Galdith shrugged. “They had a lot to talk about.”
“And is she back?” asked Idernon, not waiting for an answer and making for Pan’assár outside the command tent.
“Commander. Have you seen Fel’annár?”
“No. Why?”
“Is Amareth inside with the Elders?”
“If you are referring to the councillor, she arrived some time ago.”
“We were supposed to be leaving on a scouting mission. I must speak with her. I don’t like this, commander.”
Pan’assár cocked his head and Idernon entered the tent. “Lord Erthoron,” he nodded, turned and bowed once more to the prince. “Please excuse the interruption. Lady Amareth, have you seen Fel’annár?”
“We parted ways a while ago. He was with Tensári.” She frowned. “He said he was leaving on a scouting mission.”
Idernon’s mind was desperately searching for a reason why Fel’annár would not have returned. “Where did you last see him?”
“I’ll show you.” Amareth rushed past Rinon, Angon, and then she was outside, jogged past The Company and Llyniel. She led them into the trees where she had talked with Fel’annár earlier that morning. Not twenty paces away, they saw Tensári, struggling to stand.
Idernon and the rest sprinted towards her, but there was no sign of Fel’annár. He watched Sontúr help Tensári stand and check her eyes. Then he turned to a wide-eyed Amareth as she spoke. “It’s not possible. There are guards everywhere …”
“They used a toxin,” began Sontúr.
“Some … something stuck in … in my throat …”
Sontúr peered at her neck, reached out with one hand. “Stay still.” He pulled out a splinter, and then another. By the time he had finished, there were six black thorns in his hand. “What the …?”
“Dream Vine,” said Llyniel. “If you step on the whole thing, your heart stops within minutes. But just one of those thorns is enough to render you unconscious and delirious for hours.” Llyniel was staring at the splinters, gaze moving up to Tensári’s foggy eyes. “You should be dead.”
“How long ago did this happen?” asked Galadan, handing his water flask to Tensári, watching as she drank.
Amareth stepped forwards. “Half an hour, perhaps. Gods, after all this time, just when he is guarded the most … Wait. I passed Farón on the way back to camp. How could he not have seen …?”
“Farón,” said Idernon, lip curling.
“No. Not Farón. He was Lainon’s pupil, one of our best warriors, he wouldn’t …”
“It was … Farón,” confirmed Tensári. Amareth buried her face in her hands while Sontúr steadied Tensári. A strange silence settled over them as they waited for Galdith and Carodel to return from a wider inspection of the area.
“They have not even bothered to cover their tracks,” said Galdith. “They lead north-east.”
Idernon grit his teeth. “Meet me at the stables in ten minutes.”
He strode back towards the command tent in search of Erthoron, unaware of Galadan’s lingering gaze behind him. They had let their guard down, thought they were safe here with Dalú and Farón, but now, Idernon trusted nobody.
Nobody except The Company.
Rinon had shared tea with the Silvan leaders, had spoken of Handir’s return, and of course Pan’assár’s, who remained outside the tent. Rinon almost felt sorry for him. But there was still one important question to address. “What are Fel’annár’s intentions?”
“His plan is to ride out, a scouting mission to gather intelligence as to the king’s whereabouts.”
Rinon stared at Erthoron, wondering why the boy would do such a thing. Rinon had come to do precisely that himself, had brought the power to take on those who may be holding the king hostage. He shared a glance with Angon.
“And the rest of your warriors—will they join him, then?”
“They may. But we must give Fel’annár, Angon and Farón the time they need to convince our warriors.” said Erthoron. “Pan’assár’s command has taken a great toll on the king’s army.”
“Pan’assár can no longer lead our Silvan warriors,” said Angon. “They won’t accept him. Our only chance at reuniting the army, slim though it is, is for Pan’assár to be gone.”
“Pan’assár won’t leave, Warrior. Pan’assár is back.”
Angon turned to the prince, lip curled with unashamed hatred. He opened his mouth to speak, but Erthoron held up his hand for silence. “Angon. Leave it. You are here, and Pan’assár is just outside. He obviously believes that you are not responsible for what happened. Give him a chance. We can speak of the commander later.”
Angon held his tongue, and Rinon waited, wondering if they would return with the Silvan. If they did, he told himself he shouldn’t care what the boy looked like, how he spoke, how he carried himself or the things he would say. And then he heard it: distant shouting, rising voices, sounds of alarm. Rinon strode outside, passed Pan’assár, hand on the hilt of his sword. Standing before him was the same Silvan warrior who had interrupted them previously, but he was no longer worried. He was seething. He felt Pan’assár’s hand on his forearm and then watched him step forward. He did not expect Pan’assár to address him, let alone know his name.
“Idernon. What has happened?”
“They’ve taken him. Here in the camp. Farón has betrayed us.”
There was a shocked near-silence around them, and then the gritty voice of Dalú as he approached from behind Erthoron. “Farón is no traitor, Warrior.”
Idernon was livid. “Then let’s ask him, shall we, Captain? Tell me, where is he?”
Dalú signalled to the guard at the tent, eyes back on Idernon. “What happened?”
“Fel’annár and Tensári were poisoned by Dream Vine. Farón meant to kill her but failed. The tracks lead north-east, and I wager he is being taken to wherever the king is held.” Idernon turned to Pan’assár. “Commander, Dalú won’t find Farón, and every minute we waste is a minute further away from Fel’annár, perhaps even the king. The Company leaves now.”
“You will ride with us,” said Rinon, turning to leave. He stopped mid-stride and turned back when he realised Idernon had not moved.
“The Company rides alone.”
Rinon’s nostrils flared, eyes narrowed. “That was an order.” His eyes flickered to Galadan further behind, knew he was a lieutenant.
“We answer to the Warlord, Prince, as do these Silvan warriors around you.”
“What Warlord? That vote has yet to be taken.”
“Not by them. They have not invested him, but it hardly matters. He is their leader, whatever you wish to call him.”
“As your prince, I could command it.”
Idernon straightened himself. “And will you?”