All at once, the trolls started turning back, racing into the deep places of their warren. Vilmos charged after them.
Ærühn shouted a warning, "Vilmos, no! It's a ruse!" Not wasting a moment, Ærühn commanded Lilbær to "break," even as he leapt onto the fighting bear's bare back.
Vilmos gave the "break" command to Warbær, attempted a running mount. He landed off center and clung to Warbær's bare back in that lopsided position as the bears charged out of the warren.
Bright daylight reflecting off white snow temporarily blinded bears and men. The bears charged onward, instinct carrying them away. Behind him, Ærühn heard snow trolls clawing their way out of the warren. Even though he was certain Lilbær heard this as well, he urged the bear to race faster and faster.
Vilmos' eyes adjusted to the brightness just as they crested the rise they'd rode down and into the dark recess earlier in the day. He told himself he didn't want to glance back. He did anyway and what he saw terrified him.
Chapter 6
Along the road ahead loomed the walls of Gregortonn, taller than the mightiest of the redwoods in the Pallisades. Walls that had repelled giants and titans alike during the Great War. Emel rode Ebony Lightning, his black stallion, alongside Galia, who rode Razor, the king cat she'd been bonded to since the age of twelve.
A twenty-chain caravan in front of them moved lethargically and the battements lining the road made it impossible to skirt around. With evening about to settle in, he longed for a warm meal, a cold drink, and a hot bath. The order needn't be exact, but he did need all three. It'd been a long day.
Some hours ago, as the morning dawned, he and his privateers had robbed the very caravan he and Galia followed. Galia knew nothing of this, though his dark hood and cloak were stuffed into his saddlebags even now.
He was agitated after such a long day, and his earlier quarrel with Galia wasn't helping his mood, though somehow his current predicament seemed a fitting end to a day that he'd never welcomed in the first place. In fact, if he could have turned back time, he'd have turned it back to the instant before Galia kissed in the hot pool and whispered to him between her kisses. He'd have stopped her from saying anything of what her father knew, for not knowing and not suspecting anything would have made his life so much easier.
Knowing, he must now wonder about her father's intention. He must consider every action those around him took. He must worry about every stray word from her father, from her father's soldiers, from Galia herself.
Subterfuge was one thing, but how was he supposed to exchange words, sit across from or even be in the same room with a man who knew he was an enemy of the crown. King Jarom Tyr'anth was not a man to be trifled with. He was a man who trifled with others. A man who flayed alive the least of those who displeasured him and reserved even graver punishments for those who truly displeasured him.
"Emel," Galia said loudly.
He knew at once she'd said something that he hadn't heard. "Sorry, my love," he started to say. Remembering where he was and with the press of so many others around them all waiting to get into the city, he said instead, "Rider Tyr'anth, you must forgive me. I was lost in thought."
She turned Razor in front of him, and he had to quickly rein in Ebony Lightning. "Be ready," she said pointing to the gatehouse ahead.
He looked up, saw the grand arches and realized they were approaching the outer portcullis. He also saw the gate guards were searching everyone entering the city. Quietly, he said, "We need to turn around."
"Why?"
Emel patted his saddlebags. "This day's misadventures."
Galia glared at him. "You didn't? Tell me you didn't?"
Emel winked. "I did. This very caravan."
"You're incorrigible."
"Move along," a brash voice said suddenly.
Galia shot Emel a withering glance as she turned Razor sharply, neatly forcing the pike-wielding guard to step back. "Address me properly or not at all."
The guard slammed the butt end of his pike against the stones and saluted. "King's Knight Champion, I did not see that it was you."
Galia urged Razor forward, pressing the guard back a few more steps. "Surely you saw Razor? Every cat rider in the city deserves proper address. Rider, at the least."
"Rider, from first bond to last breath, a title earned," the guard said after swallowing hard.
Galia's sour expression eased. "Were you a rider? Or did you serve with riders?"
The guard nodded. There was a sad look in his eyes suddenly. "Both."
"Very well then," Galia said as a dismissal, followed by a salute. The guard returned the salute, turned on his heel, and walked back along the road.