Outside Garinor’s house stood a tall brown horse, tied to a nearby post. A two-person saddle had been set upon the beast, and it didn’t seem to like how it felt on its back. The horse kept shimmying back and forth and turning its head back as if to try to scratch an unreachable itch.
The guardsman guided Garinor to the horse without word. His looming presence kept the boy quiet and as it was obvious what was next to come, Garinor didn’t ask any questions. He had never ridden a horse before, which became apparent to the guard when the boy tried to hoist himself up in a very awkward manner, accidentally catching his foot in the stirrup and nearly falling off again. The guard bit back laughter and steadied the youth, helping him into the rear seat.
The guardsman practically sprang into the saddle without any effort at all. He grabbed the reins and it was only then that he turned his head and spoke. “Throw your arms around me and clasp them tightly. We will travel with haste.” Once Garinor’s arms reached around and took a firm hold, the guard snapped the reins and they launched forward.
Despite the panic created by all the mystery, Garinor lost himself in the delight of riding on the horse. The pace was so fast, it was like the horse was enchanted. The scenery passed by quickly and blurred as they went. The wind was kept from battering his face because he was sitting behind the guard, but he could feel glancing blows on either side of himself anyway. He tightened his grip around the guard’s midsection, and checked himself repeatedly when he felt like he was going to tumble off.
He felt like they rode for hours, but it was only about twenty minutes before the first major change took place. He no longer watched cottages darting by, but an open field, and later on, packs of trees. At this point, he felt the guard lean forward and the horse gathered even more speed.
The turbulence was hard on Garinor. He clung to the guard desperately, fearing what would happen to him if he lost his grip and fell to the hard ground. He wondered if the guard could even breathe, he was squeezing so hard. Part of him didn’t care too much, though, for this man had just wrenched him from his own home without even a hint as to why except that it was the command of the king.
Garinor had no quarrel with the king. Most young people would hardly even think anything of the king at all. The region was relatively peaceful and there were no particularly hard times. People were not oppressed or forced into living lives that didn’t suit them. It had seemed like such a fair and kind existence, except for this moment where his whole life was suddenly being taken away from him.
The boy’s grip faltered somewhat. He didn’t know if it was the thundering of the horse underneath him or if it was the shock that he was not going through his usual morning routine. He didn’t realize that something else entirely had happened that had broken his reverie.
The guardsman seemed to be gasping. Garinor noticed that the horse sped up a little and the guard had hunched over more. But there was definitely a change. Garinor had the feeling that the guard was not intentionally leaning further forward, but that he couldn’t help himself.
He felt his grip slipping from the man’s midsection. His hands were damp with sweat in his fear, and he scrambled to get a better grip on the guard. But try as he might, his hands just felt more and more damp. Finally, he lost his grip entirely as the horse leaped over a dip in the path and Garinor found himself supine on the dirt, gazing up at the sky with sparkles of pain flashing across his eyes.
And his hands. He could see them as the flashes went away. His hands were indeed wet, but not just sweaty. He saw blood too. Garinor managed to tilt his head forward to the horse as it continued to run ahead, and from the horse he saw the guardsman fall away to the dirt road, motionless.
Panic seized the boy. He knew the blood on his hands was not his. It was from the guard. But why? What had happened? Had someone attacked? If so, he knew he wasn’t safe. But maybe the guard was just sick and needed water. He didn’t know. He remembered his mother’s tears and he started to tremble. Something was terribly wrong.
If Garinor should get off the road into the western trees, turn to page 12.
If Garinor should check on the guard, turn to page 11.