“Do they bite?”

“Not usually,” Hadrian replied. “Here, you can pat him on the neck.”

“It’s so…big,” Myron said with a look of terror on his face. He moved his hand to his mouth as if he might be sick.

“Please, just get on the horse, Myron,” Alric’s tone showed his irritation.

“Don’t mind him,” Hadrian said. “You can ride behind me. I’ll get on first and pull you up after, okay?”

Myron nodded, but the look on his face indicated he was anything but okay. Hadrian mounted and then extended his arm. With closed eyes, Myron reached out his arm and was pulled up by Hadrian. The monk held on tightly and buried his face in the large man’s back.

“Remember to breathe, Myron,” Hadrian told him as he turned the horse and began to walk back down the switchback trail.

The morning started cold but it eventually warmed some. Still, it was not as pleasant as it was the day before. They entered the shelter of the valley and headed toward the lake. Everything was still wet from the rain, and the tall fields of autumn-browned grass soaked their feet and legs as they brushed past. The wind came from the north now and blew into their faces. Overhead, a chevron of geese honked against the gray sky. Winter was on its way. Myron soon overcame his fear and picked his head up to look about.

“Dear Maribor, I had no idea grass grew this high. And the trees are so tall! You know I had seen pictures of trees this size but always thought the artists were just bad at proportion.”

The monk began to twist left and right to see all around him. Hadrian chuckled. “Myron, you squirm like a puppy.”

Lake Windermere appeared like gray metal pooling at the base of the barren hills. Although it was one of the largest lakes in Avryn, the fingers of the round cliffs hid much of it from view. Its vast open face reflected the desolate sky and appeared cold and empty. Except for a few birds, little else moved on the stony clefts. The whole place was unsettling.

They reached the western bank. Thousands of fist-sized rocks, rubbed smooth and flat by the lake, made a loose cobblestone plain where they could walk and listen to the quiet lapping of the water. From time to time, rain would briefly fall. They would watch it come across the surface of the lake, the crisp horizon blurring as the raindrops broke the stillness, and then it would stop while the clouds above swirled undecidedly.

Royce, as usual, led the small party. He approached the north side of the lake and found what appeared to be the faint remains of a very old and unused road leading toward the mountains beyond.

Myron’s wriggling was finally subsiding. He sat behind Hadrian but did not move for quite some time. “Myron, are you okay back there?” Hadrian asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I was watching the way the horses walk. I’ve been observing them for the last few miles. They are fascinating animals. Their back feet appear to step in exactly the same place their front feet left an instant before. Although, I suppose they aren’t feet at all, are they? Hooves! That’s right! These are hooves! Enylina in Old Speech.”

“Old Speech?”

“The ancient imperial language. Few people outside the clergy know it these days. It is something of a dead language. Even in the days of the empire it was only used in church services, but that has gone out of style and no one writes in it anymore.”

With that Myron became silent once more.

They turned away from the lakeside and started into a broad ravine that turned rocky as they climbed. The more they progressed the more apparent it was to Royce that they were traveling on what was once a road. The path was too smooth to be wholly natural, and yet over time, rocks had fallen from the heights and cracks formed where weeds forced themselves out of the crevices. Centuries had taken their toll, but there remained a faint trace of something ancient and forgotten.

Royce and Alric were riding more or less together. Hadrian and Myron lagged behind due to their horse carrying two. Before long, the ground stopped rising and leveled. Royce reined in his mount.

“Why are we stopping?” Alric asked.

“Have you forgotten that this might be a trap?”

“No,” the prince said, “I am quite aware of that fact.”

“Good, then in that case good luck, Your Majesty,” Royce told him.

“You’re not coming?”

“Your sister only asked us to bring you here. If you want to get yourself killed, that is your affair. Our obligation is complete.”

“Then I suppose this is a perfect time to tell you I am officially bestowing the title of Royal Protectors upon you and Hadrian. Now that I am certain you aren’t trying to kill me. You two will be responsible for defending the life of your king.”

“Really? How thoughtful of you, Your Highness,” Royce grinned. “I also suppose this is a good time to tell you, I don’t serve kings—unless they pay me.”

“No?” Alric smiled wryly. “All right then, consider it this way. If I live to return to Essendon Castle, I will be happy to rescind your execution order and will forget your unlawful entry of my castle. If however, I should die here, or if I’m taken captive and locked away forever in this prison, you will never be able to return to Medford. My uncle will identify you, if he hasn’t already, and you will be labeled murderers of the highest order. I’m sure there are already men searching for you. Uncle Percy seems like a courtly old gentleman, but believe me, I have seen his other side and he can be downright scary. He’s the best swordsman in Melengar. Did you know that? So if sovereign loyalty isn’t good enough for you, you might consider the simple practical benefits of keeping me alive.”

“The ability to convince others that your life is worth more than theirs must be a prerequisite for being king.”

“Not a prerequisite, but it certainly helps,” Alric replied with a grin.

“It will still cost you,” Royce said and the prince’s grin faded. “Let’s say one hundred gold tenents.”

“One hundred?” Alric protested.

“It’s what DeWitt promised, so it seems only fair. And if we are to be your security, you’ll do as I say. I can’t protect you if you don’t, and since we aren’t just playing with your silly little life, but my future as well, I will have to insist.”

Alric huffed and glowered, but he eventually nodded. “Like all good rulers, it is understood there are times when we know it is best to listen to skilled advisors. Just remember who I am, and who I will be when I return to Medford.”

As the fighter and the monk caught up, Royce said, “Hadrian, we’ve just been promoted to Royal Protectors.”

“Does it pay more?”

“Actually it does. It also weighs less. Give the prince back his sword.”

Hadrian handed the huge sword of Amrath to Alric, who slipped the broad, ornate baldric over one shoulder and strapped on the weapon. Wearing it looked a bit less foolish now that he was dressed and mounted, but Royce thought it was still too large for him.

“Wylin took this off my father and handed it to me…was it only two nights past? It was Tolin Essendon’s sword, handed down from king to prince for seven hundred years. We are one of the oldest unbroken families in Avryn.”

Royce dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Hadrian. “I’m going to scout up ahead and make sure there are no surprises waiting.” He left with surprising swiftness in a hunched run. He entered the shadows of the ravine and vanished.

“How does he do that?” Alric asked.

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Hadrian remarked.

“How did he do what?” Myron asked, studying a cattail he plucked just before they left the lakeside. “These things are marvelous by the way.”

They waited for several minutes and when they heard a bird song, Hadrian ordered them forward. The broken road weaved to and fro a bit until they could once again see the lake below. They were now much higher, and the lake looked like a large bright puddle. The road narrowed until at last it stopped. To either side hills rose at a gradual slope. Directly in front the path ended at a straight sheer cliff extending upward several hundred feet.