Distant shouts and a thundering sound made Robinton look back at the dreadful carnage. The fields were being emptied of their runners and these were being herded back to Fax’s beastholds. Groghe must be warned. So must Tarathel and Oterel. There was nothing Robinton and Nip could do here.
They got the best speed possible out of their exhausted mounts on their way to the nearest of Groghe’s border checks, where they roused the startled guards and told them to light the beacons to spread the alarm. Then they changed to fresh mounts and sped back towards Fort Hold. There, while Nip charged up the stairs to the Drum Tower, Robinton banged on Groghe’s door, rousing not only the Lord Holder but the entire corridor.
“Fax has invaded Ruatha Hold,” Robinton said, leaning against the door post to get breath enough to speak. The drums began to roll out their dreadful message. Nip hadn’t lost his touch with a drumstick.
“What?” Groghe stared unbelieving at the MasterHarper. “He can’t have.”
“He has – and killed them all, even the children. I saw their bodies.
I’ve warned your border men. The beacons are lit.”
“Oh, Master Robinton, you look awful,” Groghe’s wife said, guiding the Harper to the nearest chair and sensibly getting him a cup of wine. “You don’t mean to tell me dear Lady Adessa’s dead, as well. Surely—’ She broke off, seeing the answer in the bleakness of his expression. “Oh, how terrible! How simply terrible! You’re right to fear that man, Groghe.”
“I don’t fear him, Benoria, I despise him!” Groghe unbuckled his belt and threaded a hefty dagger on to it before he girded himself again.
“Oh, don’t, don’t, Groghe!” she cried.