...
Ty paused in darkness of a tree and waited until the clump of horsemen had passed. First the Weapons, then the guards, now the Light Horse? He frowned, his eyes flickering across the field to where Karigan stood near the stables. She met his gaze. Be careful, she mouthed. He gave a brisk nod. "Ready, sir?" he asked the man sharing his horse.
"Yes," was the low reply. Ty felt arms tighten around his waist and he took a steadying breath. Carrying a dangerous message was one thing, but carrying one of the most important lives in all of Sacoridia? He took another breath.
Riding into Sacor City was like running barefoot through thorns. Sacoridian soldiers patrolled every street and alley. A few other Riders had already tried to get through, but to no avail. Tegan somehow managed to reach the gate, until she was dragged back to the castle by the battalion that stood guard there. And Connly….
There was no opportunity for secrecy. Tegan told them that the gate was left open for their own horse patrols. Perfect. Ty absently curled his fingers in Crane's wiry hair. His horse was the fastest. At this point, he was the only one that stood a chance. He clenched his jaw. He would make it.
"Here we go."
He applied his spurs and Crane shot forward. The horse's gait jolted and rocked until he grew accustomed to the weight of two riders, after which his lope was smooth as butter. Ty prayed the delay wouldn't cost.
They raced past the guardhouses, beneath the portcullis, and over the drawbridge. He listened – silence from the guardhouses. The soldiers were either scouring the castle or infesting the city.
Thank the gods.
They fairly flew down the hill. As Crane's iron hooves clattered onto the Winding Way, Ty half expected to be tackled straight out of his saddle. It had been Karigan's idea to use the main thoroughfare. "They'll anticipate that the king will try to sneak past them," she had explained, "and they will waste their efforts in the alleyways. You'll have less opposition on the main road. It will be better for Crane, anyway – a straight shot at the gate."
'Straight' was applied loosely here. The road wasn't called the Winding Way for nothing.
As they rode deeper into the city, Ty allowed the first real glimmer of hope to brighten his face. So far, Karigan's prediction held true. That part of the plan had succeeded. He smiled grimly. Now it was all him. No mistakes here. (Not that he ever made any mistakes. But the stakes seemed a bit higher in this case.)
They rounded a corner and almost collided with a small Light Horse patrol. And it begins, he thought. He deftly guided Crane around them, but he heard their shouts and cries and the sudden increase of hoofbeats as they set to chase him and his vital cargo. He quickly forgot his hope beneath his single-minded determination.
Faster, Crane. Faster!
They raced past another patrol.
"Rider! The king! He has the king!"
"Shut the gate! SHUT THE GATE!"
"They're falling behind," were the hot, whispered words in his ear.
Almost there…almost there….
The gate groaned as it cranked down. Great, gleaming spikes ornamented the bottoms. Ty had a horrid image of being flayed alive.
"Form ranks! Do not let them pass!"
The gate was almost halfway down. A line of soldiers stood before it, bearing angled spears ready to impale. The arms around Ty's waist threatened to break him in half. Crane gave a terrified scream.
Almost…almost….
"Ty - now!"
Ty pulled the reins to the right. Poor Crane's head bucked and jerked and his hooves scrambled as he fought to follow his Rider's directions. For a terrifying moment Ty thought they would tip over, but then Crane, conditioned from his years of racing, swooped a wide right turn and shot down a side road.
"After them!"
"Yes…yes!" the voice crooned jubilantly in his ear.
"We're not done yet," Ty answered, but his pounding heart and shaking hands betrayed not terror, but triumph.
A line of Light Horse riders trotted out of an alley and positioned themselves in the way. Ty pulled the foaming Crane to a halt. He heard clapping metal footsteps behind and knew that they were surrounded.
Just as well.
They were both dragged off the horse, Ty being pulled to the side and his passenger thrust onto the cold cobblestones. A soldier tore off the cloak and the onlookers fell silent.
A sergeant pushed his way to the front. He pointed one gauntleted finger. "That is not the king," he growled.
"I like to think of myself as almost as important," came the arrogant reply. He was rewarded with a smack across the face.
"It was a diversion," someone cried. The sergeant paled.
"The gate! Back to the gate!" he hollered. They turned but could only watch with horrified eyes as two riders, one on a long-legged chestnut and the other on a sleek black stallion ducked beneath the half-closed gate and galloped on to freedom.
Alton D'Yer, his face bleeding and swelling on one side, raised defiant eyes to the sergeant and whispered with barely contained energy, "Long live King Zachary!"