The dog gave a wild, pain-filled scream. Its front paws scrabbled frantically, liquid eyes fixed in desperate pleading on its master.
Haplo leapt toward it, but the mud was thick and viscous and scalding hot. Before the Patryn could save it, the animal was sucked down beneath the surface and vanished without a trace.
Jera gasped and hid her face in her husband’s breast. Jonathan, shocked and appalled, glowered at the chancellor. The prince cried out in bitter, angry protest.
Haplo went berserk.
Runes on his body flared into brilliant life, glowing bright blue and crimson red. The vivid light could be seen through his clothing, welling out beneath the fabric of his shirt, showing clearly the runes drawn on his arms. The leather vest he wore hid those on his back and chest, the leather trousers concealed those on his legs, but so powerful were the runes that a glowing halo was beginning to form around him. Silent, grim, Haplo launched himself directly at the cadaver, who—seeing the threat—went for its sword.
Haplo’s lunge carried him to his prey before the captain had its sword halfway clear of the scabbard. But the moment the Patryn’s choking hands touched the cadaver’s chill flesh, white lightning flared and danced crazily around the two of them. Haplo cried out in agony, staggered backward, limbs twitching and writhing convulsively as the charge passed through his body. He slammed up against the side of the carriage. Groaning, he slid down to lie, seemingly unconscious, in the soft ash that covered the road.
An acrid odor of sulfur filled the air. The cadaver continued, unperturbed, the motion of drawing its sword, then looked to the chancellor for orders.
The Lord High Chancellor was staring, wide-eyed, at Haplo, at the glow of the runes that was just beginning to fade from the skin. The minister licked his dry lips.
“Kill him,” was the command.
“What?” Alfred quavered, staring in disbelief. “Kill him? Why?”
“Because,” Jera said softly, laying a restraining hand on Alfred’s arm, “it is far easier to obtain information from a cadaver than a stubborn, living man. Hush, there is nothing you can do!”
“There is something I can do,” Edmund said coldly. “You cannot kill a helpless man! I won’t allow it!” He took a step forward, obviously intent on impeding the cadaver in its grisly task.
The captain never paused, but raised its hand in a commanding gesture. Two of its troops ran to obey. Dead soldiers grasped the prince from behind, pinioning his arms skilfully to his sides. Edmund, outraged, struggled to free himself.
“Just a moment, Captain,” said the chancellor. “Your Highness, is this man with the strange markings on his skin a citizen of Kairn Telest?”
“You know very well he isn’t,” answered Edmund. “He is a stranger. I met him just today, over on the opposite shore. But he has done no harm and has seen a faithful companion meet a barbarous death. You have punished him for his effrontery. Let it go at that!”
“Your Highness,” said the Lord High Chancellor, “you are a fool. Captain, carry out your orders.”
“How can my people … my people commit these terrible crimes?” Alfred babbled wildly, talking to himself, wringing his hands as if he would wring the answers from his own flesh. “If I stood in the midst of the Patryns, then, yes, I could understand. They were the race that was heartless, ambitious, cruel.. .. We .. . we were the balance. The wave correcting itself. White magic to their black. Good for evil. But I see in Haplo … I have seen good in Haplo. . . . And now I see evil in my fellow Sartan. . . . What shall I do? What shall I do?”
His immediate answer was: faint.
“No!” Alfred gasped, fighting against his inherent weakness. Blackness crept over him. ‘Action! Must . . . act. Grab the sword. That’s it. Grab the sword.”
The Sartan flung himself at the captain of the guard.
That was the plan. Unfortunately, the Sartan ended up flinging only part of himself at the captain of the guard. Alfreds upper half went for the sword. His lower half refused to move. He fell flat, landed in a headlong sprawl on top of Haplo.