Chapter Eleven

Flanked by two warriors, Evalan raced his horse away from the royal procession before turning and galloping back again.

“Evalan. Enough. You will tire the poor animal out,” said Edmon, laughing. “Spending time with the Horseclan has certainly fired your imagination.”

Instead of the customary sixteen days, they’d only stayed five in Kurabar and by now had already spent five days on the road back to Orenheart. Their farewells had been tinged with sad relief.

Evalan reined his horse in next to Edmon. “I still can’t believe I met Chief Brishan. Just watching the Horseclan ride their horses...”

His parents laughed at his wide grin.

“But I’m glad Eoli is home again.”

Maeve nodded. “She’s a very lucky girl. Though my thoughts are with Brishan–”

“I can’t stop thinking about the man who saved Eoli,” said Evalan.

Edmon nodded. “Indeed, he is a strange one.”

Finlonel’s trackers had found Eoli, half-dead and incoherent. She’d babbled about being pursued by phantoms that had captured Youd. She’d barely escaped capture herself, thanks to the intervention of a stranger; he’d rescued her but had been unable to help Youd who’d been borne away by the wraiths.
   The stranger had accompanied Eoli back to Kurabar where he’d aroused the interest of all with his outlandishly pale skin, and colourless eyes. He’d told them he was a hermit who’d lived all his life in caves further inland from their city and didn’t know any other life for his parents had lived in the caverns before him. Finlonel and Gwilliyn had been profuse in their gratitude to the enigmatic young man for he’d brought their daughter back to them.
   Words, however, had little meaning to Brishan. If he’d blamed Eoli in any way for his brother’s death, he’d kept his thoughts and feelings to himself. He’d regarded her silently then left without a word. The Horseclan had drifted out of Kurabar, leaving little evidence that they had ever been there.

“Well, I don’t like him.” Maeve’s firm tone cut through their musing.

“Why?” Evalan didn’t let on that he’d found the stranger very interesting.

“I don’t know. I found him... he seemed too interested in us. Didn’t you feel that?”

“Not really,” replied Edmon. “I simply put it down to interest in the new world he’d ventured into.”

“I’m glad he’s staying in Kurabar, that he didn’t decide to follow us. He made me uneasy.” An involuntary shudder escaped her.

“Enough of all this gloom.” Edmon turned to his son. “Now, young sir. How would you like to ride a full-blooded beast?”

Evalan’s jaw hung open as he stared at his father.

“Oh, Edmon. You can’t mean for him to ride Varendis?”

“Not on his own, Maeve. He’s not strong enough. Come, Evalan. You will sit in the saddle here, in front of me. There. Hold the reins here and... Ready?”

Legs sticking out almost horizontally, Evalan made himself as comfortable as possible. He wasn’t going to complain, for not even in his dreams did he ever imagine his father would allow him to sit astride Varendis. He wanted to yell his happiness to the world as Varendis galloped along, but the wind kept whipping his breath away. Then Edmon urged the horse to go faster, and Evalan clung to his father’s arms; it felt like they were about to fly all the way home. 

*          *          *          *

Knowing they would be home in less than ten days, Evalan was torn between wanting to see Leah and his home, and wanting to spend more time out on the road. If anyone asked him which part of the journey he’d enjoyed most, he’d have answered, everything. Having stayed in as many settlements as the nights they’d travelled, still Evalan felt a tinge of excitement at meeting new people. Kurabar had far exceeded his expectations, and meeting Brishan and his people... he couldn’t wait to tell Leah.

Craning his neck, he could see Geren riding at the front. “Oh. Is that a warrior patrol?”

Even as Edmon answered in the affirmative, Geren raised his hand, signalling for the party to slow down. Someone shouted from the rear, distracting Evalan who glanced back. His eyes widened as a gasp escaped him; arrows were flying from a small copse, aimed at the warrior guard.

“Ambush!”

Evalan turned again at Geren’s shout; the commander’s drawn sword glinted in the late morning sun as the patrol riding towards them charged.

The warriors released their swords. Those at the rear closed ranks around the royal family; the others formed around Geren, urging their horses on to meet the charge.

“Father...” Evalan’s voice shook as Edmon unsheathed his sword.

“Stay close to your mother.”

Evalan turned to Maeve as she reached over and took the reins of his horse. But when he looked at her face, her gaze fixed on her husband, he saw fear, and his heart turned cold.

Encircled by Maeve and a handful of warriors, Evalan could not see much. But he was surrounded by the violent clamour of battle: men shouting, weapons clashing, horses screaming...

“Get the boy!”

He stiffened at the cry, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it was about to burst out of his chest.

The warrior next to Edmon fell. Varendis backed into Evalan’s horse; it shied away. As Evalan fought to stay seated, he glimpsed his father slashing at a great hulking beast of a man. Evalan’s gaze flicked away and was caught by the man’s gimlet-eyed stare.

A shout sounded next to him. Flinching, he realised someone was grabbing at his horse’s reins. “Mother...” He could barely hear his own voice.

“Evalan, stay close.” Maeve struggled to keep Evalan’s petrified horse near. A rough hand grabbed her arm, and she cried out.

Fear for his mother gave him courage. “Let her go,” he shouted, trying to push the hand away.

“Edmon...” The word fell from Maeve’s lips as little more than a gasp.

Evalan swung around in time to see his father held by the neck as a sword was plunged into his arm. Evalan’s scream joined with Edmon’s.

Howling, the beast-like man pushed past Edmon and grabbed Evalan, wrenching him off his horse. Evalan screamed. Fought.

“No!” Maeve held on to her struggling son.

Cursing loudly, the man punched her in the face. Evalan’s sleeve tore in her grasp as she tumbled to the ground.

“Mother!” Still struggling, Evalan was barely aware of his father fighting Varendis around. Then he saw Edmon reaching for him. Evalan clutched at his father’s hand. A fist slammed into Edmon’s face... he fell.

“Father...” cried the terrified child. The foul-smelling man slung him face down, over the saddle. As the horse turned, Evalan caught a dizzying glimpse of his mother on the ground, lying still. Tears blurred his vision as he retched.

The horse jerked to a halt. The man’s curses were cut short by a choked gurgle; slowly he fell from his horse.

Evalan was hauled off. Hearing a familiar voice, he forced himself to look.

Geren... grim and bloodied, held him close. “I have you, my prince.”

Sobbing, Evalan gripped his arm. But his relief turned to confusion as Geren stiffened then carefully lowered him to the ground.

“Run.”

Evalan frowned, shaking his head, refusing to let go of Geren’s arm.

“Evalan... run. Go.” Geren pushed him away then pulled his horse around to face his attackers; Evalan saw the blood running down the man’s unprotected side.

Shaking his head, Evalan stepped back. He tripped over a body. Stumbled away. Sobbing loudly, he looked around. But there was no one to help him. His father could not protect him. His mother could not protect him. He whimpered as another wild-eyed man closed in.