Dark One Rising(141)

Tomorrow would be another day. She would try harder then to escape the hold he had on her. For the time being, she would have to lock him away into her heart. If she was to save him, save them all, she had to do what the elf and magician told her to do. Reluctantly, she looked upon his face once more, then shook him away and slept deep, mind clear, heart full.





CHAPTER 32


A thin figure galloped down the road, his small frame leaning forward in the saddle, face close to the horses neck. The sun was starting to sink low in the sky, and the night chills were setting in. The wan daylight of the last couple of weeks had Maddon thinking that perhaps the darkness had already begun taking over, that time had already run out. He didn’t want to think that, so he tried to be positive, but the conversations in the taverns the last week gave him reasons to doubt. His city had not been the only lamb to the slaughter. Several cities all the way up toward the north had fallen victim to Fallon and his army of death.

Word reached the small hamlet of Lakendra that the Triple Cities had been overtaken, the border now in the hands of Fallon’s generals. He had yet to march into Kingswell, but he knew it would be only a matter of time. Time had run out.He cursed under his breath. That devil had done too much already, and he seemed to be getting bolder with each strike. Maddon had no doubts that he would march into Kingswell in the light of day or try to breach King Dain’s city right under his nose. He was supposed to give message to General Thorne about what was happening, but maybe they already knew. Maybe he was getting to Pembroke too late, and the news had already spread. Once he reached Alban Thorne in Pembroke, he would know.

He would not let them push him aside. He would not sit this one out. He would fight in this war beside the rest of the men. He owed his grandfather that much.

As he got closer to Pembroke, and the sun was just making that dull glow on the horizon meaning dusk, he could see down the hill the twinkling lights of the town. He could smell the scent of wood smoke rising out of the chimneys.

Alban Thorne’s garrison headquarters was on the far side of town, closer to the coast, and he wanted to be there not too long after dark.

He was amazed that in the week that it took him to ride from Amaris, he didn’t run into any of Fallon’s soldiers. He had suspected that Fallon’s army would be crossing the terrain and was confused as to why he hadn’t seen any signs of them.

He feared that maybe they were holed up in the Triple Cities waiting for the reinforcements to ride from Boones Ferry. Fallon would more than likely use the time to outfit his remaining troops and go over the battle plan now that the border was breached.

Maddon frowned. He hoped that he wasn’t too late, that the troops Fallon was waiting on had not already landed in Boones Ferry. He hoped that he was getting to Alban fast enough to warn them and prepare them for battle on this end of the province. If Fallon had already taken over the border, then his warning could be too late. He prayed to the God of war that they still had time.

He rode toward town, passing by the small farms that were spread across the hilly landscape. Corn and wheat and barley still seemed to be prospering, the reaping time upon them soon. He could smell a mix of rich soil and fertilizer and heard the sound of cattle lowing somewhere in the distance.

He reached town about a half hour after dark and took the main cobbled street through it, toward the northeast gate. After he passed the market square he came upon a small inn, the light glowing softly through the dingy front window. Woodsmoke billowed out the chimney into the chilly night air. He dismounted his horse and flung his supply bag over his shoulder.

He opened the tavern door and inconspicuously looked over the room, making note of the people around him. He did a quick survey and didn’t notice any guards in Rommel livery. He went over to the barman and got his attention.

“Pardon me, friend, but could you tell me how to reach General Thorne?”

The barman looked suspiciously at the youth, taking a survey of his own, trying to guess what his intentions might be. “What would ye want with ole Alban?”

“I bring message from Amaris.”

The barman rubbed his stubbled chin. His fat jowls were squeezed by the too tight collar of his linen shirt, and his beady eyes squinted at him from under shaggy eyebrows.

“Word is Amaris was destroyed.”

“That’s correct. It was my city, but no longer. There are only a few of us left. I have information. I need to get to Alban.” He pulled a coin out of his pocket and slid it across the bar. The barman picked it up and pocketed it into his apron.

“I think I can find someone who can get to him. The garrison walls are heavily guarded though, not many get through.”