Free Crusader: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Four by Robert J. Crane Page B

he calls for his bannermen from nearby holdfasts, but it’ll take a few days.”
    “He won’t be a serious threat in a direct battle until then,” Cyrus said. “But we’ll still need to keep careful watch. Unless the people of Luukessia have no use for treachery?”
    “Oh, they have many uses for it,” Longwell said with a half-smile. “Many.”
    They rode without incident for the rest of the day and camped that evening on a grassy plain, a thousand stars lighting the skies above them. Cyrus fell asleep with his mind on a blond elf, her words fading in his ears, and awoke when Odellan shook him shortly after midnight.
    Cyrus sat up and looked into the face of the elf, whose helm was hiding his fair hair. “What happened?”
    Odellan’s mouth was a thin line. “We lost a scouting party.”
    “Lost?” Cyrus got to his feet. “I presume they were too experienced to get ‘lost’ if they were a scouting party.”
    “One veteran ranger named Mikal, a human,” Odellan said. “Had a couple new warriors and rangers with him. They were sent to the north during the night to reconnoiter the farms above us, see if there was any sign of trouble. They didn’t report in when they were supposed to.”
    Cyrus rubbed his eyes. “How overdue are they?”
    Odellan’s grimace became worse. “Six hours.”
    “All right,” Cyrus said, his hands feeling at the hilt of Praelior at his side. The rush of strength from it gave him a jolt, helping him wake. “I don’t want to become too alarmed yet. They may have had good cause to detour around something, or perhaps found something that they’re taking a closer look at. We’ll wait, for now. We’ll give them until sunrise, then go looking for them.”
    “You don’t want to send searchers after them now?” Odellan looked concerned.
    “Purely at a gut level, yes,” Cyrus said. “But six hours could be reasonable caution on their part, taking care to get back to us without getting themselves into trouble. There are a host of possibilities, and I don’t want to get overexcited when we have no idea what’s happened to them.”
    “So we send a search party at dawn?” Odellan’s body was frozen in a hesitant state, stiff and formal.
    “No,” Cyrus said, causing the elf to blink. “Then we go looking for them. All of us—the whole army. If something caused one scouting party to disappear, I’m not taking a chance on sending another into the same trap. We go in force.”
    Odellan cracked a smile. “Aye, sir.”
    The night lasted long, and Cyrus never returned to the ever-elusive sleep he had found before. Instead he stared at the campfire, watched the flames dance, the hues of orange at the top, the whitish heat at the base of it, and he saw a shade that seemed familiar. The fire swayed in the wind, and he saw the yellow at the heart of it, the same color as her hair, and it moved, like the swishing of her ponytail …
    The sun came up as it always did and brought with it a surprise. A rider with a flag of truce was brought to Cyrus at dawn, Longwell and Odellan escorting him. The man was stout, red of hair and beard, both of which were long and reached to the middle of his chest and back. He approached Cyrus’s fire, with Longwell and Odellan flanking him. Neither looked particularly happy to Cyrus’s eyes, and the warrior felt a chill inside as the man approached, his face freckled and aged, his chin held high.
    “My name is Cyrus Davidon,” he said upon greeting the envoy, “of the army of Sanctuary.”
    “My name is Olivere. I bring the compliments of Baron Hoygraf,” the envoy began, “who speaks in the voice of Milos Tiernan, King of Actaluere.” Olivere wore darkened steel armor with a blue surcoat that had a shark upon it, leaping out of a field of water.
    “I accept his compliments,” Cyrus said, “and wonder what would possess the good Baron and the King to be sending an emissary to me.”
    The envoy smiled, a cunning smile that caused Cyrus’s