The cursed towers 215
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glassy. For a moment Dillon could not move or think. His heart beat so loud he could hear it in his ears.
He had grown up with Artair on the streets of Lucescere and he counted him as a brother.
The sharp bang as the harquebusiers fired again roused him, although he felt cold and shaky. Without a
word he tipped Artair over the side of the dinghy, first removing the little sword and the jeweled dagger
at his belt. Anntoin cried out and Dillon turned a fierce gaze on him. "He's dead. We need to lighten the
load," he said harshly. Parian crouched down, sobbing, and Dillon turned to him. "Do no' start greeting
now," he said in the same angry voice. "Get ye to that oar, Parian, and row as hard as ye can."
Sniffling, Parian obeyed as Ryley bound up his shoulder with his shirt and seized his oar again. The boat
shot forward over the sun-dazzled water, Johanna and the other healers still swimming valiantly along
behind.
Again and again the harquebusiers fired, but the dinghy was out of range. When Ryley was sure they
were clear, they pulled the swimmers and the wet, frightened dog aboard and rowed on, aiming for the
far shore. DilIon could see soldiers racing out from the little castle and he yelled at them all to row faster.
At last they came in under the shelter of the trees and scrambled out of the boat in some confusion, Jed
showering them all with water as he shook himself dry.
"We must head through the forest toward Arden-caple," Dillon said. "We must see what has happened to
the Righ! He may be hurt, wounded! He may need us. Johanna, can ye walk?"
The girl was exhausted, her bodice and long bloomers dripping wet, her face white, but she nodded,
snapping, "Aye, I be fine! Let us get moving!"
They pushed the dinghy back into the loch, then, carrying the sacks of supplies and medicines, hurried on
into the forest. Ryley was losing blood fast, but he said nothing, pressing the swab deeper into the
wound.
It was not long before they heard the sound of pursuit as the Bright Soldiers came crashing along the side
of the loch. Frantic with worry, Dillon kept trying to urge them to walk faster, but Jorge was old and very
frail and could barely totter.
"Ye must leave me," the old seer said, but Johanna cried, "Dinna talk that way, master, we shall no' leave
ye!"
"Ye do no' understand," Jorge said, stopping to lean on his staff and catch his breath. "I have seen the
time and manner o' my death and this, I fear, is the time."
"But the Bright Soldiers will hurt ye horribly," Tomas cried. "I can hear their thoughts, I ken what it is they
plan!"
"As do I, my bairn," Jorge replied. "Do ye think I do no' wish to avert my fate? I feel it rushing hard upon
my heels, though. I feel Gearradh's cold breath on my neck. If ye leave me, ye shall all be able to escape.
If you wait for me, we shall all die. This I can see clearly."
Tomas seized the old man's sleeve. "Come on, master, they come, they come!"
"We shall no' leave ye, sir," Ryley said respectfully, although he could not help glancing back at the ever
louder pursuit. "Come, let us try and find a place to hide."
Jorge shook his head. "Dillon, have a care for Tomas. He must be your charge. I would gladly give
myself up to save his precious life. Go, my bairns."
