Time proved him right. Adhémar returned as Camid and Paien came outside. They gathered together for a moment to review their plans for traveling farther that night. Miach was just preparing to inform the others of his plan before the peace of the evening and the comfort of their full bellies was disturbed.
Hell broke loose.
Miach watched in astonishment as a half dozen creatures of the kind he had grown accustomed to seeing sprang out from the shadows of the inn. He wasn't sure if he was more surprised that he hadn't noticed them, or that they made straight for Morgan.
Morgan jerked Fletcher behind her and dispatched two with only a slight bit of effort. Miach didn't even have a chance to draw his sword before the others were seen to.
Morgan?
They had come for Morgan.
He could hardly believe it, but he knew he had to. It proved to him beyond doubt that he had to act.
"Convinced?" Adhémar panted, sheathing his sword and glaring at him. "There is no safety on the road."
"I never disagreed with that," Miach said. "I was thinking we should pass the night here?"
"You're mad," Adhémar said. "We must make for Tor Neroche as quickly as possible. It is our only hope of safety."
"And speaking of safety, there is something we must discuss." Miach nodded curtly at his companions, then took his brother by the arm. "Excuse us."
Adhémar tried to pull his arm away. "What do you mean, excuse us? I've business?"
"With me," Miach said shortly. He dragged the very resistive king of Neroche out of earshot, then turned on him. "I'm sending her home," he began without preamble.
"You're sending who home?" Adhémar said, jerking his arm away and rubbing it in annoyance.
"I'm sending Morgan home."
"You'rewhat!" Adhémar said incredulously.
"I'm sending her back to Melksham. She'll be safe there."
Adhémar looked at him as it he'd never seen him before. "But she's the wielder!"
"We don't know that."
"You convinced me."
"My mistake," Miach said shortly. "I don't care what she's capable of. She's a target and I won't be responsible for putting her life in jeopardy."
"And I don't want to potentially lose what might turn the tide," Adhémar snarled. "I want her in Tor Neroche and I want her hand on that blade. It it calls her name, I fully intend to use her to win the war. "
"Adhémar, you fool, she might die!"
"And I don't take that risk with every sortie?" Adhémar retorted. "Perhaps you have yourself safely tucked inside your tower, but I do not enjoy such luxury?"
Miach punched his brother in the mouth before he thought better of it.
Matters did not improve from there.
When they finally pulled themselves apart, Miach was rapidly losing sight from one swollen eye and Adhémar was clutching his nose with his hand as blood gushed from it. Miach glared at his brother.
"I have been places you wouldn't dare dream about," he said coldly.
"And you have showed me the one person who might possibly be able to spare my kingdom," Adhémar said, likewise quite chilly in his tone. "You have adutyto your liege lord to aid him in keeping that kingdom safe. Until I have my magic back, I'll use Morgan however I have to. "
Miach folded his arms over his chest and suppressed the urge to break a few of his brother's bones. "I might be able to determine what's happened to your magic if you'd just let me look at that damned sword of yours."
