Raymer was at his heels, searching for a rope. When he found a horse in a stall, he grabbed a bridle instead. He slipped it onto the horse. He removed a coiled rope from a peg and tossed it to Quint as he reached for a first saddle. Quint stepped outside, the rope ready to throw.
The old woman had emerged from her home and stood at the gate, a stern expression on her face. She held a butcher knife at her side and looked ready to use it. Raymer understood her reaction. His mother would do the same.
“Not like you to steal horses from an old lady,” Quint said as he pulled the horse closer with the rope.
“We need them more than she does,” Raymer snapped, not liking their actions, but trying to keep his mind centered on escaping.
“She might disagree.”
Raymer said, “I have an idea. Get the saddles and bridles on all three of them.” He darted to the prone figure of the Dungeon Master and patted his waist. Finding nothing, he turned him over to pat the other side. He had found a bulge before he heard the jingle of coins. The purse came free, and Raymer tore it open, spilling coins into his hand.
Of the nine coins, two were copper, two small silver, a large silver, and four small gold. The three horses were worth at most two small silvers, or one large if they were for sale. Since she didn’t want to sell them, the price should be more. He ran to where she stood, not backing off a single step at his advance. He handed her two gold pieces, with a shrug of an apology.
“Too much!” she snapped.
She had probably never seen a gold coin in her life. Raymer hadn’t. He opened his hand and showed her the coins remaining in his hand. “We escaped the King’s dungeons, and these belonged to that man lying over there. He’s the new Dungeon Master.”
“Is he dead?”
“No.”
“Are you going to kill him?”
“Of course not. But we did relieve him of his purse, and we’re in a hurry. We are good men.”
She turned, the gold coins clutched in her hand, coins worth enough to purchase several farms like hers. “Don’t leave, yet. Wait by the front door.”
She quickly disappeared inside as Quint tossed the unconscious body of the Dungeon Master over a saddle and tied his hands and feet so he wouldn’t slide off. The other two horses were saddled and ready to ride. Quint threw a leg over his horse, making the largest of the three look small. He took the reins of the horse with the Dungeon Master in hand.
Once in the saddle, Quint started to ride off, away from the cottage, leaving Raymer to the old woman.
Raymer said, “Hold on. She said to wait for her.”
“Need I remind you that we’re in something of a hurry? You can wait,” but he held his horse at the edge of the corral and watched their back trail.
After taking a quick glance at their back trail and finding it empty of pursuers, Raymer darted for the cabin door. He peeked inside. The old woman hurriedly scooped food into a blanket and folded the four corners together. She wrapped a piece of small rope around them and hefted it. She opened a trunk and pulled blankets out, along with a pile of clothing that appeared to be mostly shirts.
She looked up at him and scooped the bundle into her arms. “Help me with this. The shirts will be small for men as large as you, but better than you have, and you’re going to need food.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“You could have given me two silvers, and I’d be ahead on the deal. Instead, you gave me enough for my husband to replace the horses with a hundred.”
Raymer carried it all outside and tied the bundle with the food on the saddle of his horse while handing the blankets and shirts to Quint, “Here, carry this stuff until we rest.”
“We won’t rest. At least, I won’t.” He turned to the old woman standing on her porch and watching. “We appreciate your help, woman. I also want to say that you have helped two good men who were going to die in that damned dungeon. Not because of what we did, but because others believe differently than us.”
She nodded and started to turn away, but hesitated and said, “My older brother died in that dungeon years ago. He was also guilty of little or nothing but his beliefs.”
Raymer mounted. Turning his horse to face away from the palace, he looked into her strained face and said, “Don’t let them see your gold coins and do not lie about us. They can easily track us, and you don’t need them punishing you for helping.”
“I know how it’s done. Somebody stole three horses while I slept the afternoon away. Ride fast and far.”
Quint took the lead, with the reins of the horse carrying the Dungeon Master behind. Raymer followed, but when he reached the edge of the forest, he waited in the shadows and watched the farm and the far ridge where they came from. He couldn’t see the palace because of the forest, and there was no sign, and or pain on his back from a nearby dragon. Satisfied, he turned the horse and trotted to catch up.
“Raging Mountains are over that way,” Raymer waved an arm indicating a direction off to their right.
Quint shook his head and nodded in the direction they traveled. “You’re not familiar with this area. Ahead is a canyon, too wide and deep to cross.”
“Then why go there?”
“Because they’ll think we’re trying to trick them. They’ll probably split their troops and send half to the crossing above the canyon and half to the one below.”
“Where will we go?”
“I know a secret way. They’ll protect the two crossings, and then close in from both sides to trap us, but we won’t be there, and they’ll waste a day or two if we’re lucky.”
“If we’re not?”
“We die.”
CHAPTER SIX
The Dungeon Master groaned. It was his first sound since the dungeon collapsed from the weight of the dragon. He still lay across the back of the horse Quint led, but didn’t move or ask to be released.
As they traveled west, the forest of evergreen trees had thinned until only brush grew in the hard packed sand the color of dead skin. Juniper and cactus grew in patches. The sun felt hotter. Raymer’s eyes squinted to see across the barren landscape.
“Are you sure you know where you’re leading us?”
Quint said, “Of course I know. Away from that damned castle and dungeon. Any more than that you want to know? Maybe we should stop and discuss it while sipping tea?”
No, we can’t stop. He’s right. The pace Quint set remained brutal. The Dungeon Master had missed a grueling trek in the dense forests and down the slopes of mountain after mountain. The horses were worn out and needed a break, but they kept urging them on. They crossed a flat area with little vegetation and a lot, of course, brown sand.
Suddenly, the canyon appeared directly in front of them. At first, they couldn’t see the bottom, but as they rode closer, the immense size revealed itself. At the rim of a canyon, both sides that appeared to drop straight down to nowhere Quint paused and gathered landmarks. He pointed to a far off peak, “The Older Sister.” His head turned, and his eyes searched the upper end of the canyon. Finally, he smiled.
“Recognize this place?”
Quint nodded and twisted in his saddle to look behind. It only took a short time before he said, “When you know three points you can tell where you are.”
Raymer swung a leg over the horse and felt the stiffness had already set in. He hadn’t ridden in more than a year and despite his self-training in his cell, he would pay dearly for today’s ride. His hand went to the back of his neck and heat from the sun on his white skin told him it wouldn’t be the only pain he’d suffer.