by K. M. Grant
An endless twenty minutes later, their legs a patchwork of scrapes and tears and their coats dank and steaming, the three horses made it back into the fading light and hauled themselves onto the clifftop. Shihab was sobbing from her double burden and as soon as he could, Kamil leaped off. He discarded his armor and Will at once followed suit. Lightness meant speed and speed was more important than protection. Kamil grabbed Sacramenta’s rope. They could give the horses only a moment of respite. “They’ll send others by the track,” Kamil said tersely. “Quick. We must go.” He vaulted bareback onto the chestnut mare. Ellie, stroking Shihab’s trembling neck, said nothing and Kamil did not look at her. “Ready?” he asked Will.
“Ready.”
But Ellie was not. “How can we trust you?” she burst out, holding Shihab back. “Why should we go where you tell us?”
“I don’t know,” Kamil said to her, “but I know that when they catch up to us we will have more chance of escaping if we are together.”
Ellie did not listen. “Why did you do it, Kamil? Why did you do it?”
“Please, Ellie, we’ve no time.”
“I can never forgive you, Kamil. Never.”
Now Will was pushing her from behind. “Come ON, Ellie.”
Ellie moved off. “Keep close to me, Will,” she begged, and he nodded as they sped away.
The better ground raised the horses’ spirits and soon they were among the trees, galloping along a path that had been cut through for logging carts. It was wide enough for the three horses to travel abreast and Hosanna and Sacramenta flanked Shihab in the middle. Their riders were silent, straining backward to hear sounds of pursuit, but it was difficult to hear anything apart from the flapping of leather; the quick, gasping breath of the horses; and the snapping of twigs. They cantered on for roughly a quarter of a mile and Will was beginning to hope that their pursuers had given up when arrows suddenly showered over them, not from behind but from the side. The Old Man’s followers had found another way into the wood and were hell-bent on cutting them off.
Immediately, Kamil wheeled to the left and the three horses plunged off the path, into untamed forest. It was impossible now to keep together and each horse had to take its chance, tripping over tree roots and weaving underneath low-hanging branches, its rider’s legs snagged by briars and stunted saplings. Ellie’s dress was soon ripped to shreds and she could feel Shihab, hating it all, thinking of refusing to go any farther. Seizing a branch, Ellie had to use it as a switch. Now they did not need to listen, they could clearly hear the Old Man’s men pushing through the forest using the last of the light to follow the trail. Will kept glancing behind him. “We’ll have to stand and fight, Kamil,” he panted.
But Kamil pointed ahead. Will could see nothing except that the ground fell away and disappeared. “A river,” Kamil breathed, crouching low over Sacramenta’s back. The mare’s ears were flat but she never faltered. “We’ll turn upstream and hope it bends out of sight.” An arrow thwacked deep into bark above their heads. At once, Kamil and Will crowded over Ellie. The three horses plunged forward and before another arrow could be loosed had almost fallen over a muddy ridge. The river was not wide and the bed was smoother than they had dared hope. Kamil forced Sacramenta back into a canter. But there was no welcome bend. Once the Old Man’s soldiers themselves reached the water, their quarry would be easily in sight. The only thing that might prevent this was the swallowing shadow of the night. The dark horses might sink into it but not Shihab. Her silver tail would gleam like a beacon through the gloom.
Kamil scanned the banks rising on each side of the water and, just as the pursuers themselves fell into the river, spotted what he was looking for. He did not hesitate. “Ellie!” He spoke quickly. “Ellie, swap horses with me. I can make Shihab go faster. Do it right now. Right now.” Ellie turned just as a second arrow sliced past her shoulder. It did not knock her over but was close enough to tear her skin. Shihab heard the swish and leaped sideways. Ellie felt no pain at first, just a tremendous sense of heaviness, as if her arm were made of lead. She folded over.
Will was beside himself. “Ellie! Oh God help us, Kamil. She can’t do anything now.”
