Chapter 28

I could only stand there, mouth open, stunned at what he'd just said and done. He had betrayed us. Betrayed me. I couldn't believe it—and yet everything started to fall into place.

How long had he been working for Lord Zon?

A long time, a little voice inside me said.

He must have been the one who let the assassin into my room in Juniper. And he must have been the one who betrayed the location of the first Pattern to King Uthor… All along, he had been working with both sets of our enemies.

A low upswell of voices began around me.

“Quiet!” I shouted. “We must—”

The muttering grew louder. Steel glinted and flashed as Uthor's men drew their weapons. I realized with a certainty I'd never felt before that they intended to have my head—along with my brother's. Only he'd had the sense to flee.

Trumpets sounded… not low, mournful notes as befitted a king's passing, but the sharp tat-tat, tat-tat of an alarm. Men began to shout and run for weapons. Uthor's men paused, looking around with mounting concern.

“Attack! Attack!” came the cries of sentries. “To arms!”

Someone screamed, “Watch for arrows!” as missiles started to rain down in our midst.

I seized the nearest shield from beside King Uthor's throne and raised it against the attack. A heartbeat later, two arrows pierced its thick hide with sounds like the savage thump-thump of a war-drum, their cruelly barbed tips coming to a halt less than an finger's width from my nose and right eye. Two of Uthor's lieutenants weren't so lucky—one caught an arrow in the eye, the other to his neck and chest. Both died instantly.

A distant voice shouted, “It's Swayvil! He's attacking! Swayvil is!” and a brief scream followed.

Forgetting me for the moment, Uthor's lieutenants ran to mount their defenses. They called orders, trying to rally their camp's defense. More arrows fell.

I glanced at Haetor and Aslom, who watched the skies warily and stayed as close to me as possible. They had their swords drawn and looked ready to defend themselves.

We had to get out of here fast. No matter who won the coming battle, I knew my men and I would not be welcome here.

“Find shields and follow me,” I said to them in a quiet voice.

As I jogged I pulled out my Trumps and found Conner's. I tried to contact him, but couldn't—either the magic had been blocked or, more likely, he was too busy fighting for his life to chat right now.

Turning, I headed north. I'd try to make it to our camp before Uthor's men organized and came after us.

The initial volleys of shots ended, and I heard the sound of war-cries and steel ringing on steel from somewhere behind us. The battle had started.

I cast my shield aside. Fortunately, everyone around us seemed to be rushing toward the fighting. Word of King Uthor's death had not yet spread through camp, and no one seemed the least bit interested in stopping us or asking questions.

I glanced over my shoulder. Haetor and Aslom were having no trouble keeping up. We headed as rapidly as possible down the rows of tents. Horned men, men with tails, and things that could never have been men ran and scurried and flapped and flew this way and that, shouting questions and conflicting orders, trying to marshal troops and mount a defense. No one seemed to be in charge.

“Where to, Oberon?” Aslom asked, pacing beside me.

“To rejoin our army,” I said grimly. “Hopefully they will still be there.”

A second volley of arrows rained from the sky, and several of Uthor's officers fell. I recognized Nox among the wounded. I hesitated a moment. He might prove useful later. I'd need a liaison to Uthor's troops, if any of them lived through the coming battle… perhaps some could be persuaded to join our forces.

“Get Nox!” I said suddenly.

Haetor looked started. “Oberon—”

“I have plans for him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shaking his head, keeping his shield up with his left arm, he and Aslom ran over to Nox, grabbed his arms, and lifted him. Between them, they supported him enough to get him moving again.

Picking up another shield, I led the way through the camp. Men and hell-creatures ran pell-mell through the mazes of tents. More arrows fell. My shield caught another, and one more grazed by thigh. Uthor's troops continued to run around in a panic, throwing on armor and grabbing weapons. Uthor's sentries had failed… we had all been caught by surprise. Damn Aber!

I made it through the rear line of tents and scrambled up the side of the valley. Uthor's men had made plenty of trails, so the going was easy. At the top, I saw an open stretch of land, and then the place where my own men had been sent to make camp. The forces from Ceyoldar had formed battle lines with shields raised, but were holding ranks. Conner, with the cavalry, ranged behind them shouting orders. I saw a few arrows lodged in shields, but apparently they had not yet come under direct attack.

“Run across as fast as you can,” I said to them. “Keep low. Get Nox to a company doctor, and post guards over him. Then report back to me.”

“Are we joining the battle?” Aslom asked.

“Not yet.”

He nodded, then motioning to his son, together they lifted Nox and bore him off toward the lines.

I took a deep breath and raced past them, legs pounding, moving as fast as I could.

“Open ranks!” sentries shouted.

A few arrows whizzed past me, but none hit. Several footmen with shields moved back, and I made it into their protective ranks. Aslom and Haetor followed a moment later.

Conner came racing up. “What happened?” he demanded, swinging down from his horse.

“It was Aber—he showed up and murdered King Uthor,” I said grimly.

“What!” He stared at me. “Impossible!”

I shook my head. “No. It was him. He did it. He's working for Lord Zon.”

“Take my horse,” he said. “I'll get another.”

Quickly I swung up into the saddle and took the reins.

“What orders?” he asked. “Do we stay? Do we fight?”

“No,” I said. “Uthor's forces are finished. They won't follow me now—Aber has seen to that.”

“So it's back to Amber,” he said.

“Yes.”

Turning, he shouted, “Sound ranks!” to the bugler.

Instantly the ta-ta-tat sounded out. Men scrambled to form lines, shields up, arms at the ready.

“Withdraw!” I shouted. “Prepare to march!”

Before I could say another word, sentries shouted, “Arrows!”

“Watch out!” I bellowed.

I threw my shield over my head as a rain of black missiles fell among us. A few men fell with sharp cries of agony, but most had shields up in time. The barrage did little damage.

“Pikemen to the fore!” I shouted, wheeling my horse. “Cavalry—prepare to ride ahead!”

Haetor came running. “Lord Nox is dead, sir!” he announced.

“Damn the luck. We'll probably be blamed for that, too.” Nothing could be done about it now, though. I hesitated a second, trying to figure the best course of action. “Take a squad of cavalry and find out where the arrows are coming from. We have to leave now or we'll be picked off one by one.”

“Yes, sir!” Saluting, he ran, calling for half a dozen men to join him. Hopefully it wouldn't be a suicide mission.

“Marching lines!” I shouted again. The pikemen and spearmen began to assemble, shields still raised over their heads. “Leave the tents and anything not easily carried! Abandon camp!”

I glanced around for Conner, but he was three hundred yards away. Instead of shouting, I pulled out his Trump. This time he answered immediately.

“How about those special troops you promised me back in Amber? We aren't going to make it out of here without help.”

He smiled a wicked smile. “I know just the one.”

“One what? Battalion?”

“No. One who agreed. He should be all you need.”