Legends of the Riftwar Read Free

offered. Gregory had no doubt that the mace at the priest’s belt was not unblooded and that Father Corwin had faced his share of dangers over the years. Besides, Gregory was an experienced judge of men, and while this priest seemed meek at the moment, there was obvious hardness beneath the apparently mild exterior.
    â€˜I wish I’d never left my monastery to come here and help out,’ the priest sighed, finally dropping his gaze. ‘We got lost, brothers Valdin, Sigfried and I. We were making for the camp of Baron Moyet, took a wrong turn on the trail and found ourselves behind the Tsurani lines.’
    â€˜Only Rangers and elves travel these paths without risk of getting lost, Father,’ Gregory offered. ‘These woods are treacherous. It is said that at times the forest itself will hide trails and make new ones to lead the unwary astray.’
    â€˜Brothers Valdin and Sigfried were captured,’ the priest continued, spilling out his story. ‘I escaped. I was off the trail, relieving myself, when the Tsurani patrol took them. I ran in the opposite direction after my brothers were dragged away. I was a coward.’
    The Natalese Ranger shrugged. ‘Some might call it prudence, rather than cowardice. You denied the Tsurani a third prisoner.’
    The priest still appeared unconvinced.
    â€˜There was nothing you could have done for them,’ Gregory added with certainty, ‘except join them as a captive.’
    Corwin seemed slightly more reassured. ‘It was foolish of me to have run, you’ll agree. Had I been more stealthy I’d not have led them to you. When I saw one of your men hiding off the side of the trail, I just naturally went straight to him.’
    Gregory’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well, if he’d been doing a better job of hiding, you wouldn’t have seen him, then, would you?’
    â€˜I didn’t know they–’ he pointed towards the Tsurani corpses littering the field ‘–were right behind me.’
    Gregory nodded.
    What should have been a clean, quick ambush incurring minimal loss had turned into a bloodbath. Eighteen men from the Marauders–nearly a quarter of Dennis’s command–were dead, and six more were seriously wounded. As it was, the engagement had been a Kingdom victory, but at far greater cost than was necessary.
    The priest rambled on, starting his tale yet again. Gregory continued to study him. It was obvious the man was badly shaken. He was poorly dressed, wearing sandals rather than boots. A couple of toes were already showing signs of frostbite. His hands shook slightly, and his voice was near to breaking.
    The priest fell silent, and took a long moment to compose himself. At last, he let out a long sigh, then looked over to Dennis who stood alone, at the edge of the clearing. ‘What is wrong with your commander?’ he asked.
    â€˜His oldest friend is in that grave,’ Gregory said quietly, nodding down at the eighteen bodies lying side by side in the narrow trench hacked out of the freezing ground. ‘Jurgen served Dennis’s grandfather before he served the grandson. The land the Tsurani now occupy, part of it once belonged to Dennis’s family. His father was Squire of Valinar, a servant of Lord Brucal. They lost everything early on in the war. Word of the invasion hadn’t even reached Valinar before the Tsurani. The old Squire and his men didn’t even know who they were fighting when they died. Dennis and Jurgen were among a handful of survivors of the initial assault; Jurgen was his last link to that past.’ Gregory paused, transferring his gaze to Father Corwin. ‘And now that link is gone.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ the priest replied softly, ‘I wish none of this had ever happened.’
    â€˜Well, Father, it happened,’ Gregory said evenly.
    The priest looked up at him, and there was moisture in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he