“She must, Will, she must.” Kamil bent forward and said something to Sacramenta in Arabic. The mare flicked up one ear. Kamil prepared himself. “Ellie! Ellie!” he urged. “Remember those beautiful days before we got to Whitby? Pretend we are there again. Ellie! Ellie! Are you listening?” Shihab had her head right down and her legs were dragging. She did not like the dead weight of her rider and she did not like the lap of the water. The only thing keeping her going was Hosanna, hard against her side. Ellie was listing and her arm hung uselessly. Kamil hissed in her ear. “Come ON, Ellie. One last effort. Come ON.” Ellie raised herself a little and Kamil forced her to look into his eyes. They had so little time and they could not afford any mistakes. “Remember our game. Follow exactly what I say. Get rid of the stirrups. Hitch both legs up. Come ON.” He could barely see what Ellie was doing. “Now, get your left leg onto Shihab’s neck, let go of the reins, and, if you can, grab Sacramenta’s mane.” He could see her moving. “Well done, Ellie. Well done.” The horses slowed. Another arrow landed in the water and the men behind were yowling like dogs in anticipation of success. “Hurry, hurry, Kamil,” urged Will. “Oh, Jesus Christ help us!”
Kamil waited no longer. Slipping backward, he seized Ellie. “Push with your left foot NOW and whatever you do, hold on tight, Ellie, just hold on tight.” He gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and yanked her off Shihab, swinging her over so that she ended up in front of him on Sacramenta. As soon as she was steady, he wound her hands into the thick red mane as best he could and let go. With one smooth movement, he slipped off Sacramenta himself and vaulted onto Shihab, catching the mare’s reins just before they flew over her head. It had worked! But there was no time for exultation. “Grab Sacramenta’s lead rope, Will, and turn left in five paces,” Kamil whispered urgently. “There’s a gap in the banking. Trust me. You’ll get up there into the trees and they won’t see you.”
“And you?”
“I’ll keep to the river to give you a bit of a start and then get out farther on.”
“Kamil …”
“Go, Will, go.”
Will did exactly as Kamil ordered. With Ellie clinging to Sacramenta’s neck, both horses scrambled up the bank and disappeared. Kamil waited until he heard the bloodcurdling cry that meant that the Old Man’s men could see Shihab’s silver tail, then he urged the weary mare forward. She did not want to go and once he was sure Will and Ellie had got away, Kamil pushed her no further. The Old Man wanted him, not them, and the Old Man would have him. He felt a fierce joy that at least Will and Ellie would be safe as he deliberately allowed Shihab to slacken. He prayed that they would make it home. He prayed that they would one day forgive him. Then he prayed to Allah that he could meet what was coming like the man Saladin had trained him to be.
16
As soon as they were hidden, Will almost fell off Hosanna. The baying of the men made him terrified for Kamil, but Ellie was his priority now. Her arm was wet with blood and she could not ride much farther. Tripping and cursing, Will led both horses until he found a small clearing. This would have to do. He caught Ellie as she slid to the ground and laid her down as best he could, peering to see how badly she was hurt. He could see almost nothing and panicked when he thought what he might find when the dawn came, his only comfort that everything was suddenly quiet. All their pursuers had vanished. Occasional sudden noises still made him jump but they always turned out to be only owls or vixens. He loosened the horses’ girths, then huddled next to Ellie, trying to stop her shuddering although he couldn’t stop shivering himself. She kept whispering words that Will could not catch. “I’m here, Ellie,” was all he could say, “I’m here.” He kept his eyes open, for whenever he closed them he had terrible visions of Ellie dead and Kamil’s body being torn apart. It was the longest night of his life.
Will was still staring when he heard Ellie call his name. He ran to her at once. She was pale as a ghost but at least she was not delirious. He sank down on his knees and took her hand. “What’s happened to me?” she asked.
“You were hit by an arrow.”
“Is it bad?”
“I don’t know,” Will told her truthfully. “It was so dark. But at least you can speak to me, Ellie. Thank God for that. Can you move your fingers?” He would not tell her about Shihab.
Ellie shifted slightly and grimaced but she moved her fingers without difficulty. “That’s a good sign, Will.” Her voice was weak. “I am trying to remember,” she said, “but I’m so thirsty, and the horses must be, too.”
