“Why are you here, Menquist?” Delger asked. 

“I told you, I’m here to set your leg."

Menquist removed the greaves from his shins and fastened two splints against Delger’s broken leg, wrapping a cloth around his ankle.  "We need to leave this place. New Hearth is no more," he said.  "Brace yourself."

Delger screamed as Menquist set the splint for his leg.  His eyes burned and his nose stung from the pain.  He covered his face with his hands and breathed deep breaths through his nose until the burning passed.  Menquist had finished setting the splint and was now removing the rest of his armor. 

"How…how did you get here?" Delger asked. "Did you come by way of the Gildemanse?  The king and his mother, are they safe?”

"I don't know how they are, for we came directly from New Berenhall," Menquist replied.

“Directly…the Iron Mountains, but how?”

“Well you'll have to get this leg better and perhaps one day you can see for yourself."

The sound of hooves were approaching.  "The enemy, they are upon us!" Delger cried.  

"No, they are the Field Riders of Neredun, come to me from King Burulgi’s court,” Menquist said.  "You are removed from the burden of your armor. Help the Captain rise now."

Several boys struggled to help Delger rise to his feet.  

“You’re hurting him, I got it,” Galbrey said as he lifted Delger by his underarms. 

“Galbrey…you’re safe.” He leaned on Galbrey as he watched the blue palfreys return with the braided riders. 

“What do we do now?” Galbrey asked. “Our line has broken.”

The rider that helped him rode forward with several horses in tow.  He had blood splattered on his neck and face.  "I've brought you another steed," he said.  "The Sword approaches.  We have to leave now, Menquist."

“The Sword…they called themselves…Err…Ere…”

“Erehar’s Sword,” Menquist helped him finish. 

"The rest of the men," Delger said.  "There are hundreds of them..."

"Many fell," the rider said, "but many still remain.  They are scattered. As we approached the city we saw a stream of folk leaving. I told the soldiers to join the groups leaving the city.  There is a long line still leaving, and some of my Field Riders are with them.  We came upon some Isnumurti scouts that discovered the refugees.  We prevented the scouts from reporting back."

Delger was helped onto the spare horse.  "We have to join them.  We are fleeing to Caddock.  Let me go die with them."

"Caddock's defenses are porous, and not built for a seige,” Menquist said. “Its walls are as low as New Hearth’s. No, we need to ride to the Gildemanse, to rejoin you with your Winged Spears.  Edmon is there, and he will surely have begun talks with the governors, rallied them to defense."

"Edmon has failed," Delger said.  "The politics of the old world will not risk itself for the Republic.  They will not support our King Padrig, and therefore they will not support me.  It is a shame that it will take the losing of New Hearth for Aredun to realize that both the old world and the new will fall unless we are united.  Edmon's hopes are with the Yghrs.  He has intentions in Banningtown."

"The Yghrs?" Menquist asked.  "So Edmon is invoking the secondary plan. He’s trying to bring a foreign army into Aredun and force the governors into a response.  We are closer to unification than you realize.  Before you is Sarengerel, the Song Lord of the South and prince of Neredun.  And this is Prince Agalric of the Soot, just from the other side of the mountains."

“Your Graces,” Delger said. 

"Do we go to Caddock?" Agalric asked.  

"No, the remaining army from New Hearth will escort the refugees to Caddock," Menquist said.  "Gnonobod does not want the refugees.  He wants New Hearth, and he will not move forward until he has secured the city and every resource in it.  Prince Agalric, you and I will make haste to Banningtown."

"My Field Riders can get you there hastily," Sarengerel said.

"Spend your haste getting Delger to the Gildemanse," Menqust replied.  "He must be joined with the Winged Spears."

“I must return to New Hearth…before it falls,” Delger said. 

“Nonsense!” Menquist cried. “Everyone is leaving the city. You’ve done enough, you’ve helped buy time and saved lives. What’s so important there?”

“I need to save one last life.”

Sarengerel touched Menquist on the arm. “Go, i’preda. I will take him to the city and see him safe.”

Menquist held Sarengerel in return by both arms. “Remember how Menathinion fell. You will be needed here, son of Namsuren. Everything we worked for…this is where we make our stand, in Aredun!”

“May I find you when the rivers of time converge,” Sarengerel replied. 

“Burulgi will come through, one way or another,” Menquist said. “Come, Prince Agalric. You still want to go on an adventure?”

“Oh I’ve been to Banningtown,” Agalric said. “Take me to the Smote and we’ve got a deal.”

