enemy troops start to pull away, leaving an exhausted Finarthian force standing amongst the dead. Dagrinal and Graggis pushed their way through the tired soldiers.
“The prince, where is the prince!” yelled Dagrinal. The exhausted soldiers could barely stand up, but they immediately began searching for their prince. The men parted as Dagrinal and Graggis quickly moved through the ranks, looking for some sign of Prince Baylin amongst the living, or the dead.
Graggis found the body of the boy that had saved him. His face and upper body were crushed and his neck was unnaturally twisted. Graggis knelt by the boy and gently closed his eyes. “You’re a brave boy, and I count myself lucky to have fought next to you. I look forward to buying you a drink in Ulren’s great hall.” Graggis shook his head sadly before he stood up and looked up the hill towards the retreating enemy forces.
“It looks like they are retreating for the day,” Graggis said.
“I think I know why,” replied Dagrinal softly. He held up a weapon for Graggis to see. In his hands was Prince Baylin’s axe. “I found it over there,” Dagrinal continued, indicating to his right, “but there was no sign of his body.”
“You think he was captured?”
“That would be my guess. The absence of a body means that he is not dead on the field. And if they captured him then they must want him alive, at least for now,” added Dagrinal as he grabbed a nearby soldier. The warrior was tired and covered in blood, but other than that he was not injured. “What is your name?” asked Dagrinal.
“Fulren, sir.”
“Fulren, find third lance Lathrin and inform him that Prince Baylin is missing. Have him search the nearby area.”
The man’s face reflected his shock at the grim news, but his posture straightened as the importance of the mission infused him with new energy.
“Yes, sir! Right away!” The warrior sprinted away, searching the ranks for Lathrin.
Graggis grabbed Dagrinal hard on the arm. “Dagrinal, if he is captured…” Graggis did not finish the statement. “We must get him back. There is no telling what they will do to him.”
“I know, my friend, I know.”
Just then two horses galloped toward them. It was Jonas and Taleen. Jonas was tired but Taleen had healed him completely. Even the hole in his armor was gone. They were both covered in blood, luckily only a small amount of it was their own.
“Why are they retreating?” asked Jonas.
Both men gazed at the horse with open admiration.
“I don’t know, but I’m glad to see it happening,” Graggis replied. “Well met, Jonas. It is good to see you so well.”
“And you, Graggis. This is Taleen, cavalier to Bandris.” Taleen nodded her head in greeting.
“Taleen, I shall thank Bandris for your sword,” Dagrinal said smoothly, quickly redirecting his gaze to Jonas. “Jonas, the prince has not been found, and his weapon was lying among the dead.”
Jonas sat back in his saddle at the distressing news. Prince Baylin had done a lot for him and he respected the man immensely. The news made him sick, the thought of what the enemy might do to him if he were captured caused his stomach to churn with anxiety. He clenched his teeth in anger.
“Then let us withhold the pleasantries and find him.”
The large tent of the king had been set up in a lightly forested glen far enough from the battlefield to be secure, but close enough that the progress of the battle could be relayed quickly to the king and other commanders whose job was more logistical than physical. The king’s tent was made up of heavy red cloth held up by long straight pine trees. It stood out from the rest of the encampment and it was surrounded by the king’s personal guard. Four burly soldiers holding halberds stood before the entrance. They moved aside quickly as they saw Dagrinal, Graggis, and the two cavaliers move briskly toward them.
The spacious tent was empty except for a huge table in the middle surrounded by ten heavy wood chairs, and the king’s sleeping furs that were stacked up in the corner on a large mattress of goose feathers. King Gavinsteal sat on the edge of his bed while a priest of Ulren removed the bandage on his head. The king’s wound had disappeared, the priest obviously having done his job. The king looked up as they approached.
“My King, how are you feeling?” asked Dagrinal with concern.