At least one rider was talking and the other had not much choice but to listen. Elric had scarcely paused to draw breath for hours and even Hal’s patience was wearing a little thin. Yet he could hardly be cross. Elric had, after all, saved his life, parrying sword thrusts and blows as best he could as he pulled Hal up behind him instead of fleeing as he must have so badly wanted to do. Both were injured by the time Dargent had begun to gallop aimlessly away from the ambush with the last of the terrified pack animals. They did not see Will being knocked unconscious and by the time Hal fell off, dragging Elric with him, they were several miles from the battle scene and quite alone, deserted even by the loose horses. They had lain overnight in the grass until Hal had felt his legs being pulled and kicked out in response. “Ouch!” came a voice from above and, opening his eyes, he found himself staring at the familiar mop of brown hair. Elric was trying, very inexpertly, to bind a wound in Hal’s leg.
