CHAPTER TEN
CYTRA
'I see it!' Karver came bounding back over the hilltop, his inventory of pouches and tools clattering about him. He waved at the bedragled group of knights and escaped slaves and shouted again. 'I can see the city!'
At once, a cheer erupted. Everyone who was strong enough to stand rushed forward, eager to reach the top of the hill and catch their first glimpse of Cytra.
'There it is!'
'And there's the sea!'
'I see it too. We're nearly there!'
Before them spread a rolling sea of grass, billowing in the coastal breeze.
A few miles away, on the very edge of the cliffs, the large town shone in the afternoon sunshine, a warm mix of sandy, earthy hues.
Hughell let a sigh escape, feeling relieved even as the knot of anxiety doubled inside his stomach. These people knew that a welcome awaited them, but he had no such guarantee.
Nadoli spoke quickly to one of the other knights, who nodded and pointed towards the pack horse.
In seconds, Nadoli had pulled the water barrels from the horse's back. She leaped on, hugging tight with her legs as the pony broke into a stiff-legged gallop. The wind billowed across the dark green skirt and whipped her hair back in a wild spray as they sped away towards the city, towards her brother.
From the crest of the hill, it was downhill or level most of the way.
The litter Hughell was dragging picked up speed, sliding easily over the smooth grasses.
As the distance before them shrunk, his anxiety swelled. Would he be allowed to speak to the Sir Coryth? He needed to so desperately, yet what could he say to the man he had almost killed?
Cytra was a prosperous city. High sandstone walls surrounded it, guarding it from pirates who might seek to take advantage of its wealth.
But a small gate stood open in one side, and a man stood by it, waving them in. A small crowd waited in the courtyard, armed with food, bandages and medicines - and enough water to quench a small army.
'This way, lad.' The litter was torn, gently but firmly from Hughell's grasp.
Someone took him by the elbows and guided him to the edge of the courtyard, away from the chaos.
'Take a seat by this wall here. Are you hungry?' A man bent over him, not seeming to notice that his hands were bound, that Hughell was a prisoner. 'Wait here.' The man disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, holding out a small loaf of bread.
Hughell cradled the warm, fragrant crust in his hands and inhaled deeply, but he did not eat.
'You seem troubled,' the man said.
Surprised that the man had seen into him so clearly, Hughell nodded.
'A man was brought here; Sir Coryth. Please, can you tell me what happened to him?'
The man was silent for a moment.
'Sir Coryth was beyond the help of Arrethtrae when he arrived. A ship has taken him to the Kingdom Across the Sea.'
Hughell hung his head, tears burning in his eyes. He let them come, weeping silently.
When he looked up, the man was gone.
It was time. Summoning the last of his strength, Hughell stood and bent to step through the circle of his arms. In all the confusion, none of these strangers would notice if he borrowed a knife.
A piece of rope landed on Hughell's foot.
He froze, then slowly pulled his hands apart, more of the severed rope falling to the ground. The man must have cut his bonds when he had given him the bread. Stunned, Hughell stepped quickly back up to the wall, holding his hands behind his back as he looked around. Had anyone seen?
His heart skipped a beat; Lady Nadoli was cutting her way across the square, flanked on both sides by soldiers. She stopped several paces off, and Hughell saw fury and grief colliding in her tear-stained face.
'This is the man,' she said. 'Get him out of my sight.'
Hughell stood still and let his head droop down, as though he had given up completely and surrendered to his fate. But just before the guards reached him, he exploded into motion.
There was a shout, an outstretched fist grabbed the sleeve of his tunic; Hughell tore free and was past them, sprinting across the sandy flagstones. He dodged his way across the square and burst out into the narrow alley. Once free, there was no use pretending he was still bound. His hands came apart of their own accord; pumping the air, driving him faster. Flat out around the bend, his eyes peeled for the first open door.
There. That narrow one off to the left, standing slightly ajar. He flew in and pulled the door shut behind him, breathing hard.
The smell of freshly sawn timber filled his lungs. His eyes roved the dark space, looking for the next step.
Suddenly, a flame flared in the dark.
Hughell jolted back.
'I've been waiting for you,' the man from the courtyard said, holding the lantern higher. Hughell stared at his shadowed face, blood pounding his ears. How had the man known he would come this way? He must have left the door open to lure him in.
Outside, the pursuing guards drew nearer. Footsteps thudded in the street. A door banged. He was trapped.
'Follow me,' was all the man said. He turned and all Hughell could see was the shape of his head and broad shoulders, framed by the orange light. Trapped, he obeyed.
The man led Hughell deeper into the shop, where the lantern-light played across a myriad of timber shapes; tables and chairs; a spinning wheel; a little wooden rocking horse.
Through another doorway, up a steep flight of stairs, then out onto a balcony, where a rope dangled over the railing, secured tightly to one of the stone pillars.
The man snuffed out the lantern and placed it on the floor, before swinging himself over the railing and taking the rope in both hands. In the fading sunlight, Hughell saw that he was dressed in travelling clothes, riding boots and a thick woollen cloak.
'Come,' said the man. He began the descent, holding the rope and walking his feet down the wall.
Hughell stepped to the edge and looked down. He was standing right on top of the town wall. From here, the drop seemed to plunge straight into the black water, a hundred feet below.
Hughell's throat tightened, but he clambered over the railing and began to lower himself down, hand-under-hand, exactly as he had seen the other man do it. His arms ached. It had been many days since last he lifted them above his shoulders.
Before the rope ran out, Hughell's feet touched down on solid ground. He found himself on a narrow path, running precariously around the base of the wall.
The man put out a hand to steady Hughell, then turned to make his way along the cliff-top.
Hughell watched every step the man took and tried his utmost to duplicate it. One false move here could send him plunging over the edge.
They reached the corner of the wall and stepped behind it. Here the town cast a shadow over them, hiding them from the sight.
There was a soft neigh and a rustling sound.
Two horses stood tethered to a gorse bush, their large eyes gleaming in the dark. They were saddled and bridled, with saddlebags hanging across their rumps.
The man went to a horse and unbuckled one of the packs. From it he took a travelling cloak, similar to the one he wore, and another pair of boots.
'Put these on,' said the man. 'We must go.'
'Wait.' Hughell made no move to take the clothes.
'Sir, I thank you for all that you have risked thus far, but I can go no further without knowing where it is you are leading me.'
The man adjusted the saddlepacks, his back to Hughell. 'You cannot go back into the city as you are. Wherever you go here they would despise you. You would be hunted down and tried for murder.'
'And found guilty,' Hughell said, and his voice broke as he continued. 'And I know that I am. But from this moment forth I refuse to take another step that will not lead me nearer to the Prince. He is all that I seek now. Sir, will you show me the way?'
The man turned slowly. As he turned the light fell full upon his face and from beneath his cloak he drew forth a sword of such fearsome power and majestic beauty that it could have no equal, in Arrethtrae, nor the Kingdom beyond.
'I am the way,' He said.