Stephen Lawhead - The sword and the flame

“My lord! Oh!” He stopped short and knelt, knowing now what had happened.

Quentin raised his head slowly. His face glistened with tears. “Durwin is dead,” he said softly. “Dead. Toli, I…” His voice trailed off and he clutched the body to him again, his shoulders shaking with the sobs that wracked him.

Toli felt as if his heart had been cut in two. He sat back on his heels and raised his face to the sky, showing pale blue overhead through the trees. In a moment the quiet green glade hummed with a gentle sound as Toli raised the ancient Jher song for the dead.

“Whinoek breafaro Ileani, Pallet semi nessina toea.”

The words were simple, and Quentin understood them. Toli sang, “Father of Life, receive our brother. Grant him peace in your great home.”

To the Jher people, who had no permanent home, roaming the northern forests as they did, Whinoek’s great home to them meant eternal joy and safety and comfort-and peace, which to the gentle Jher was the highest fulfillment.

After a time the song stopped, fading softly away on the air. Quentin lowered the body of the hermit carefully to the ground and, with Toli, arranged the limbs. He brushed a strand of hair away from the broad face of the man he had loved, and kissed the high forehead gently. Then he rose slowly.

“They will curse the day of their birth,” he murmured. “I am going after them.”

“No, let me. I-”

“I am going. Ride to the castle. Bring a bier for him, and take him back. I will join you there when I have found my son.”

“But-” objected Toli. He stood and approached the King.

“That is all,” Quentin cut him off coldly. “You will do as I say. When you have finished, bring a company of knights and come after me if I have not yet returned.”

“What are you going to do, Sire?” Toli was frightened by the look in his master’s eye.

“I am going to bring back the Prince.” With that, he turned away and strode to where Blazer waited patiently. Snatching up the reins, he swung himself into the saddle, then glanced back once more at the body of the hermit on the ground. “Good-bye, old friend,” he said simply, raising a hand slowly in final salute. Then he was gone.

“What can be taking them so long?” wondered Bria aloud. “They should have returned long ago.”

Esme, sitting next to the Queen in the royal pavilion, craned her neck and gazed toward the forest. “I do not see anyone coming. But you know men and their hunting. I would not wonder but that they became caught up in the chase and have forgotten everything else.”

“You are right. I am certain that is what has happened.” She spoke the words, but in her heart she was far from convinced. Bria turned her eyes once more to the costumed mummers performing before her. The bright disguises glittered in the sun, and the two young Princesses giggled at the pantomime, clapping their hands with glee. Bria tried to maintain a show of interest in the performance, but once and again her eyes stole back across the plain toward the forest, watching for the return of Quentin, Durwin, and the others. But she saw no sign of anyone, so at last forced herself to concentrate on the play.

“Look!” Esme whispered urgently. “A rider!” The Queen raised her eyes and looked where Esme was pointing. She could just make out the form of one rider approaching from across the plain.

“Oh! Only one!” An arrow of dread pierced her heart. “Something has happened!”

“We cannot be certain,” Esme said lightly. “Let us wait until we have heard what he has to say. Perhaps it is only a messenger on his way to tell us the King will be late-which we already know.” She laughed, but there was no happiness in her voice.

“Who is it? Can you see?” Bria stood.

“No, not yet.”

They waited. Tension drew taut as a bowstring.

Queen Bria crumpled the front of her gown in her hands as the rider drew closer.

“It is Toli!” cried Esme.

“Yes, I see him now!” Bria stepped down from her chair. “Come. I cannot abide here another moment. Stay here with Chloe,” she told her daughters. “I will return in a moment.”

“I will look after them, my Lady,” answered Chloe.

The two women dashed onto the field, scattering the actors, who parted to let them pass and then continued once more with their performance.

They met Toli at the edge of the festivities. “What is it?” asked the Queen, her intuition already answering the worst.

Toli turned grave eyes on her. He did not look at Esme. Bria felt a thin blade of terror slide under her ribs. “The King-” she whispered. “Not the King.”

Toli took the Queen’s hand. “My Lady, the King is well,” he said softly, searching her eyes, hoping to find further words there.

“Yes, continue,” said Bria. She stared steadily back.

“Durwin is dead.”

“How?” Bria gasped.

“They were set upon by kidnappers in the forest. He died protecting the Prince.”

“And the Prince? He is safe?” said Esme.

“Gone. The Prince has been taken-”

“No!” murmured Bria. The sound of the clattering, noisy din around them faded, and she had the sensation of the world blurring before her as she staggered beneath the force of a killing blow.

“Where is the King?” asked Esme, fighting to keep her voice under control.

“He was with Durwin when I found him. He has gone after the Prince.” He glanced briefly at Esme, as if noticing her for the first time. “I am to fetch a bier and bring Durwin to the castle, then return with a complement of knights to follow the King.”

“We will see to the bier. You must go at once and assemble the knights as the King has ordered. Do not delay.”

Toli hesitated. Those had not been the King’s instructions.

Bria came to herself. “Yes, I agree. You must not waste a moment. Go now.” Bria placed a hand on his arm. “Please hurry.”

Toli still hesitated. “I should have been there,” he said. “I should have never left them alone.”

“No,” said Esme. “There is no time. What is done is done.”

“Go. He will need you with him,” Bria added.

“Very well. You will find Durwin in a glade along the southern trail I will send someone to lead you.” Toli bowed his head and then he was back in the saddle, racing once more for the forest where he would find the knights he sought, for most were taking part in the hunt.

Bria turned to her friend. She tried to speak, but no words would come.

Esme put an arm around her shoulders. “Come. There is much to do. We have work to occupy us while we wait. And we must pray the wait is not long.”

“Yes, we must pray for Quentin and Gerin. They will need our prayers this day.”

TOLI REACHED Pelgrin and struck along the foremost trail leading into the heart of the forest. The hunt had moved deeply into the wood and scattered widely. He would have to keep a sharp eye for signs along the trail, and listen for any sounds of nearby hunters. He came to a place where a small stream trickled among the great trunks of ancient oaks. Along the low banks he saw the imprints of horses’ hooves where several had stopped to drink before pressing on. Without a second thought he leaped across the stream and into the forest after them.

Soon he was rewarded with the blast from a horn. The long, ringing note was sounded from far-off, but the tone lingered in the air and gave Toli all the direction he needed. Alert to the minute signs of the hunters’ passing, Toli followed the party unerringly through the thick, woodsy tangle. Riv charged through the underbrush, head down and ears laid back. The horse, so responsive to his master’s subtlest commands, passed like a glimmering shade between trees and outstretched branches.