"Right," Kiram said. "When we reach the High Street Atreau and Morisio will ride for the dock. At the fourth pier you'll find a ship called the Red Witch. It's my brother's ship. Tell them Kiram sent you and he will see that you're safe."
"So we'll be drawing off the riders from the High Street?" Morisio asked.
"They'll have to split their numbers to pursue two parties," Kiram responded.
"I don't like Atreau posing as me." The concern in Javier's voice was obvious to them all.
"Honestly, it'll do your reputation with the ladies some good," Atreau responded with a wan smile, then swung up onto Morisio's light gray stallion. "I want to do it, Javier. I may be in no shape to fight but I can stay on a horse's back even in my sleep. I can be sick on a ship just as well as I can be sick on the road. And this way there will be fewer men after you when you take the city gates."
"I'll make sure he's safe," Morisio added.
They didn't have time to argue, Javier had to know that. He didn't look happy but he exchanged his formal black and silver coat for Atreau's amber one.
"All right." Javier's spoke coolly, his expression hard. "We go into the woods and draw the bishop's men from the front gate. Once they're amidst the trees, we circle back and make for the street."
Suddenly the crashing noise in the distance went silent. The front gate of the Grunito house had fallen.
There were no questions; they simply rode as Javier commanded, racing to reach the wooded cover of the Grunitos' private hunting grounds.
Kiram's pulse surged as the thunder of the horses charging from behind rolled over him. A rider shouted for them to halt and invoked the name of the royal bishop. Javier responded with an obscene gesture and then they all swept into the shadows of the woods.
Only a few yards in, Javier reined Lunaluz off the dirt path and into the thickest trees. Kiram and the rest of the Hellions followed. First Atreau and then Morisio surged past Kiram. The terrifing awareness that he was falling behind gripped him. Branches brushed past his face as he veered between trees. Wild birds startled into flight and still he knew he wasn't riding fast enough. Already he'd lost sight of Javier. Then Nestor swept in beside him.
"I think we've got them all in the woods now!" Nestor shouted over the thunder of horses' hooves.
A glance back assured Kiram that they had. A wall of men in leather armor riding huge warhorses charged down upon them. Sunlight flashed on the naked blades of their swords.
Kiram clenched his reins and despite his fear of falling he urged his mount ahead faster.
Behind him the royal bishop's men fanned out as the density of trees forced them apart. Ahead Kiram glimpsed a white stallion flashing between the dark trunks of the old oaks.
"Right!" Elezar shouted, his eyes on Nestor. Kiram realized that they had to break clear of the bishop's men now and make for the gate.
Kiram turned his mount to the right, demanding all of the horse's speed for the charge out of the woods. Beneath him, Verano responded with more power than Kiram was prepared for. He nearly slipped from his seat as they suddenly catapulted ahead. Branches slapped his arms and legs. His heart hammered in his throat. The dark shadows of trees blurred as Kiram flashed past them.
And then he was in the open, racing across Lady Grunito's gardens, then out past the ruined front gate and into the open street. Javier and Atreau rode nearly abreast. Morisio charged just behind them. Nestor rode only a few feet to Kiram's right and Elezar came up on his left.
Ahead of them all on High Street, twelve mounted soldiers formed a dark, still line in the midst of bustling carts and carriages.
In an instant they charged Javier and Atreau. Men and women on the street cried out. Cart drivers veered out of the way as best they could. The street became a riot and in the wave of panic, Atreau and Morisio both drove their mounts left towards the docks while Javier rode right into the busy road leading to the city gate.
Kiram followed Javier, as did Nestor and Elezar. Glancing back Kiram saw two of the bishop's men light out after Atreau and Morisio but the rest followed Kiram in his pursuit of Javier.
Ahead of him, Kiram could see why so few of the soldiers had mistaken Atreau for Javier. Mounted on Lunaluz, Javier seemed to fly through the crowded street. They soared over a goat cart as if lifted by magic. They veered and bounded through the press of carriages and street vendors like light skipping across a lake. Even terrified as they were, bystanders stared in awe as Javier passed them. No one else could have been the lord of the white hell.
Kiram's own passage was in no way so easy or majestic. Peddlers and beggars seemed to veer out at him. Wine barrels and oxen appeared in the middle of his path. It took all of his concentration to keep Verano from charging straight into a Mirogoth man and his dog.
Kiram could hear the bishop's men gaining ground behind him and suddenly he remembered the race through Zancoda. He'd done this before, he told himself. He could do it again.
But the women up on the balconies of the buildings weren't throwing down flowers but instead emptying chamber pots, and the riders behind Kiram weren't just after some ribbon. The chaos choking the street seemed impossible to navigate.
Then up ahead of him Kiram saw an opening. He charged forward and found a lane that must have opened in Javier's wake. Kiram thought he could see Nestor's and Elezar's brilliant brocade coats shining ahead of him.
Then a tiny form darted out into the road-a little girl, running for her mother across the street. Kiram jerked Verano back and nearly flew off the horse. He dug into his saddle as Verano turned aside and tossed his head. He steeled himself for a blow from the soldiers pursuing him.
But the bishop's men took no pause. They sped past Kiram into the open road. The little girl froze in terror and then fell beneath the soldiers' horses. Her single pathetic cry crushed to silence in a moment.
Kiram jerked his eyes away from the bloody dress and broken limbs. He heard a woman screaming but couldn't bring himself to look at her. The cold, terrible reality of just what these men would do rushed over Kiram.
At Kiram's urging, Verano leapt clear of the child's remains and surged after the bishop's men. One of them bore down on Elezar and a second shot after Nestor. The remaining eight tore after Javier. Kiram only wondered briefly why he had been of no interest to them. The bishop's men were expecting to hunt down well-dressed Cadeleonian noblemen fleeing from a wedding, not some Haldiim boy wearing traveler's leathers. He was nothing to them, just as that child had been.
The clash of blades rang out as one of the bishop's men swung his sword and Elezar parried the blow and then struck back with such force that the other man tumbled from his horse. Kiram glimpsed Elezar's expression then. He looked terrified. Following his glance, Kiram saw why.
The man pursuing Nestor was almost on top of him and Nestor didn't even know it. Elezar rode for his brother, but Ki- ram could see that he wouldn't arrive before the soldier's naked blade drove through Nestor's back.
Kiram's heart felt like it was ripping apart in his chest. Fury and frustration at his own helplessness coursed through him. And then Kiram realized that there was something he could do, must do. The thought terrified him-but not so much as watching his friend die.
He urged Verano ahead and gave him free rein, trusting the horse's training and instincts. In a quick shrug he swung his bow from his shoulder and drew an arrow. Kiram concentrated on the man riding down on Nestor as if he were just another of so many targets Kiram had struck. The chaos of the street, Elezar's wild howls of rage, even his own pounding heartbeat seemed to fade.
He released the arrow. It punched through the man's neck. The rider jerked. Then his sword dropped from his hand and he fell beneath his own horse. Only as the horse whinnied and veered to the side did Nestor see it. His face was ashen as he peered through his gold spectacles.