Menquist touched Delger’s hand. “Prince Sarengerel will be a great ally. Though he is crown prince of Neredun, he will serve you. Trust him as you would me.”

“I will, Menquist.”

“All of you boys, leave this place now!” Menquist cried as he and Agalric mounted a pair of the blue coated horses and started riding away.

“Menquist…you’re not…leaving me?” Delger asked through his pain, but the words could not be heard. 

Sarengerel held onto Delger before he could fall. “We do not have much time,” he told Galbrey. “Aid him to a horse.”

“His leg, it will cause him agony.”

Sarengerel stripped one of the horses of its saddle and coat. “The sound you hear is thousands of footsteps approaching. That is agony. The Captain is strong. You are lighter than me. You will ride with him.”

They lifted Delger onto the horse, his neck and face contorted through silent screams. When he was able to catch his breath, Galbrey slipped off all of his own armor and climbed on the horse, holding the slumping Delger. 

“Where are we going?” Galbrey asked.

Delger could barely whisper the response into his ear. Galbrey nodded and called on the Neredunians to follow him. Together they made their way back toward the castle, leaving the sound of drums and war chants. Most of the  Aredunian soldiers had already retreated from the battle, and the thousands of Isnumurti were marching behind to claim the city. 

The city gates were wide open. Refugees were still streaming out, many of them trying to maneuver overburdened wagons. Galbrey navigated between an abandoned overturned wagon and a family helping a fainted woman. He turned down a straight path covered with straw. Someone was still ringing the bells from the tower. There were streams of smoke rising from several points of the city.

“What’s burning?” Galbrey asked.

“People are burning their homes…rather than leaving it for the enemy.”

“We are here,” Galbrey said, heading toward the stables that were empty save for a single horse. He helped Delger dismount. 

Delger approached the brown and white painted palfrey, a very common looking horse to the untrained eye. 

“Do my eyes deceive me?” asked one of the Neredunian riders. 

“No they do not, Hananisus,” Sarengerel said. He turned to Delger. “This is an Ala’kete. She is a rare and regal creature. How came you to her?”

Delger patted her on her neck. He looked at his hands, which were stained with the Red Mare’s blood. He signaled for Galbrey to fix a saddle upon her, but she neighed and started rearing. 

“No man can ride an Ala’kete,” Sarengerel said. “They have no masters and only they can choose their riders.”

“I need to bring her from this place,” Delger said. He signaled for Galbrey to try to put the saddle on again, but again she resisted, this time nearly kicking Galbrey in the head if he had not fallen down first. 

Sarengerel slid off his horse and approached the horse. “Give me your hand,” he said. He took his water skin and poured water over Delger’s hand to wash out the Red Mare’s blood. 

The horse watched the blood rinse away. 

“Keep your hand on her neck,” Sarengerel told Delger. She flinched when he tried to touch her.

“She’s seen much war,” Delger said, placing his hand on her strong neck. 

“One cannot treat an Ala’kete like a beast,” Sarengerel said. “You must treat her like a friend.”

The horse calmed down as Sarengerel stroked her nose. When Galbrey tried to put the saddle back on, Sarengerel shook his head. “Ai, Ala’kete…jiner kenbe?” he asked her in a deep voice. “Ter jiner naiz. Ter chemaig unak bolugai. Ala’kete, ter chemaig unak.”

The horse rubbed her cheek onto his palm. Sarengerel took Delger’s clean hand and placed it on the horse’s nose. “Ter jiner naiz, Ala’kete.”

Delger kept his hand on the horse’s nose and the horse licked it. 

“She chooses you as a rider,” Sarengerel said. “Forsake the saddle. She will want to feel her rider, to know you.”

Galbrey helped Delger into the horse. “I’ve never seen that before. What did you say to her?” Galbrey asked. 

“I told her that the Captain is her friend, and that she should let him ride her,” Sarengerel replied. “And I asked for her name.”

“Her name is Khajee,” Delger said. “She was Mazi’s horse. I knew she would not let anyone steal her. She would have remained and when the Isnumurti found out that none of them could ride her, they would have destroyed her. I cannot subscribe her to that fate.”

“We have a common bond with horses,” Sarengerel said. 

They rode through the city, light and fast, led by Khajee, her black and white mane rippling as she sprinted. She stopped abruptly and let out several piercing screams to the sky. When she was done, she put her head down and rode ahead of the others. 

“Is she alright?” Galbrey asked. 

“Khajee is releasing the bond with her former rider,” Sarengerel said. “She’s saying goodbye.”