THE REALM

Chapter Twenty Seven

  The freedom of my dungeon companions was short-lived as they were hacked down by panicked guards terror-stricken at the thought of being fed upon. At least in death they were now free from the living torment that had taken over their lives. I could only wonder as to how many of them had been as innocent as I had of any wrongdoing.

  I was among the press of court officials that was spilling out onto the street. Nothing like the threat of cannibals on the loose to clear a building. I saw the Prince striding about angrily, calling out orders, and I had to fight against the capricious urge to slip up next to him and bury a dagger in deeply.

  He no doubt deserved it, but today was not the day.

  I found myself in the palace stable yard quite by accident. It wasn't in me to be a thief and steal another man's horse, so I did the only thing I felt comfortable to do.

  I strode up to what appeared to be the chief attendant of the stables and barked out, "The Prince requires his horse! Now!"

  The stable master fidgeted nervously, as he split his attention between me and the general hubbub taking place in the palace, "Which one?" he asked distractedly.

  "The red one," I said on a hunch.

  "But it's not been properly broke in yet!"

  "Bring it now man!" I yelled out forcefully.

  The stable master ran off and I waited impatiently for his return. He came back moments later with a beautiful red stallion that pawed aggressively at the ground. Now this was a horse!

  Of all the people in this kingdom, the Prince owed me the most and I was willing to call us even, for the most part, in exchange for this horse. I slid into the saddle, chuckling to myself as to how angry the Prince would be when he found out about this.

  The Prince would be wise to be grateful that he was still alive, but I doubted that he would be. His kind carried a grudge to the end. With this act I'd made an enemy today.

  The stallion did a hop, skip, step in preparation to buck, but I had no time for that. I spurred him out of the stable lot and into the hustle and bustle of the city. I had no wish to ever return here and I doubted that I would be made welcome anyway.

  I stopped at a merchant's business and I traded my second sword for a purplish traveling cloak and some provisions and then I was off again. The stallion seemed as eager as I was to be free of the city. I named him Urgallon on the spot.

  I'd had a pig named that as a boy and the horse beneath me reminded me of him. It was a strange name I had to admit, but it was a familiar one and it came from back in my early childhood, when things really hadn't needed to make much sense.

  I made it to the edge of the city when my conscience couldn't take it anymore. Skewed reasoning aside, I was essentially stealing this horse. I wasn't a horse thief. My real father no doubt had been, but I was not.

  I dismounted in a deserted street and slapped the stallion's rump hard. It took off with a snort for the inner-city, no doubt already missing its royal oats.

  "So long Urgallon. It was a short ride."

  I turned away and made my way back out onto a populated avenue. One of the city gates was ahead and I instantly noticed the heightened security. I kept one handle on my sword beneath the cloak, as I slipped into the pressed throng of a passing caravan.

  I kept my head up, as I relied on the stolen helmet to shield my features from view. Yes, it was quite ironic. Too noble to steal a horse, but apparel and weaponry were free game. What could I say, other than I wasn't as bothered by the latter as I had been by the former. It didn't make much sense, but that was the way of it.

  "Has anyone seen the Prince's horse?" called out a soldier on horseback near the gate.

  I felt relief wash over me. It had been wise to listen to my conscience. It paid to do the right thing and this was a great example of that and I marked it well.

  I was abreast of the gate when a voice rang out, "Hey you! What's your business?"

  Instinctively I knew they were referring to me and my hands started to pull my sword free from under the cloak, when all action was arrested by a feminine voice that spoke confidently and with authority, "Why, he's one of my guards. Move on and pay no attention to these paranoid Thyanians."

  "Hey, watch what you say Lancossian Mistress or we'll impound your goods and you can return home devoid of wealth!"

  "Impound my wealth! What wealth is there to be found trading with you Thyanians? You talk more than you're willing to trade and you have even less worth talking about. I practically operate at a loss as it is to even come here!"

  "Enough! Get on with you!" The gate guardsman said, with an angry gesture towards the open country beyond the city wall.

  The caravan continued on past the gate and I slowly turned my head to regard the woman riding the camel behind me. She was watching me cattily and I sensed trouble. Trouble or not, she had saved me a bunch of it, but what did she require in return?

  Her eyes turned merry and it seemed as she spoke that she was able to read minds along with lying convincingly, "I always have need of an extra sword hand to ensure the safety of my caravan's travel. Not to mention the joy I receive having pulled one over on a Thyanian. Tell me, what is it you did to bring the paranoid lot of them down upon you so hard?"

  "I refused to honor a Prince's command."

  She whistled softly in a very unladylike fashion. She was an attractive woman, but easily 20 years my senior. She looked me over thoroughly as she drew abreast of me on her camel. "Safe passage in return for safety. Is it a deal?"

  "Deal," I said, having to give it little thought.

  She smiled smugly and I immediately regretted the hastiness of agreeing to the assignment of being a caravan guard. My benefactor looked ahead and gestured to me as she said, "Bruton, see that the young man has a tent allotted to him when we camp."

  "Yes, my Mistress Siryian," said a man of black skin color that would've easily made three of me.

  The man was far from fat though. Quite simply, he was the strongest looking man I'd ever encountered. The camel he rode on was larger than the rest and for good reason.

  Bruton gestured to me and then to the rear of the caravan and the meaning was clear. He wanted me to fall back to the rear of the column and join the rearguard.

  Obediently I did as commanded. All along the way there I couldn't help but think I had just signed by life away. If we were attacked I would most likely be the first to go, positioned at the rear of the caravan. Such was the price of freedom.

  I reached the rear of the caravan and joined the ranks of the rearguard. It was readily apparent that I might find my death by way of choking on dust before the blade of an enemy.

  "What did you do to get put back here?" asked one of my fellow guardsman disinterestedly, as he made a pass with the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the sweaty grime off his face.

  "I'm not quite sure."

  "Well, you're here now. Welcome to the south end of a camel. The name's Thanuel and this is Jarken." Thanuel finished by gesturing to a short but powerfully built man, who was also sweating profusely from the heat of the day and the exertion of walking.

  Jarken gave me a congenial enough word of welcome and I attempted to do the same, but found myself hacking on the dust. "Pleased to meet you," I said hoarsely after a moment.

  "The pleasure is all mine," the man said formally and then both he and Thanuel laughed uproariously.