“I daren’t go back to the river,” Will told her. “I’ll find a ditch.”
Keeping Shihab’s bloody side away from Ellie, Will took the horses. It was not hard to find what he was looking for and all three animals surged forward and drank gratefully. Hosanna and Sacramenta never raised their heads until they were finished, but Shihab snatched a mouthful or two at a time, her flanks quaking and her nostrils flaring. Will tried not to think of the horrors she must have seen. Quickly, he rinsed the blood from her side. He could feel guilt creeping up on him. He should never have let Kamil go off alone. Harder and harder he splashed Shihab’s side as if he could wash away the terrible tide of self-reproach. Yet what else could he have done? He wanted to shout Kamil’s name, to shout it over and over. But he knew he must remain silent.
Instead, as the horses drank, he tried to think. The Old Man would have learned by now that he and Ellie had escaped and Will could not know whether they would still be included in his revenge. Maybe getting Kamil was enough, maybe not. But Will knew, with overriding certainty, where he would go now. He would go to Richard. He needed to see the king, not only because Will felt the king to be the nearest thing he had to a father, but also because, just as Marissa had also worked out, he knew what would happen if he did not. Few would sympathize with Will over the loss of the ransom. Instead they would whisper that the loss was too convenient and that, in all probability, at least some of the silver was even at this moment somehow making its way back to the Hartslove coffers. The word traitor would be used. In many ways it was unimaginable to Will that Richard might believe that one of his most faithful supporters would sell his loyalty for money, but Will also knew that in troubled times people tended to believe whatever they were told. If Ellie could travel, they would head straight for the imperial court. If Ellie could not, he must find somewhere safe to leave her, then go himself.
He half carried her to the ditch and helped her to drink, then bound up her wound with Hosanna’s saddlecloth and a leather thong. There was no way of knowing if gangrene would come. The thought sat like a toad at the bottom of his stomach and he knew it would be the same for Ellie.
“Do you think you can ride?” he asked, desperate to move away from this awful place.
“I can try.”
He took Shihab’s saddle and put it on Sacramenta, feeling more confident of the red mare than of the silver. Shihab immediately lay down and rolled. Ellie frowned. “Where is Kamil?” she asked.
Will, busy with the bridles, braced himself.
Ellie asked him again. “Should we wait for Kamil?”
“Kamil’s not coming with us,” Will said shortly.
“Not coming with us? Has he abandoned us? Where’s he gone?”
Will secured the girth.
“What is it?” Ellie’s voice was worried, then bitter. “Did he just go off in the night?”
“Don’t you remember?” Will could stand no more.
“I remember he betrayed us.”
“He thought he was helping his own people.”
“But we were his people!”
“We weren’t, Ellie,” said Will. “You don’t know, but when we were on crusade Kamil once told me that we could never truly be friends because our worlds were too different. Now I know what he meant. He loves us but in the end he had to choose. You must forgive him, Ellie, or at least try to understand.”
“I can’t forgive.” Ellie’s voice was bleak. “I can’t, Will. All those deaths. All this horror. Hal and Elric—that tournament—”
Will looked at the ground. “Kamil made a mistake in trusting Amal. And we all trusted Amal. Look at what he did for us, with Elric and everything. And look at all those riding tricks he taught you. If it hadn’t been for Amal we would never have got Shihab. If Kamil was taken in, so were we all. Amal poisoned him against us.” Will tried his best.
But Ellie just shook her head. “Well, where’s Kamil now then?” she asked again. Then her face changed. “Was he too ashamed to stay?”
“Ellie …”
Suddenly she was crying all the tears she had not shed since their capture. Everything was jumbled in her mind. She wanted Kamil to be there so that she could beat him with her fists, beat him for betraying them and deserting them. She felt as if he, more than the arrow, had taken a great chip out of her. “He should be here,” she wept, “he could at least have given us that.”
