A barrier shimmered into existence as John peeped out from behind the stall. He looked up to see Grimald rush over to close the stable doors while arrows clattered off Udoriol’s barrier.

“There,” the dwarf panted once the doors were shut. He looked over at the other two stable hands. One was lying face down with several arrows in his back while the other was a blubbering mess as he cowered in the corner.

“Horses,” Grimald ordered.

The other two wasted no time and they quickly soothed and unhitched their horses as the sounds of shouting came from outside.

“Hurry, before they close the gates,” Grimald cried as they mounted up and guided their horses to the door.

Udoriol chanted a spell and a barrier shimmered into existence around them. On Grimald’s order, they burst out with Udoriol in the lead, knocking an armoured spearman flat on his back.

“Hurry!” John urged when he saw that the gate was still open.

Udoriol didn’t need any more encouragement and spurred his horse forward with the other two hot on his heels. Arrows flew from a group of archers, and armoured footmen barred their path, but fled before the charging horses. One did not make it in time and was trampled by Grimald’s horse, which scarcely slowed down.

“Lower the portcullis!” someone bellowed as they charged for the gate.

Looking up, John was encouraged to see that they had left most of the soldiers behind them. As they approached the gatehouse, his good mood evaporated as the portcullis came crashing down.

“Now what?” he exclaimed.

“Up the wall,” Udoriol exclaimed as he pulled on his reins, directing his horse to charge up a rickety flight of wooden stairs that took them to the top of the stone wall that circled the castle.

John bit back a curse and followed the other two up. Then, he remembered something important, which was confirmed when his horse reached the top of the stairs. A ditch ringed the wall, meaning the only way off the wall was to jump thirty feet to the ground. Udoriol charged down the wall before coming to a halt when they were almost all the way around the castle.

“Come on,” he said as he climbed down from his horse and looked down at the dirt ditch that ringed the wall. Beyond was a small wood that the baron used for hunting parties.

“No,” John breathed.

“Well, you can stay if you want to take your chances with them,” Grimald offered as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

John turned to see the baron’s soldiers running toward them as fast as their legs could carry them with murder in their eyes. Next to him, Udoriol muttered a prayer. Moments later, they were filled with courage and strength. John looked down at the ditch.

“Even with this spell, we’d be lucky to escape with broken ankles,” John pointed out sourly.

“Look, if you have a better plan, I’m all ears,” the elf shot back.

John scowled. He didn’t. With the gate shut, this was their only option. Of course, it would be a different matter if this castle had a nice moat around it.

“I don’t mean to be a nag, but they’re getting closer,” Grimald warned.

“Fine,” John breathed.

Udoriol took a deep breath. “On three.”

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“Never mind that, let’s go!” Grimald exclaimed. He grabbed the other two by the collar and leapt off the wall, pulling the other two with him.

John watched the ground approach and quickly found his centre as he fell. As the ground came, he crumpled his knees and rolled onto the ground. The initial force and the force of the second impact were more than he’d anticipated, and his face slammed into the ground. He scrambled to his feet tasting dirt and blood.

“Is everyone alright?” John asked, feeling miraculously unharmed.

Udoriol popped up next to him, his face was grimy and scratched, but otherwise, he looked fine. Grimald on the other hand, sported a split lip. He attempted to put weight on his right foot and cried out in pain.

“Let me see that,” Udoriol said.

“No,” Grimald panted through gritted teeth, “We need to run.”

Together, Udoriol and John helped Grimald limp into the bushes, which was made awkward by the dwarf’s height, as soldiers arrived at the place they had jumped.

“We’ll treat him when we find some cover,” Udoriol panted as they carried Grimald deeper into the woods.

“Didn’t the baron say he grew up in these woods?” John asked, “They’ll be crawling with his men before long.”

“Do you think he was behind the attack?” Udoriol ventured.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Grimald winced with pain every time he put weight on his right foot, “We have to assume the castle and the town are our enemies.”

They dragged him into a thick growth of underbrush and laid him carefully on the ground. Udoriol examined the dwarf’s ankle.

“The good news is that it’s not dislocated,” he said and muttered a spell. An orb of shimmering light appeared in his hand, which he placed against Grimald’s ankle.

“That’s a little better,” Grimald allowed.

“It’s also the best I can do for now,” Udoriol said apologetically.

“We should try to make our way into the town,” Grimald suggested as John got to work cutting down a few nearby branches to fashion a splint.

“Are you sure?” Udoriol asked, “It’s a small place and we’ll be sure to stand out.”

“There’s no other way for us to get to Balstat,” Grimald pointed out through gritted teeth, “I fear that we haven’t much time, and we can’t get there by hiding out in these woods.”

“What is it to us if their king gets killed?” John demanded.

“It would weaken the Alliance of Four Kingdoms for one,” Grimald pointed out.

“And I’m concerned by their use of doppelgangers,” Udoriol added. “They are servants of the Night Goddess.”

“Do you think Her followers are behind this plot?” John breathed.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Udoriol said grimly. He turned his attention back to Grimald. “How is your ankle?”

“I can walk,” he replied. “We need to go, quickly, before they surround these woods.”

Shouts could be heard nearby accompanied by the thunder of hooves as mounted soldiers charged off in search of them.

“If we’re lucky, they won’t think that we’d be stupid enough to attempt to get into town,” John muttered under his breath.

Grimald bit on his hand as they scurried on to stifle a scream of pain as they burst from cover and moved as quietly as they could through the undergrowth.

The woods were large, and the baron’s men few. Moving carefully and quietly, they managed to creep their way through them and to the edge of the town which was ringed by a low wooden stockade roughly twenty feet high. They skirted a section where a group of boys were gawking at the soldiers combing the woods from the top of the wall and found a likely place to attempt to climb over.

“Are you sure we don’t want to take the front gate?” John asked, looking at Grimald, who was drenched with sweat from the exertion and the pain.

“What?” John asked as the dwarf shot him a dirty look. “They haven’t even sounded the alarm from the keep yet.”

“You’re right,” Udoriol remarked, “That is strange…”

“We climb the wall here,” Grimald said evenly.

“I’ll go first,” John offered.

With Udoriol’s help, John climbed the stockade and found that there was no one in the small alleyway on the other side. It seemed that the commotion from the castle had drawn people to the other side of town. Good. They were a little closer to the church than he’d like. They’d given it a wide berth when they’d first strolled into this town, but that couldn’t be helped.

“It looks good,” John called down as he straddled the wall.

Udoriol helped boost Grimald up and with John’s help, he pulled himself up to the top. Udoriol was next up, scaling the wall with remarkable agility and landing silently on the other side. John was the next down and they both looked up at Grimald who gave an apologetic smile before falling into their arms. The dwarf’s bulk caught them both off guard and they fell in a heap with a crash.

“Get up,” John groaned, pinned down by the dwarf, who was sitting on his chest, “half the town must have heard that.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” Udoriol warned.

John looked up to see that a pair of White Cloaks had just rounded the corner. They were both staring at Udoriol whose hood had been knocked off in the fall. John cursed silently. It was all over if they recognized Udoriol. There was no way he could silence both of them before they sounded the alarm.

“You,” one of them breathed, “You’re Udoriol the Excommunicated.”