“Don’t be afraid,” he says. “I promise, it will be worth it.”
My fear is instantly lessened by the obvious delight and confidence in his voice. Whatever he’s about to show me, wherever he’s going without me, he’s excited about something he wants me to see or experience.
As he moves away, my fingers slide down his arm, slipping to his hand, then his fingertips, and I keep contact as long as I can. When my arm drops, I wrap my arms around myself, my only remaining comfort in this dark, damp place.
I have no idea where Zogar went or how far. The sound of falling water is muffling the sound of his footsteps, and I certainly can’t see him in this utter darkness. My heart’s loudly thumping, but at least some excitement has mixed into my fear. Zogar would not put me in danger.
A breeze brushes my skin, more like a strong gust of wind. And then another.
“Where is the wind coming from?” I call out, and my voice echoes. We must be in a very large cave.
Then, the air fills with fire.
CHAPTER 17
Tynan
Ahalf-league away from the castle, we’re greeted by a group of armed men on horseback.
“Halt, in the name of the King of the Light,” the one in the center calls out. I’m not sure of his rank, because where he’d normally wear his military insignia, he has the emblem of Othrix.
I scan the group, hoping to find at least one soldier or knyght I recognize.
“Stand aside.” I take a strong stance. “I am Prince Tynan of Khotor.”
“Prince Tynan is dead.” The head knyght draws his sword. “For making this claim, you will lose your head.”
“Sir,” one of the soldiers says. “I recognize the prince.”
I nod toward the man, wishing that I recognized him, and he grins back as if we’ve shared many flagons of ale together. Perhaps we have.
“What is your business here?” the knyght in charge asks.
“Do I require business to visit my childhood home?” I stare up at the man, wishing I too had a horse, and a sword. I don’t see why my purpose is any of his business, but there’s too much at risk to let these men stop us. “I am returning home to seek an audience with the King.”
The knyght turns toward the soldier who stood up for me. “You are certain this is the prince?”
“Completely certain.”
“Fine.” The knyght shifts, and his horse stamps the ground in irritation. “I will send a carriage for you and your servants.”
Xendus grunts.
“That isn’t necessary,” I tell him, but immediately question why I turned down a ride. “My friends and I are happy to continue on foot. They are much enjoying the sights of the Khotori countryside.” And it will give us more time to rehearse our stories and make plans. And the less direct exposure Surath and Xendus have to others, the easier it will be to hide their identities.
“I will alert the castle guard.” The knyght jerks his reins, and his horse neighs and huffs against his bit as they turn. Then the entire group gallops toward the castle.
“Was that confrontation expected?” Xendus asks.
I shake my head. “Visitors, especially those on foot, are typically challenged only when they reach the gates.”
“Troubling.” Xendus frowns.
Surath takes his hand. “And even more troubling that those men were wearing that manticore symbol.”
We start walking again and I move next to Surath. “What do you mean by manticore symbol?”
“That emblem representing the religion’s deity. It’s clearly a manticore.”
