had long since flooded its low banks and was continuing to rise. Menion had no idea where they stood in relation to Kern, but he realized that if they crossed at the wrong point, they would miss the island entirely. The girl seemed to recognize the problem; taking his arm, she began moving downstream along the low rise, peering across the river into the gloom. Menion let her lead him without question, his own eyes casting about anxiously for some sign of the pursuing Trolls. The rain had begun to slacken and the mist was beginning to clear. It would not be long before the storm would end and visibility return, leaving the two revealed to the persistent hunters. They had to chance a crossing quickly.
Menion did not know how long the young woman led him along the river’s edge, but at last she halted and indicated in hurried gestures a small skiff drawn up against the grassy embankment. Quickly the highlander strapped the sword of Leah to his back, and together the two pushed off into the swift waters of the Mermidon. The river was icy and the shock of the extreme cold from the spray of the foam–tipped waves jarred Menion to the bone. He rowed fiercely across the swift current as it swept them downriver with terrific force, frequently turning them about completely as they fought to reach the other side. It was a wild, careening battle between river and man that seemed to go on endlessly, and at last everything became hazy and numb in Menion’s mind.
What happened in the end was never clear to him. He was vaguely aware of hands reaching to pull him from the skiff to a grassy bank where he collapsed in a breathless stupor. He heard the girl’s soft voice speaking to him, and then there was blackness and numbness all about him as he lapsed into unconsciousness. He drifted in and out of darkness and sleep, plagued by an uneasy sense of danger that prodded at his tired mind and demanded that he rise and stand ready. But his body could not respond, and finally he dropped off into a deep slumber.
When he awoke, it was still light out and the rain was falling in a slow, steady drizzle through deep, gray skies. He lay in the warmth and comfort of a bed, dry and rested, his torn feet cleaned and bandaged, and the terrible race to escape the Northlanders behind him. The slow rain beat peacefully on the paned glass windows that let in the daylight through the wood and stone walls. He glanced idly around the finely furnished chamber; realizing quickly that this was not the home of an average citizen, but of royalty. There were insignia and crests on the woodwork that Menion knew to belong to the kings of Callahorn. For a moment the highlander lay quietly and studied the room in silent leisure, allowing the sleep to disperse and his rested mind to awaken fully. He saw a dry set of clothes lying on a chair near the bed, and was just about to rise to dress when the door opened and an elderly serving woman appeared, carrying a tray of steaming food. Nodding politely and smiling, she hastened to the bed with the tray and deposited it on the highlander’s lap, propping him up with pillows and urging him to eat it all while it was still hot. Strangely, she reminded Menion of his own mother, a kind, fussy woman who had died when he was twelve. The serving lady lingered until he had taken the first bite, then turned away and went out again, closing the door quietly behind her.
Menion ate slowly, savoring the excellent food, feeling the strength return to his body. It occurred to him only after he had finished almost half the meal that he had not eaten for over twenty–four hours — or perhaps it had been longer. He glanced again through the window to the rain beyond, unable to tell if it was even the same day. It might be the following day…
In a flash he recalled his original purpose in coming to Kern — to warn them of the impending invasion by the Northland army. He might already be too late! He was still frozen with the thought, a fork raised halfway to his mouth, when the door opened a second time. It was the young woman he had rescued, refreshed and dry now, dressed in a flowing gown of warm, mixed colors, her long red tresses combed and shining even in the gray light of the rain–clouded day. She was easily the most stunning woman the Prince of Leah had ever encountered. Remembering suddenly the half–raised fork, he lowered it to the tray and smiled in greeting. She closed the door behind her and moved gracefully to his bedside. She was incredibly beautiful, he thought again. Why had she been kidnapped? What would Balinor know about her — what answers could he supply? She stood next to the bedside, looking down at him, studying him with those clear, deep eyes for a moment.
«You look very well, Prince of Leah;” she smiled. «The rest and the food have made you whole again.»
