Unwrapping Artur’s hoof, Roark frowned.Thebruise had grown and darkened.He led the horse into the coldwater, hoping it would soak some of the heat and swelling out, andscooped up a handful of black mud he packed into the sole andrewrapped the hoof.
“Next time, tend to yer horse first,” Nedsaid as Shaw retied Roark’s wrists.“We’re wasting good time.”
Roark nodded and bit down on his grin.Wasting time was exactly what he was trying to do.Grabbing thesaddle horn of the cob with his tied hands, he leaned back andswayed like he was suddenly dizzy.He lifted his booted foot andmissed the stirrup, taking three swipes at it before finallystuffing his boot toe into the stirrup, swung his leg up, missedthe saddle, and fell back onto the soft bank of the stream.
“Get him up on his damned horse,” Nedordered.
Roark lay on the ground, his eyes purposelyunfocused as Shaw and Cam grabbed him by the shoulders and pulledhim to his feet.He swayed against them and let his arms and legshang like dead weight as they heaved him up onto the cob, bellydown, head on one side of the saddle and his legs dangling over theother.
“Sit up, curse you,” Shaw spat.
“I’ms trying,” Roark slurred as he half-assedswung one leg over the cob’s rump, taking two tries before hesucceeded.He lay there panting and rolled his eyes.“I’ms a littledizzy, lads.”
“You was fine when you was tending yerhorse,” Shaw grumbled.
“Musta stood up too fasht.”Roark slowlypushed himself up to sitting, grabbed the saddle horn to steadyhimself, and pressed his lips tight when Shaw didn’t tie his handsto it.
“Let’s go,” Ned barked.“Daylight’swasting.”
They rode north, keeping the western woods totheir shoulders.Roark managed to fall off the cob two more timesbefore they tied him to the saddle.When they stopped at noon towater the horses and relieve themselves, Roark unwrapped Artur’shoof and chipped the dried mud away.
“Damnation.”Still kneeling, he motioned forNed and showed him the stallion's hoof.“The bruise is gettingbigger,” he told Ned.“And his limp’s been getting worse.”
Ned pulled on his scraggly beard.“So?”
“So, it’s only going to get worse if he keepswalking on it,” Roark told him.“He’ll move slower and slower untilhe founders.”
Ned eyed Artur’s hoof, which the horse wasn’tputting any weight on, and spat on the ground.“Damned horse ain’tworth spit if he founders.”He drew his short sword.
“Wait.”Roark threw his tied hands up andswayed a little.“You don’t have to kill him.Just leave him hereto rest up.There’s plenty of water and good grazing.You can comeback this way after you’ve turned me in to the laird’s men, catchhim and sell him if he’s healed.If he hasn’t,” Roark shrugged,“then you’ll likely find his bones picked over by scavengers.”
“Do what you need for him and be quick aboutit,” Ned said.
Roark uncinched his saddle and pulled it offArtur.He left the hoof unwrapped and removed Artur’s bridle andreins, pressed his forehead to the stallion’s and patted his neck.“Take care of yourself, my friend,” he said.
He mounted the cob, only taking two swipes atthe stirrup before stuffing the toe of his boot into it, andglanced at the woods.The woods Alina should’ve been long gonefrom.So why’d he see a flash of light like the sun reflecting on aglass lens blinking at him from the woods’ edge?
They continued to ride north until darkwithout any sign Alina had passed that way, which Roark hoped meantshe was on her way northwest to Silver Water Keep.He hadn’t seenany more flashes of light from the woods, yet he still had thefeeling she was following them.At least Ned and his men seemed tothink she was long gone.
“If that girl makes the firth,” Cam grumbledas he struck his flint to start the campfire, “odds are some shipcaptain’ll snatch her and get the reward.”
“Quit yer whining,” Ned told him.“Not thatanother ten pounds o’ silver wouldn’t be nice, but we gots our tenpounds guaranteed right here,” he said, nodding at Roark, whom Shawwas tying to a tree.
“We’re not there yet,” Shaw said, yanking therope tight around Roark’s chest.“I fer one ain’t gonna count mysilver ’til it’s in my purse.”
“Look, lads,” Roark said.“I know you’redoing this for the silver and likely don’t care, but we didn’t killthe laird’s son.”
“Yer right,” Ned said.“We don’t care.”
“What you should care about though,” Roarkcontinued, “is that the girl is no serving wench, she’s PrincessAlina, daughter of Northland King Jerrik of Sea Ridge.”
“So?”
“So, King Jerrik has six warships at hiscommand and will be coming for his daughter any day.That’s why wewere riding for the North Sea Firth.Why she’s still headingthere.”
“Even if that’s true,” Ned said, “what’s itgot to do with us?”
“Northmen are well known for theirhonor-bound sense of revenge,” Roark told them.“Almost as much asthey’re known for their skill with a long sword.”
