“And will be again.”

“For others perhaps, but not for me. It seems my fate was cast from the beginning. I was never-”

“All were born for happiness, Esme. But you have seen much of pain and trouble, and it will take time to heal those inner wounds. You must not expect them to disappear in an evening.”

“I thought by coming here it would be different. But I have brought my trouble with me.”

“Then we shall do whatever can be done to free you-and you must also help.”

“I will try, Bria. I will try for your sake.”

“Not for me, dear friend. For yourself.”

The hunt moved through the thick-grown trails of Pelgrin Forest, and the wood rang with the voices of the hunters and the sounding of horns whenever beast was caught or trophy won. In a clearing, through which coursed a shining stream, Quentin and Durwin stopped to allow their horses to drink.

“Tired so soon?” asked Durwin. Other riders entered the meadows, also paused at the water, and then went on.

“I should return to the festival. My presence there will be required to judge the games.” He listened to the crash of horses and riders through the underbrush, and felt the warm sun on his face. “It is a good hunt, eh?”

“So it is! I do not remember one better. But you go on; I will remain a little. I would like to see the young Prince ride. It is a joy to watch him. I shall try to find them.”

Quentin turned Blazer and started back across the meadow; he waved to Durwin and galloped away.

Durwin struck off for the far side of the clearing where a trail entered the wood. He knew the forest well, and had a hunch where he might find Toli and Gerin, for he had seen them pushing a southerly course just before he and the King had entered the meadow.

How long has it been since I have lived in the forest? he wondered. Ah, too long! I have forgotten how peaceful it is, and how fragrant and beautiful. Perhaps I should leave the castle and come back to my old home. Perhaps. But I am content to be where the King wants me. Yes, I am content.

These and other thoughts occupied his mind as he rode along the leaf-laden byways of the forest. The green shadows were cool; yellow sunlight struck through open patches in the leafy canopy, dappling the path with dancing light. Durwin savored the solitude of the wood and felt his heart soar like a hawk on an upward draft.

Just then the air shivered with a startled cry-a sudden, sharp yelp. It hung for a moment and then was cut off. The forest deadened the sound, muffling it so that Durwin could not discern the source. But it seemed to come from somewhere very close at hand.

He spurred his steed forward, heedless of the branches reaching out for him. There was another shout, closer this time.

Durwin threw the reins to the side, and the horse careened through the underbrush. Nettles tore at his legs. He ducked branches and urged the horse to greater speed. He saw a movement through the trees just ahead. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a horse rearing, and dark shapes like shadows darting through the wood.

The next instant he was through the trees and pounding into a wider place in the trail. There before him he saw Toli and Prince Gerin on horseback, with three men in dark clothing around them. The men had short swords and were circling the riders, trying to get at them. Only Riv’s flashing hooves kept these assailants at bay.

Without thinking, Durwin loosed a shout and dashed forward. The men heard the whoop and turned to see a new threat bearing down on them. The circle broke as one of the foe turned to meet the hermit.

Before the man could raise his sword, Toli whirled Riv and the warhorse’s shoulder knocked him to the ground. He yelled as he went down; his two companions bolted and ran, melding back into the forest.

The man on the ground looked up, fear twisting his begrimed features. He was bleeding from a cut lip. He spat once and then hinged between the horses, gaining his feet as he made for the trail’s edge. He dove into the brake and was gone.

“Who were they?” asked Durwin. He felt his heart racing in his chest.

“I do not know,” answered Toli. “We merely stopped here to choose a direction-they were on us in an instant”

“Are you sound, young master?” the hermit asked.

Prince Gerin nodded slowly; his eyes showed white all around.

“What do you think they wanted?”

Toli squinted his eyes in the direction of the fleeing assailants. “That I mean to find out.” He glanced from the Prince to Durwin quickly. “Stay with Durwin, young sir. He will look after you. I will be but a moment.”

The Prince seemed about to protest, but shut his mouth and obeyed.

“Be careful, Toli. You have no weapons.”

“Return to the field at once,” ordered Toli. “I will meet you there directly.” With that he urged Riv forward into the undergrowth after the mysterious men.

“SOME WICKEDNESS is afoot,” said Durwin quietly. “I feel it. There is evil close about.”

Prince Gerin peered at the hermit closely. The boy set his jaw and stared ahead grimly. The act reminded Durwin of another who had faced trouble with the same silent resolve. How very like his father the young Prince was.

They were riding back along the trail-the way Toli and the Prince had come-when Durwin put out a hand and they stopped. “Listen!” he hissed. Both cocked their heads to one side. They heard a rustle in the bushes behind them along the path. “Perhaps Toli is returning,” offered the Prince. Durwin felt the darkness around him increase. He could almost see it as a presence, feel its desperate strength. It occurred to him that he had encountered such a malignant force before, and in exactly the same way-a long time ago.

“We must run for it!” he whispered harshly. Gerin acted quickly and without question. With a snap of the reins the two horses leapt away. They charged along the winding forest path toward the safety of the open plain. They had not run far before they met two men in the path ahead, wearing the same dark clothing as the others they had encountered. The men waved swords in front of the horses and shouted fiercely. The horses stopped and turned. Durwin pulled his mount around and Gerin did the same, but as they made to retreat, two more ruffians stepped out onto the path behind them.

“There!” cried Durwin, pointing into the brush. He hesitated and allowed the Prince to flash past and then darted after him.

But the pony became entangled in the undergrowth and went down. Prince Gerin yelped as he was pitched over his mount’s head to the ground where he landed with a grunt.

“Hurry!” shouted Durwin. “Get back in the saddle! Hurry!” The boy leaped back to his feet and grabbed at the dangling reins as the horse struggled to its knees. He was back in the saddle even before the animal had regained its legs. “Ride!” shouted Durwin. “Ride!”

The hermit glanced down and saw hands reaching out for him. He slashed down with the reins and heard someone curse. He spurred his mount after the fleeing Prince, but felt his arm caught and held. The horse jerked away and Durwin was hauled from the saddle, struggling as he fell.

He landed on his back at the edge of the trail. There was a flash in the shadow, and he heard the air sing above his head. He squirmed and rolled to his knees and felt a sharp sting in his side. As he half-turned and threw himself backwards toward the trail, he heard the rush of air through clenched teeth and saw the glancing light arc toward him. The blow caught him low in the back; his knees buckled, and he toppled onto the trail.

Durwin put his hand to his side and felt the warm wetness seeping through his clothes. When he brought his hand away, he saw it dripping red in the dimness of the forest. The wound burned now; flames spread through him from the throbbing pain just below the ribs. He tried to raise himself, but fell back-legs numb and unfeeling.