the knight in the river. Fountain magic, and it wasn’t attached to the poisoner. For a moment he just stared, immobilized, and watched the rider continue into the river. The other knights began to follow him. The king sat on his horse, staring at the scene without moving. Then the lead Occitanian knight raised a fist, as if making a command.
Ransom gaped in shock as the waters seemed to cease flowing, opening a gap that stretched from one border to the other, creating a path right before the gathered men.
The knight kept his fist raised, and Ransom sensed, preternaturally, that it was Estian himself using some artifact of the Fountain. He and his knights began to ride through the gap, advancing to the other side.
Ransom nearly screamed at the king to ride away, but the king realized the peril. He turned his horse and took off at a gallop toward the gate. The soldiers patrolling the edge of the river came rushing toward the opening en masse to try to prevent the knights from reaching the other side.
“Get my helmet,” he told Dearley with rising passion.
His ward hurried to obey.
The king and his son rode furiously toward the gatehouse. One of the king’s knights turned around, grabbed his lance and shield, and went back to attack the invaders. Ransom watched as he galloped toward the lead knight, who had just reached the other bank. Was it Estian? Now he wasn’t so sure. Although the Occitanian king was unpredictable, he suspected he wouldn’t risk himself by crossing first. The lance shattered as it struck the Occitanian’s shield, but it didn’t unhorse him. His horse clambered up the bank, and suddenly it was on the same side as the castle.
Another one of the king’s knights turned to face their attackers, trying to buy time for the king to escape. He, too, shattered a lance on an enemy and managed to knock him off his horse, but three knights rode forward to challenge him. He tried riding away but was struck from behind by a lance.
“Here!” Dearley said, holding up the helmet.
Ransom put it on, understanding now the source of the prickles of warning he’d been experiencing throughout the night. His senses sharpened as he felt the rush of the waters inside him. Once his helmet was in place, he turned to Dearley.
“Torch the town. Get every building you can blazing. Have the townsfolk flee through the other gates.”
“What about this one?” he asked in concern.
“I’ll hold them off myself,” he said. “I need my horse.”
“You can’t hold it alone!”
Ransom turned back, watching the king approach and seeing a look of horror on his face. Jon-Landon was pale with fear. Behind them came a rush of enemy knights, all determined to catch the king before he made it through the gate.
Every day that passes, every moment spent in suspense, is more terrible than the last. Lord Kinghorn will not relinquish the city unless he is ordered to do so by the Elder King or the king is killed. The latest word we have from Dunmanis is that they are preparing for a siege. Estian’s army has arrived with Benedict’s. I don’t know much about the town, other than that it is south of Glosstyr and a river protects it on the southern side. A siege could last for weeks.
Ransom could be trapped inside the city for a long time. I feel better that he is with the king. How long can they hold until the tide turns or defeat is unavoidable? It’s possible that James will abandon Kingfountain and try to cut off their supplies.
In such times, wisdom is the dearest companion. I wish I could be there amidst the smoke and carnage instead of here. I would have taken a bow and done my best to shoot down enemies.
I see the sun cresting the hills. What will this new dawn bring? Fight hard, beloved. Don’t let them through.
—Claire de Murrow, Duchess of Glosstyr
(restless still)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Fires of Dunmanis
Ransom only had time to mount his destrier and grab a lance. He would have to face the onslaught alone at first, the other soldiers having ridden off to start fires or put on their armor.
He gazed down the street at the king and his small cohort charging for the gate, followed by at least eight knights bearing down on them with lances. There was no way to shut the gate on the enemy now. Ransom saw the look of terror on Jon-Landon’s face as