountain Man.

“Do you think they’ll follow?” Wyl called to Lothryn.

“Of course they will. Cailech will track us forever now.”

It was probably fifteen or so minutes later that Wyl heard hooves behind them. He yelled to Lothryn. grateful he could see some flatter, open ground for a while. “Run for it!”

No one needed to be told again. The four horses were spurred into a gallop. Wyl calling guidance to Gueryn. who seemed fearless despite his blindness. His horse obediently followed the lead horses and. as the companions’ hoods blew off and their identities were revealed beneath a full moon, they heard the roar of anger behind them as Bore tried to shorten their lead. He was brandishing a sword and Lothryn had no choice but to pull his own from its scabbard and turn back to meet the howling man head on.

Wyl turned back too but felt helpless without a weapon. The others slowed their horses and Elspyth took Gueryn off to the relative safety of a craggy overhang. Wyl yelled to Lothryn to give him the sword.

“Don’t fight your own man. Let me. I’ve reason to kill him. You don’t.”

“I have no intention of killing.” Lothryn yelled back.

“I understand. Let me,” Wyl begged, mindful of how hard this betrayal was for Lothryn.

Lothryn finally tossed the sword to Wyl, who grabbed it effortlessly from the air and then jumped from his horse. He had only a moment’s time to gather his wits before Bore was upon his fellow tribesman, determined to slay him. He swung at Lothryn’s head with his sword, only just missing, and if not for the distraction of Wyl running at him with a weapon, might have finished the attempt with a second swing. Instead, he jumped to the ground to face Wyl.

“You traitor!” Bore yelled at Lothryn as he circled his new opponent. “How could you betray us?”

“Because Cailech is wrong!”

“Wrong to kill the enemy?”

“Wrong to murder innocents.”

“Since when have you cared about a Morgravian soul?”

Wyl allowed them this time. As Bore continued to circle him. Wyl could already see that his opponent was clumsy by comparison to his own silky skills. Bore, he anticipated, would simply rush at him. Wyl had no fear of this warrior.

“Since now. Bore.” Lothryn replied.

“Just fuck her, Loth, and be done. I’ll help you do it. man. You know there will be no forgiveness from Cailech.”

“Not another word about her, Bore.” Lothryn cautioned, “or I will take the sword and finish you.”

“And you think I’m afraid of you?” he countered.

“No,” Wyl chimed in. tiring of the conversation. “But you should be very afraid of me, Bore, because I still carry insult from you. How is your throat, anyway?”

Bore narrowed his eyes at Wyl. “When this is finished,” he called back to Lothryn, “I shall do her in front of you.”

Wyl made the sound of a parent scolding a child. “Very ugly talk. Bore. Let’s see if you fight as dirty as you speak.”

A whir of sword thrusts left Bore groaning on the ground, holding his leg, with blood pouring from severed tendon and muscle and another slash on his arm.

“That should slow him down.” Wyl said to Lothryn, who looked on with awe.

“I knew you were skilled. Koreldy. but not that good.”

“I’ve learned some tricks from a new friend.” Wyl replied. “I gather you want him left alive?”

Lothryn nodded. “Leave him some water.”

They did so and rode off immediately. Bore howling curses after their backs. Once out of sight of the guard. Lothryn stopped the group’s progress.

“What’s wrong?” Wyl asked.

“We must use what’s left of the dark to get as far as possible.” Lothryn cautioned. “Once Bore set off after us. Dorl will not have wasted any time in running to the King. In any case, the guards have probably already woken and raised the alarm that you three have escaped. Cailech won’t wait—he’ll have sent a tracking party by now.”

Elspyth felt a new fear. “What are you saying?”

“He’s saying we’ll have to escape the hard way. am I right?” Gueryn croaked.

Lothryn nodded, looking at Wyl.

“So leave me!” Gueryn ordered. “I will hamper progress.”

“Stop!” Wyl ordered. “There’ll be no talk of anyone left behind. Lothryn… tell me the worst.”

“We’ll have to go over the mountains. The horses can only take us so far. It will be on foot for the most part. Very dangerous.”

“Lookouts?”

“No,” he said somberly, “they’re the easier of our problems. Our greatest threat is from the zerkons.”

“You mean they’re real?” Elspyth said.

Wyl had not heard of them. “Zerkons .. another tribe?”

Lothryn gave a harsh laugh. “Another species. I hope you never have to see them, let alone fight them. Here,” he said, lifting a bundle wrapped in sacking from beneath his pack. “You’ll be needing these.”

Wyl heard the comforting clank of metal. “My weapons?”

The barbarian nodded. “I took them from your room at the inn in Yentro. I had high hopes of keeping them, to be honest, but they’re somehow too elegant for the Mountain style of combat.”

