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Leaving her unattended had been a rash move on his part. He should have known better than to trust she would remain compliant. She warned him. Her loyalty belonged to her master. Crispin spat on the ground and draped the bags over the back of the saddle beside Henry.
He freed the horse and slowly made his way down the hill once more with painfully slow steps. Of all moments to appear, Henry chose twilight. He shook his head as they ventured away from the hidden meadow.
As he walked, Crispin’s mind churned. He came to a stop when the realization doused him with a cold touch of dread. Henry arrived in the meadow. He knew where to find the message. His family had a hand in the raid designed to kill Ruby as a child.
Crispin stumbled back and rested his hand against the horse’s neck. He glanced at the unconscious body of his friend draped over the saddle. Surely he could not be the master she spoke of. He shook the rancid thoughts from his mind. There was no proof of Henry’s treachery. He had been a faithful friend and ally for years.
Unless Ivy poisoned him against Crispin, using him for her own twisted plot. His head ached from the horrid thoughts swirling in the depths of his mind. He pushed them aside. First, he would find a place to rest and revive Henry. Then he would confront him.
Pushing forward, Crispin ignored everything but the determination to reach the main road and locate shelter for the night.
The soft song of a nightingale in the trees echoed the call of an owl. Crispin forged onward, his mind bound in torment. He was no closer to finding Ruby than he had been before, and his prisoner had escaped, but at least he recovered Henry.
After wandering the thick woods well into the night, they spilled out onto the king’s road. With the moon high above them, he led the way in the direction of the nearest village.
Thunder echoed in the distance. Crispin swore and walked faster wishing he had Ghost to carry him.
The thunder grew louder making Crispin turn. He blinked in disbelief at the blur of gray racing toward him. Was that Ghost? Before he could draw his sword, the incoming horse knocked him backward. He stumbled, slamming into the horse carrying Henry. The horse squealed and sidestepped causing Crispin to lose his balance and fall to the ground.
Scrambling to right himself, Crispin struggled to pull the sword from his scabbard. Shadows played in the scattered moonlight.
“Show yourself!” He braced himself for the oncoming fight, but nothing prepared him for the pain shooting through his skull as his assailant struck his head from behind.
Crispin collapsed against the dirt and the world around him disappeared as he joined Henry in the land of dreams and nightmares.
Chapter Ten
The gentle rockingdid nothing to improve the pounding in his head. Henry wrenched his eyes open. Darkness. He blinked a few times, wondering if somehow he lost his vision. The flicker of movement below told him he still possessed those faculties, even with his one eye still swollen.
Hooves. Dirt. Intense pressure against his chest. It took a few moments to realize he was draped over the back of a horse. The memories slowly filtered into his mind. Riding to the meadow. The twisted oak tree. A message hidden inside. He twisted his head but recognized none of the surroundings thanks to the darkness. Even the moonlight helped little, thanks to the thick clouds blocking its glow.
Henry shifted his weight, but his arms lay weak beside him. He tugged but to no avail. They were bound tightly. He swore beneath his breath and pinched his eyes closed to fight off the wave of sickness from the motion of the horse.
In an effort to ignore the rebellious twisting in his gut, he focused his thoughts instead on how he came to be in such an uncomfortable situation. Francis gave him little recourse, threatening to torture Ruby unless he complied with his demands.
The two guards led him blindfolded from the cell. They put him on a horse and led him from whatever fortress Francis occupied. The solid thud of hooves on stone shifted to softer terrain. They passed rushing water. A river or stream perhaps. He could not tell the hour or the direction in which they traveled. He swayed in the saddle, his bound hands gripping the horse’s mane to keep from falling off.
When they had reached their destination, the guards removed his blindfold and gave him explicit directions. Follow the trail to the hidden meadow. Retrieve the message within the oak tree. Return post haste. If he did not follow these directions, Ruby would suffer the consequences of his failure.
He failed her once before. He would not do so again.
With difficulty, he urged the horse to follow the narrow trail. The sun set in the distance, making the entrance difficult to find. But the meadow was where they said it would be. The tree contained a small satchel. He put it in his pocket and then...he was ambushed.
Crispin. He groaned when the memory revealed itself like a flash of lightning. He tried to warn him and then nothing. Days without food and care left him weak and exhausted. He could not fight back. Could not warn his friend.