«How did you know who …?»
«Your sword bears the markings of the King of Leah; that much I know. Who else but his son would carry such a weapon? But I don’t know you by name.»
«Menion,” the highlander responded, somewhat surprised at the girl’s knowledge of his little homeland, a kingdom unfamiliar to most outlanders.
The young woman stretched forth a slim bronzed hand to grasp his own in warm greeting and nodded happily.
«I am Shirl Ravenlock, and this is my home, Menion — the island city of Kern. If not for your courage, I should never have seen it again. For that I shall remain eternally grateful and your friend always. Now finish your meal while we talk.»
She seated herself on the bed next to him and motioned for Menion to continue eating. Again he began to raise his fork; then remembering the invasion, he dropped it to the tray with a noisy clatter.
«You’ve got to get word to Tyrsis, to Balinor — the invasion from the Northland has begun! There is an army camped just above Kern waiting to…»
«I know, it’s all right,” Shirl responded quickly, raising her hand to stop him from continuing. «Even in your sleep, you spoke of the danger — you warned us before you passed out entirely. Word has been sent to Tyrsis. Palance Buckhannah rules in his brother’s absence; the King is still very ill. The city of Kern is mobilizing its defenses, but for the moment there is no real danger. The rains have flooded the Mermidon and made any crossing by a large force impossible. We will be safe until help arrives.»
«Balinor should have been in Tyrsis several days ago,” Menion announced with alarm. «What about the Border Legion? Is it fully mobilized?»
The girl looked at him blankly, indicating that she had no idea what the situation was with regard to either the Legion or Balinor. Abruptly, Menion shoved the tray aside and climbed out of bed, an astonished Shirl rising with him, still trying to calm the excited highlander.
«Shirl, you may think that you’re safe on this island, but I can guarantee that time is running out for all of us!» Menion exclaimed, reaching for his clothes. «I’ve seen the size of that army, and no amount of flooding is going to slow it down for long — and you can forget about any help short of a miracle.»
He paused at the second button of his nightshirt, suddenly remembering the young woman with him. He pointed meaningfully to the door, but she shook her head negatively and turned away so she couldn’t see him changing.
«What about your kidnapping?» Menion asked, dressing himself quickly as he studied her slim back across the room. «Do you have any idea why you would be so important to the Northlanders — other than the fact that you’re a beautiful woman?»
He smiled roguishly, a little of the brashness that Flick distrusted returning. Although he could not see her face, the highlander was certain she was blushing furiously. She was silent a moment before speaking.
«I don’t remember exactly what happened,” the answer came at last. «I was asleep. I was awakened by a noise in the room, then someone grabbed me and I blacked out — I think I was struck or… No, I remember now — it was a cloth soaked in some foul liquid that prevented me from breathing. I blacked out and the next thing I remember was lying on the sand near the river — I gather it was the Mermidon. You know how I was tied in that blanket. I couldn’t see anything and could hear only a little — but nothing that I could understand. Did you see anything?»
Menion shook his head and shrugged. «No, nothing much,” he added, remembering that the girl was not looking at him. «One man brought you across in a boat, then turned you over to four Trolls. I couldn’t see the man distinctly, but I might recognize him if I saw him again. How about answering my first question — why would anyone kidnap you? Turn around. I’m dressed now.»
The young woman turned obediently and came over next to him, watching curiously as he pulled on the high hunting boots.
«I’m of royal blood, Menion,” she responded quietly. Menion stopped quickly and looked up at her. He had suspected she was no ordinary citizen of Kern when she had recognized the crest of Leah on his sword. Now perhaps he would discover the reason behind her abduction from the city.
«My ancestors were kings of Kern — and for a while of all Callahorn, before the Buckhannahs came to power about one hundred years ago. I am a… well, I guess you could say I’m a princess — in absentia.» She laughed at the foolishness of the idea, and Menion smiled back. «My father is an elder of the council that governs the internal
