The Long Journey Home (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 8) (19 page)

The castle no longer looked inviting or homey. Its looming, massive gray bulk, with the half-dozen squat towers and the few taller, narrower spires, suddenly seemed like a dark upthrust of teeth. Would he ever be able to come back? He took a few minutes to say goodbye silently to his mother and wiped the tears from his cheeks. King Balton’s voice came to him gently and reassuringly. “Think, then act,” it said in his mind. It was one of the king’s favorite sayings. When indecision halted the progress of a situation or things came to an impasse, he would say, “Think, then act.”

Think, then act. Mikahl repeated the mantra to himself.

Reluctantly, he spurred Windfoot away from the stinking discharge stream and went deeper into the Northwood. He rode like that for a while, until he was sure Castleview, the city that grew from the base of Lakeside Castle’s outer wall, was far behind him. It was dark and he was surrounded by the thick of the forest, but he thought he knew exactly where he was. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to reach his destination without being caught.

The distant sound of horses’ hooves pounding on a hard-packed road caused a nearby owl to burst into flight. Mikahl froze, trying to discern over the pounding of his heart, just how close to him those hoof beats were. He realized he was very close—far too close—to the Northroad. He was relieved to hear the rider was racing toward the castle, not away from it. It was probably just a messenger from Portsmouth or Crossington; nothing out of the ordinary.

Mikahl had a choice to make. He could chance the road, make time, and risk being seen, or he could continue through the Northwood, and arrive at the Midway Passage road somewhere beyond Crossington. One way he would be able to enter the Reyhall Forest without being seen, but the other way would take him there a full day sooner. He didn’t want to be seen in Crossington. It was a fairly large town, but the people were always alert to late night travelers. Many a bandit roamed those roads, searching for easy victims this time of year. The Summer’s Day travelers were about and most of them were as careless as they came. If he went through the woods and bypassed the town, there was the chance Glendar or more likely his wizard, Pael, would have people looking for him on the Midway Passage before he even reached it.

“Think, then act!” the words sounded audible this time. Before he knew it, he had spurred Windfoot toward the road. For the sake of the gods, you’re the king’s own squire and everybody knows it, he told himself. No one outside of the castle knew the king had been poisoned yet. If anyone tried to stop him, he could talk his way out of it. No one would doubt him; his saddle had the royal seal embroidered into it and Windfoot was a destrier of obvious castle stock. Once Windfoot and the packhorse were on the hard-packed road, he gradually worked both animals into a steady gallop. He doubted anyone would have the courage to question him.

He made the right choice. By dawn, Crossington was a few miles behind him and he didn’t think a single soul had noticed his early morning passing. The cutoff road that connected the Northroad to the Midway Passage avoided going through Crossington proper, and it had been deserted. Only a light scattering of cottages and farmhouses were
on the eastern side of the crossroads town anyway. The Midway Passage, however, was normally a heavily traveled cross-country trade route, but even so, the whole of the sun was completely in the sky before he saw another person. An old shepherd, who was obviously driving his sheep to the shear-house in town, urged his animals out of Mikahl’s way with an apologetic wave. Once the man was out of sight, Mikahl decided to rest the horses.

He let them graze at the roadside while he enjoyed the cool freshness of the late spring morning. He had another choice to make soon, but he was too caught up in the peaceful morning to let it worry him. Over the course of the night, he decided he would take this one day at a time and try to enjoy what he could of it. Summer was ready to take over. Birds soared high overhead and the hum of various insects filled the air. He watched them as they buzzed back and forth between the colorful patches of wildflowers that dotted the gentle, southward rolling hills. Eventually the land in that direction flattened and became a patchwork of golden brown crop fields, but here, it served as grazing ground for the many herd animals on their way to market.

Ahead and to the north, like a great green fog hovering heavy on the surface of the land, was the Reyhall Forest. It extended from the road as far north as the eye could see. Behind Mikahl there was nothing but trouble, which kept him from looking that way. He knew that three days’ ride beyond Crossington was the sea and the busy city of Portsmouth. Those places had to be behind him for good. He doubted he would ever see them again.

He rode as far as he could that day, but didn’t quite reach the town of Halter. He knew it was for the best he didn’t make it that far. The temptation to sleep at an inn and eat a warm meal was stronger than he imagined it would be. The whole last part of the day, he entertained thoughts of pushing on and doing just that. Good sense finally prevailed, however, and as the sun started to set he led the horses a good way into the Reyhall Forest and hobbled them near a patch of lush green grass. He decided against a fire. He had plenty of dried, salted meat, and two whole wheels of cheese. He brushed and watered the horses, then fed himself. Afterward
he leaned back against a tree and stared up through the branches at the star-filled sky. It wasn’t long before exhaustion took hold of him, and he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Dawn’s light had just breached the world and turned the sky a pink, peachy color, when the sound of an unfamiliar horse snorting and the rough, urgent whisper of a man awakened Mikahl with a start. When another nearby voice coldly asked, “Are we gonna kill him?” Mikahl knew he was in serious trouble.

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