I prayed for a man like you. Someone to appear and rescue me from all of this. But I never dreamed someone as great as you would arrive. Every prayer I have ever had has been answered in you, and I shall spend the rest of my life in your devotion.”
They kissed again, and as twilight rose, they lay down on the grass, kissing in each other’s arms. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Erec felt as if everything were right in the world.
*
Erec woke at the crack of dawn, sensing something was off. He looked all around, alert. He still held Alistair in his arms, as he had all night long, and could see the content smile on her face. He felt deeply relaxed having her with him. The trees were still, the lake gentle, and all he could hear was the sound of the first birds beginning to wake.
Yet still, the warrior instinct within Erec told him that something was wrong.
He jumped to his feet, threw on his chainmail, and walked over to Warkfin, who he could see was prancing just the slightest bit, his ears moving back. Warkfin sensed it, too: something was off.
As Erec stood there, he began to feel the slightest tremor in the earth, and he knew something was happening. He quickly hurried over and roused Alistair.
“What is it, my Lord?” she asked, waking with concern in her eyes.
“I do not know,” he responded. “But we must move quickly.”
He picked her up and mounted her on the back of the horse, then jumped up himself, mounted on the front, and kicked it.
They rode down the forest trail, to the top of a small hill, where he had an advantageous lookout over the hills below. As they reached the top he stopped, and was shocked by what he saw.
Hundreds of men in armor rode in his direction, wearing the distinctive shiny green armor of that Lord from Baluster. They had followed his trail. They were not letting it go: they wanted vengeance. This Lord was even more powerful than Erec had thought: even in death, his men would not let it go.
Erec realized in an instant that he had a war on his hands.
He dismounted, turned and looked up at Alistair.
“Listen to me carefully,” he instructed, intense. “You must ride far away from here, before this army arrives. Take the path through the forest, and stay north. It will bring you to Savaria. Seek out the Duke and my old friend Brandy. They will take care of you. You will be safe there.”
She sat there on the prancing horse and looked down at him with terror.
“But what of you, my Lord?” she asked.
“I must stay here and confront this army,” he said.
Her eyes opened wide in panic, as she looked from Erec to the horizon and back again.
“But my Lord, you are terribly outnumbered,” she said. “You cannot survive!”
He shook his head grimly.
“Whether I survive or not makes little difference,” he said. “What matters is that you survive. If they kill me here, today, they may be satisfied and turn back; and if you are safe within the gates of Savaria, they will not pursue you. But if you stay here with me, you will die—or worse, be captured. If I die, I will die content knowing that you are safe.”
She looked down at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“My Lord, please don’t do this!” she pleaded. “Why can we not flee together?”
Erec shook his head.
“I swore an oath of honor,” he said. “As a member of The Silver, honor is my badge. I can never run, from any foe, for any reason. I am sorry, but my honor obligates me.”
He came close to her, his heart breaking to see her distress.
“Know how much I love you,” he urged. “Now go!” he called out, and slapped Warkfine hard, startling him and forcing him to take off, Alistair hanging onto the reins, but looking back over her shoulder, weeping.
“MY LORD!” she screamed.
Warkfin was well-trained, and he knew what Erec wanted, and he knew he would not stop until he took her far from here, to the Duke’s Palace. Erec felt a sense of ease watching her ride off, knowing she would be far from the battle.
Erec turned, looked back out over the hill, and surveyed the army, getting closer and closer. The rumble could be heard even from here, and he steeled himself for battle.
He drew his sword, the clang