“Come on,” he muttered to Khollo. “Another village has been attacked, two days’ ride to the southeast.”
“Where are we going?” Khollo asked.
“To investigate,” Janis replied as he descended the ladder. “We’ll stop in Holwey on the way. Find your friends Sermas and Hern and pack for a week-long trip.”
“What . . . why . . . how?” Khollo stuttered.
Janis’ head poked back up through the trap door. “I want to see the ruins and see if I recognize the signs of vertaga from the first war,” he explained. “And I want to search for survivors, so that if the king ever sends someone to investigate, I have a mountain of evidence to ram down his throat. We’ll get an army from him if it’s the last thing I do.”
“I’ll fetch the others,” Khollo said quickly, following Janis down the ladder and pulling the hatch shut.
“Good,” Janis said, already moving down the stairs. “We leave within the hour.”
Khollo sprinted down the stairs, nearly falling multiple times. Once, he came flying around the corner only to narrowly avoid being impaled on a guardsman’s sword. After that encounter, Khollo took things a little slower. When he finally reached the main hall, breakfast was finished and the kitchen staff was busy clearing up the long tables.
“Khollo! Where’ve you been?” Sermas and Hern ran over from where they had been lingering near the hearth. “We thought you’d decided to avoid filling us in on the meeting yesterday. What happened?”
“I’ll fill you in on the way,” Khollo said quickly. “The meeting and . . . other things. Look, right now, you need to pack for a week of rough traveling and get horses from the stables, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
“Pack . . . horses . . . a week?” Sermas spluttered. “What are you blathering about?”
“Khollo, we have trials in just a few days,” Hern said. “To decide whether Wilkes has to keep training us or not.”
Khollo fell silent. He’d quite forgotten about such things as trials and training with Wilkes since he had been thrown out. “Never mind,” he decided. “These are Lord Kurkan’s orders. This could be bigger than trials. Get to the stables.”
“We’re leaving the fortress?” Sermas asked.
“Yes,” Khollo said impatiently.
“But nobody – ”
“Go!” Khollo roared, shoving them towards the door. “I’ll explain everything later.”
Once his two friends were on the move, Khollo quickly raided the kitchen, scooping up some leftover bacon and bread along with hot cider. It would be his last meal of real rations for some time and he decided to make the most of it. By the time he was finished, there was only half an hour until the arranged meeting at the stables. Khollo dashed back up the stairs, crammed blankets, a change of clothes, a water skin, and various other items into his pack. Then, slinging it over one shoulder, he raced back downstairs and filled the pack to the brim with travel rations: dried meat, bread, even a chunk of cheese. This done, he ran to the stables, and when he finally arrived he was bent double, panting, and clutching at a stitch in his side.
“Finally,” Janis called from beside his massive steed, Gray Wind. “Where are those blasted friends of yours?”
As he spoke, the two cadets strode uncertainly into the stable, the expressions on their faces saying they weren’t entirely sure that they should be doing this.
“Find horses,” Janis said curtly. “Stable hand!” he shouted. “We could use some help out here.”
A boy a few years younger than Khollo emerged from the tack room and began helping Sermas and Hern find mounts. Khollo meanwhile transferred everything from his pack to Arle’s saddlebags, then left the pack hanging on the stall gate. He wouldn’t need it for this trip. Arle stood calmly, despite the chaos in the stable, patiently waiting for Khollo to mount up.
Janis was already leading Gray Wind out of the stable, the big horse prancing and high stepping excitedly, sensing his master’s eagerness. Khollo looked to the back of the stable, where Sermas and Hern were struggling to saddle their horses. The stable hand was bouncing back and forth between the two, trying to help, but unable to be in two places at once.
Khollo grinned at the comical sight. “Wait here,” he murmured to Arle, stroking her soft muzzle. Arle snorted in reply, nuzzling his hand. Khollo made his way to the back of the stable, just as one of the horses reared and nearly kicked Sermas in the face.
“Whoa!” Khollo shouted as Sermas cowered against the wall. “Easy there.” He ran a critical eye over the horse, which was now stepping side to side and back and forth, clearly nervous and uncooperative. “Let’s try a different one,” Khollo muttered to himself, moving next door to a piebald gelding that was watching the affair curiously.
Khollo opened the gate and moved in beside the gelding, stroking its mane gently. The horse turned a liquid brown eye on him, and nodded as though in approval.
“Hey now, I’m not the one who needs approving,” Khollo murmured. “Sermas here is the one who needs a horse.”
The piebald fixed its gaze on Sermas, who had started edging into the stall as well. Sermas froze, afraid he’d done something wrong. The gelding snorted and stepped closer to Sermas, butting at him with his head.
Sermas reached out tentatively and rubbed the soft muzzle. The piebald’s ears twitched and it snorted contentedly. Khollo meanwhile began working to saddle Sermas’ new steed, adjusting straps and buckles. In a few minutes, the gelding was ready for travel.
“Put everything in the saddlebags,” Khollo said to Sermas. “You can leave your pack here.”
“How did you get to be so good with horses?” Sermas asked, stunned by the display Khollo had put on.
Khollo shrugged self-consciously. “I’ve
