Free Knight's Valor by Ronald Coleborn Page A

mindspeak.”
    They had been riding much of the day and were sore in their saddles, stiff of muscle, and weary of journeying and battling. They had passed from lush countryside with green hills that rolled toward the sea, to a small hollow, and now to woodland, whose sunbirks, iron sennas, and towering spinwoods provided welcome shade from the unrelenting sun. They wanted nothing more than to see the banners of Storms Reach waving from the pinnacle of the castle, but they were yet many miles from achieving that end.
    When they came to Dunnuth Bridge, a small waterfall emptied into a river whose bank could be accessed by the horses. Ellerick insisted that they stop to rest and to give the horses drink.
    â€œA fine idea this time round,” said Jerreb, who was first to lead his horse down the slope.
    Sendin and Ghendris led their horses down in turn, and Ellerick walked his horse to the far right of the others, where the leaves of an outstretched branch of a nearby birk tree offered abundant shade.
    â€œThe Dremsan, you never did tell me what he said,” Jerreb said to Sendin as he looked across at him.
    The horses were eagerly lapping up river water, snorting and whickering. Sendin fixed his eyes on his courser’s head as he spoke. “We have Ghendris to thank for interpreting his strange tongue. The boy spoke of queer things, omens and prophecies and superstitious babble. He said they had visitors from the northwest in the night, direct from the Dread Lord himself, come to show them what was to be if they failed to choose sides in a coming war between the great realms. Their lord, or mer, Mer Truvah, fell to his knees when the Dread Riders touched his head, and his eyes went blank while he stared up into the heavens. The Dremsa boy claimed they all looked up at that point and saw the war play out across the sky. He said Storms Reach fell into the hands of the Prybbian realm, according to the vision, and the men of the plain will have no small hand in that outcome.”
    â€œMer Truvah. He must be leading the horde,” Jerreb said.
    â€œAye,” said Sendin.
    â€œThen it’s him I seek. He may have my wife.”
    â€œLet’s hope she’s all right, being caught in the midst of a war,” said Ghendris.
    â€œIndeed,” said Jerreb, and then he and the others fell silent and listened to the horses drink. When the beasts had drunk their fill, he and the other three men went to the river and drank. Then they filled their goatskins with river water and rested.
    At length, Sendin looked to the sky. “It’s getting on toward evening. We’d better move.”
    â€œIt will be well into the night by the time we land at Storms Reach,” said Ellerick, climbing onto his horse.
    â€œSo be it,” replied Jerreb. “We haven’t a choice, unless you have a trick up your sleeve.”
    â€œNo tricks, just two skinny arms,” said Ellerick, and that got a laugh from the others.
    They traversed the road that skirted Eastern Plain and soon sprinted past the village of Heth before coming again to the fork in the road. This time Jerreb did not hesitate. They took High Road north and continued toward Storms Reach. Soon the Hamlet of Killik was behind them as well, but as they neared High Court, just as night descended, all four riders pulled on their reins to stop their horses. High Court Castle, which rose out of the mountainside before them, was under siege, and a larger Dremsa horde, as well as what looked like Riders of the Dread Order, could be seen atop its battlements and outer towers and beyond the raised portcullis of the gate. Many of the besiegers had torches in hand. Savages and Dread Riders alike were seen tossing male servants from the roof of the barbican, the double tower above the lowered drawbridge, and cutting down others in the courtyard. Worse yet, far along High Road, as it climbed toward the snow-covered summit from which rose Storms Reach, the