“Are the knives sharp?” It was a strange question from Gueryn.

“Very!” Wyl assured him.

“Good. Then you can release these stitches from my eyes.”

His three companions looked at each other. It was no polite request from the old soldier.

“Do it!” he commanded with a strength Wyl remembered all too well.

“I will.” Elspyth offered. “I have a steady hand.”

Wyl gingerly gave her one of the daggers.

“I can’t see very well by moonlight.” she admitted to her patient.

“Well, that makes two of us,” he replied gruffly. “Do what you can.”

Laying him on his back, she quietly thanked Shar for his full moon this night. It hurt Gueryn badly, for the stitches were dried. She did her best to moisten and soften them with water but the delicate task was still seriously hampered by the conditions. Wevyr’s brilliantly fashioned blade was the only blessing. One touch and the black thread was cut through cleanly. Gradually, painfully, his swollen lids were released.

“They’re not perfect,” she admitted, looking at the stray threads still embedded in his lids.

“It is to me. Thank you, my dear, and you are every bit as pretty as I imagined you might be with that lovely voice.”

She smiled at his compliment. Gueryn now looked for the man who claimed to be his beloved Wyl Thirsk and saw only a tall stranger.

“You’re not Wyl.” Bitter disappointment gutted the older soldier.

“Gueryn — there is much to say and yet no time.”

Understanding dawned on Gueryn le Gant. “Save those words for another time. Thank you for helping me-I presume you arc the Romen Koreldy Cailech was so interested in me identifying. If you had not called out the Thirsk motto or pretended you were Wyl back in the dungeon, I might have given up my fight against him, against the fever, against the pain.” He found a shaky smile. “You know, you look nothing like Wyl Thirsk and yet somehow you do remind me so strongly of him.”

Wyl could only shake his head. He badly wanted to confide in Gueryn and tell him everything about the bewildering life he now led but he knew that right now his old friend would not believe him. It would need careful telling and time.

Gueryn’s gaze had already moved on to Lothryn. “Our eyes meet again,” he said in his dry manner. “If‘ I was strong enough I would offer to fight you.”

The big man smiled, offered his hand to help Gueryn to his feet.

Wyl was anxious at how weak Gueryn really was. “Right.” he said, “we’ll take our chances over the mountains, then.”

Lothryn nodded. “He will not expect it. He will follow the most logical trail, anticipating we will go for speed.”

Elspyth groaned. “He’ll just send out two sets of trackers, surely?”

Lothryn flicked a glance toward Wyl. Elspyth was right but he did not want to dishearten them any further. Their chance of escape via the more treacherous and mountainous route was slim at best between Cailech’s men and the zerkons but it was infinitely better than the more straightforward route winding down the Razors.

“Cailech will not send two sets of trackers if he’s following four horses on one clear track.” Gueryn said firmly, trying hard not to cough or reveal how sick he was.

“I don’t understand,” Wyl said.

“Koreldy, your chances, I am gathering, are lessening by the moment. If we give them a clear set of tracks and no reason to question it, they will follow that trail blindly, no jest intended.”

“No!” Wyl said, suddenly understanding where this was headed.

“Yes!” Gueryn replied just as adamantly. “You three go off on foot across the mountains. They will not suspect it if you cover your early tracks well. I will take the horses and lead them down and away from you. You will win a day, perhaps even two if you move quickly and you’ll move faster without me.”

“Gueryn, I can’t permit this.” Wyl said.

“Why? I am not answerable to you. Grenadyne. We have no loyalties to each other but I can do this for you because I want to. Get yourselves to safety and warn the Legion of Cailech’s threat to spare no prisoners. The Legion must not be sent in recklessly—perhaps you can persuade Celimus to do that much.”

There was so much to say. so much to tell him. Wyl felt the bleakness grab him again. “You will die! It will be for nought.”

Gueryn smiled in a way that reminded Wyl of all the reasons he loved this man. “I’d far rather die outwitting these bastards—forgive me. Lothryn—than be roasted over their coals. I’ll make them kill me. son, and I’ll die laughing in their faces. Please, go. Let me do this for you as my thanks for getting me out of that dungeon.”

Lothryn felt for Koreldy’s pain. “It’s a good plan, Romen.”

Wyl looked back at his old friend and mentor, fighting back the emotion, demanding that the tears he felt welling did not show themselves for he could not explain them anyway. He nodded. “So be it.”

Gueryn held out his hand to Wyl. “I will take the horses as far as my ailing body can get them and still further. You obviously knew someone very special to me called Wyl Thirsk. Looking forward to hearing his story and how he fares will encourage me to live. Perhaps we might meet again. Koreldy…if not in this life, then the next.”