concern.
Following behind her, Keane cursed as a thorny branch slashed back across his face. 'And getting more tangled with every step!' he added sourly.
The two of them pressed forward, ahead of the main body of troops. They had been forced to leave their horses some distance behind but continued to explore in the hope that the ground would open up.
Abruptly Alicia stumbled, a loud sucking noise following her foot from the ground. She grasped a tree trunk for balance as Keane saw that she stood ankle deep in brown muck. Flies buzzed around them, and the air pressed close and humid.
'Help!' cried the princess, suddenly in real distress as her feet continued to sink.
Keane reached for her hand and pulled, but it took all of his strength to break the princess free of the clutching mire. Finally he jerked backward and Alicia came free, falling into his arms as he collapsed against the rough bark of a tree trunk.
Exhausted, he held her, and she was content to lie in his arms as they gradually caught their breath. Finally, in a regretful moment for Keane, she sat up and brushed the hair back from her face before she looked at her mud- stained boots.
'Thanks,' she said, squeezing his hand. 'That stuff surprised me.' His heart swelled, and he wanted the moment to last forever.
'Let's rest a bit,' Keane urged gently. I want to be here alone with you! his mind whispered. It was a selfish reason, but the mage told himself that the princess really did look exhausted.
'Yes. It's nice to sit still for a moment,' she agreed softly.
She looked at him, and her deep, bright eyes filled his vision and his heart. Again he felt the urge to take her into his arms, to cover her mouth with kisses, but his innate reserve would not weaken enough for him to act.
And then, in the next instant, her thoughts had turned back to the men under her command. 'It doesn't seem that we can go any farther this way,' she said. 'We'll have to chance the course to the east.'
Keane nodded, reluctantly turning to practical matters. 'I think you're right, though it surprises me to find this much of a swamp here. Are you sure eastward is the course you want to follow?'
'Father must have encountered this morass too,' Alicia continued. 'If we halt the men here and explore to either side, we'll probably lose a whole day!'
Keane nodded. Even if he used magic-a spell of flying, for example, to carry him birdlike over the tangled fen-he would need the remaining hours of daylight to complete a moderately thorough reconnaissance. Those would be precious hours when the men of Corwell would not be marching. He well understood Alicia's desire to keep moving. The welfare of King Kendrick had become a growing concern to the magic-user as well. Privately he grew increasingly concerned that they hadn't come upon any sign of the king's passage. It was a fact that did not bode well for their chances of eventually finding Tristan, the mage suspected.
'So all I can do is try to guess at his track,' Alicia concluded. 'Codscove must lie to the east of here, and that seems like the most logical place for him to go!'
They followed the tangled trail back to the main body of the troops. There, the Exalted Inquisitor, still clad in his immaculate white robe, greeted them with expressions of concern.
'This place looks dangerous,' he said, clucking in reproval. 'I was just about to come after you!'
'That wasn't necessary or called for!' Alicia snapped, discouraged enough to dispense with the niceties of diplomatic language.
'Forgive my overindulgent concern,' the inquisitor apologized solicitously.
'We've got a problem,' Keane interjected. 'This swamp blocks our path to the north.'
'So we're angling to the east,' Alicia concluded. Stalking past the cleric, she went up to Sands and Parsallas, who had been lounging in the shade of a wide oak. The two sergeants quickly got to their feet when they saw her approaching.
'How are the rations?' Alicia asked Sands, who'd served as unofficial quartermaster.
'Enough for a couple days yet, Your Highness,' replied the bowlegged veteran.
'Aye, a few more fine meals of beans and dry bread!' added Parsallas with a hearty chuckle. The lanky warrior seemed to remain cheerful about whatever irritating setbacks they encountered.
'We've got to start up in five minutes,' she said quickly. 'I'll lead the way. We need to find a path around this swamp.'
Each of the sergeants saluted smartly and proceeded to gather the troops into column. They started to march exactly a minute earlier than Alicia had ordered.
Mounted upon Brittany, the princess scouted ahead for the best path through the tangle of underbrush. Keane rode behind her, not wanting to slow her up with his own clumsy horsemanship but ensuring that she remained within sight so that he could reach her side in seconds if need be.
Soon Brittany broke through a tangle of vines onto a narrow game trail, and Alicia guided the eager mare along the relatively straight pathway. Keane followed, and then came Sands leading the first company of Corwell. The spirits and step of the men picked up noticeably now that they had a trail to follow.
Keane prodded his old gelding into a trot, and the nag hastened to catch up to Brittany and the princess. Behind him, he heard the approach of other hooves and turned to see the Exalted Inquisitor also riding ahead of the footmen. It seemed that the open trail had infused them all with energy and enthusiasm.
Then Alicia reined in, uttering a crude sailor's curse. Keane galloped to her side, though he recognized frustration, not danger, in her tone. In another moment, he saw why.
The trail suddenly dropped away, dipping into a pool of fetid water and disappearing. All around them here, to the front and to both sides, stretched a seemingly endless expanse of rank swamp.
Sir Koll was a large knight, broad in the shoulders and the waist. Though he was probably twice the Prince of Gnarhelm's age, Brandon found in him a kindred warrior spirit. He was surprised to learn, however, that the knight's parents had been people of the north, originally settling upon Gwynneth after a successful raiding voyage. Only when Koll had been knighted by High King Kendrick had he fully adopted the manners and customs of the Ffolk.
'Lately, of course, there hasn't been much need for my sword,' explained the hearty warrior. His horse had been slain in the final moments of battle. Now he walked along at a steady pace, accompanying Brandon and some two dozen men-at-arms, both northmen and Ffolk, as a rear guard for the fleeing townspeople of Codscove. 'But I'm glad I had the sense to keep the thing sharpened!'
'I've had plenty of need for my ship,' Brandon countered glumly. 'You'd think I would have learned to keep a better watch on her.'
'I'm the fool who lost her for you!' Knaff interrupted dejectedly. The helmsman bore the responsibility for the capture heavily. His shoulders slumped, and his footsteps were more of a shuffle than a march.
'No, old friend. Stop beating yourself with that!' Brandon countered, clapping Knaff on the shoulder. 'The responsibility is mine. I came in to shore without scouting, without even considering the possibilities. The blame is mine.'
'Pah-bad luck! Could happen to anyone,' Koll allowed. 'And, besides, we'll get her back!'
The prince wished he could share his companion's enthusiasm, but his current prospects looked less than ideal.
They had spent the afternoon after their defeat in steady flight, attempting to put as much space between themselves and the monstrous invaders as possible. Now, another day later, the women and children had been given time to find shelter in the secluded grottoes and groves of the woodlands. There they would await news.
The warriors, meanwhile, had debated what they should do. Most of the townsmen had no interest in trying to fight the monsters again. After all, they had already lost their property and many of their neighbors or kin, so unless their families' lives were at stake, they didn't see the point of suffering more death and injury.
With a few exceptions, such as Koll, the men of Codscove seemed all too willing to march to the next sizable cantrev, seeing if they could lure the humanoid horde into a long pursuit and then a fight on different ground than their own.
The northmen, and Brandon in particular, had no interest in moving too far from the place where the Princess of Moonshae had been captured. It was true that they had no assurances that the ship remained in Codsbay. The trolls had chased them several miles from the village after the battle, preventing any attempts to spy on the harbor.