Will stood straight in front of her. He must tell her now. He could not let her go on without knowing. “He did give us something, Ellie,” he said. He did not want to say the words aloud but he had to. “He gave his life for us, Ellie.”
It was as if Will had slapped her. “His life, Will? What do you mean? I thought you said—”
“I said he wasn’t coming with us.”
She sank into the ground, a picture of disbelief, and Will knelt beside her. “He’s dead, Ellie. You were hurt. He made you swap horses, then he carried on riding Shihab up the river. He knew that the men would be able to see her, even in the dark, but that Hosanna and Sacramenta would be invisible. Then Shihab came back this morning. She was alone.” There was a short silence before Will blurted out, “She was covered in blood.” He took Ellie’s hand. She said nothing, only squeezed his fingers like somebody in childbirth biting a stick. They remained like that for some minutes before Will gently extricated himself. “We’ve got to move,” he said. “I’ll help you onto Sacramenta.”
“Did you see his body?” Ellie felt her voice was very far away.
“I didn’t need to.”
“Then maybe—” Ellie tried to say more but Hosanna suddenly threw up his head and they heard the sound of voices. At once, Will put his fingers to his lips and pulled Ellie and the horses deeper into the trees. “Kamil,” Elli murmured, but Will shook his head. One voice was familiar. It was not Kamil’s.
Less than a minute later Amal appeared, together with a couple of soldiers looking this way and that. Now Ellie clutched at Will and fought not to scream for in Amal’s belt, clearly visible, was Kamil’s triangular knife. Ellie could not take her eyes off it. The men drew to a halt and the two soldiers began to talk both at once.
At first Will too was mesmerized by Kamil’s knife, but soon something quite different caught his attention. It was quite a time before he realized what it was. The men were not speaking Arabic as he expected but were still speaking German. It was odd since there was no need to pretend anymore. He leaned cautiously forward, straining his ears to make sure he was not mistaken. No. They were definitely speaking German and they were speaking it as if it was their native language. He drew back, wanting to whisper to Ellie, to see what she made of it, but before he could do anything Shihab stirred. She resented standing still and restlessly swished her tail. At once Will put a hand on her nose, thinking to warn her, but
she shook him off and, as if to spite him, raised her head to grab a few dead leaves from an overhanging branch. The branch pinged down and immediately the soldiers’ eyes sharpened. Dismounting, and with Amal in the vanguard, they inched forward. Shihab sneezed.
“You stupid, stupid horse!” Will was frantic. There was only one thing to do. He smacked her rump and sent her straight out so that she emerged from the thicket like an apparition. Amal yelped and caught her reins as they swung past. The men, chattering noisily, gathered around her, pointing to her back. Where was her saddle? Amal seemed as confused as they were but instead of ordering a search of the clearing began to explain, occasionally punctuating his narrative with actions that would have been comic had not their meaning been so appalling. Though Will, peeping through the undergrowth, could understand very few words, the gist of the old spy’s tale was only too clear. He seemed to be telling how Kamil, struck by several arrows, had fallen and how his throat had been cut with his own knife and then how Shihab, frightened by the crash of the body, had run away. The girth must have come undone, Amal said, when Kamil’s corpse was dragging through the water. To illustrate his story, Amal drew out Kamil’s knife, brandished it about, inspected it and, when the story was over, shook his head a little as if genuinely sorry. That shake of the head, so neat, so economical, was more chilling to Will than any description. It smacked of the truth.
The men soon lost interest in hanging about and after a few more words Amal, with unexpected spring, pulled his skeletal frame onto Shihab’s back. Will expected all the men to ride off together but they did not. Instead, once again Amal drew out Kamil’s knife. Once again he gave that little shake of his head, only this time the name he mentioned was not Kamil’s, but Richard’s. The men nodded. This was something that had clearly been spoken about before. There was a hurried farewell and without any more ado, Amal clapped his heels into Shihab’s sides. For one breathless moment, Will thought the mare was going to turn around and give them away, but although she scowled in her habitual complaint, she obeyed her rider. The soldiers waited until she had vanished, then whipped up their own horses and made their way back to the sea.
