Thief By Knight
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The constant pounding of the horses' hooves beat like a drum inside Grantaire's head. He feared he would never escape the sound -- not even on that blessed day when he finally got to sleep.
These were their fourth mounts today, and the sun was still visible on the horizon. Baron Henri had kept up a fresh supply of strong animals, allowing them to ride at a fast gallop without stopping to rest. Enjolras had allowed them only one brief stop today to stretch their legs and munch on some dried venison.
Grantaire dreamed of that moment now as if it had been a luxurious feast. He would give anything to get off this horse. His back ached. His legs ached. His hands were cramping. These might be fine animals, but the constant fear of falling off at a full gallop had kept Grantaire clutching the reins with a painful grip. He didn't think he could move his fingers now if his life depended on it.
That was the thought that kept haunting him, more even than the fear of falling. Their lives might very well depend on staying alert during this hellish ride. He kept looking from Enjolras, riding boldly in the lead, to Felix struggling behind him, worried beyond reason that one of his companions would fall prey to some unseen threat. He searched the swaying grass for men hiding in ambush. He scanned the hills for signs of movement or a flash of steel that would reveal lurking spies. All this was nearly impossible at the speed they were riding. Grantaire feared an ambush would be upon them before they could spot it. He strained his ears listening for some clue that would save them, until every bird call sounded like a signal from the enemy.
The fall of night only made things worse. They had to slow down their pace or risk a bad stumble, so Grantaire was able to relax his grip on the reins. He could feel his fingers again, but that brought him little comfort. Night was the best time for an ambush. He peered into the shadows, looking for men behind every rock. The clouds hung thick about the moon, and Grantaire could not see his enemies in the dark. The irony did not escape him -- in the past he had used the cover of night to make his living. Now it made him feel vulnerable, as if their enemies had some mysterious way to see in the dark that he did not, giving them a deadly advantage. He told himself he was imagining things. But that didn't stop him from shivering at the distant howl of a wolf.
"Are you all right?"
The question came from Enjolras, who had stopped in front of him and was looking back in concern. Grantaire's own horse, having given up waiting for cues from its own rider, had followed Enjolras's example.
"I'm fine. Why?"
"You were shivering."
"Oh." Grantaire hadn't realized his reaction to the wolf was so obvious. He knew they seldom hunted men, but after so many childhood stories of their ferocity he stilled harbored a fear of the beasts. Of course, he knew better than to admit that to Enjolras.
"I'm just cold."
It was a perfectly comfortable fall night, with not even a breeze to chill them. Felix peered at him, frowning. "You look pale. Maybe you're catching something?"
Enjolras slid from the saddle and held out a hand to Grantaire. "Get down. We'll rest for a while."
Grantaire was embarrassed that a simple lie had prompted too much concern from his friends, but he let Enjolras help him anyway. His legs were so tired, he wasn't sure he could get out of the saddle by himself. He and Enjolras both helped Felix to dismount. The priest was over forty, an age when he should be allowed to sit quietly by the fire. This ride was hard on him.
Felix and Grantaire both sank wearily to the ground, not ashamed to let Enjolras tend to the horses. An accomplished rider, he had weathered the trip better than any of them, despite his recent wounds. He still massaged his stiff shoulder when he thought no one was looking, but he didn't seem to be in a lot of pain. He certainly had more energy than the rest of them. Grantaire drank from his water skin and watched with envy as Enjolras briskly rubbed down the horses' legs. These animals had to last them until dawn, when they could expect to find another messenger with fresh mounts.
"How far do you think we've come?" Felix asked.
Grantaire mentally consulted his maps. The forest they were skirting was on the far side of Lierre. "About sixty miles, I'd say."
Enjolras nodded in agreement. "We've done very well. I must remember to thank the baron. Lesser animals could not have carried us so far, so quickly.
"You know," Grantaire said, "if we keep this up, and avoid D'Brucie's men, we could make it to San Sebastien with time to spare."
Enjolras sat down beside him and took a drink of his own water. "It seems as if your faith has been restored, my friend."
"I said if we avoid D'Brucie's men. What are the chances of that?" The conversation was making Grantaire nervous. With all three of them sitting like this, they'd be helpless if someone attacked now. He sat up straighter to look around them, one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.
Felix followed his gaze. Seeing nothing, he turned to Grantaire, confused. "What's wrong? Did you see something?"
"No."
"Then why are you so nervous?"
"You mean aside from the fact that half of Cambrai would like to kill us? Oh, I don't know -- I can't think of a reason."
Felix rolled his eyes and was about to say something when Enjolras suddenly stood up. "We should be going," he said calmly. "We've rested long enough."
"You call that resting?"
"I'm afraid it's all the rest we can spare." He vaulted into the saddle with practiced ease and looked down at them patiently.
Grantaire exchanged a weary glance with Felix before hauling himself into the saddle. "I know we're in a hurry, Enjolras. But let's not kid ourselves -- that was not resting."
"Whatever you say Grantaire." He made some invisible gesture and his horse turned around and began walking. Grantaire wished his horse would do that -- all the kicking his animal required seemed a bit undignified.
He turned in the saddle to make sure Felix was behind him when he heard something rustling in the tall grass. "Enjolras! Get down!" He started to reach for his cross-bow, wishing he'd dared to keep it loaded, when the rustling stopped and a high-pitched animal squeal of pain reached them. A moment later, a red fox trotted out from its cover with a small rodent in its jaws. It regarded them curiously for a moment, its bushy tail twitching slightly. Then, as if afraid they might steal its prize, it raced off, disappearing into the night.
Embarrassed, Grantaire turned around. Felix regarded him with one raised eyebrow, and Enjolras's look of sympathy was almost more than he could endure.
"Grantaire, I understand your uneasiness. But you really need to calm down."
"I am calm."
"Why don't you --"
"Drop it, Enjolras. Just, please, drop it."
Enjolras nodded, and they moved on. Felix, riding beside him, gave him a smug look. "Brave Sir Grantaire," he muttered, "ever alert to danger."
"Oh, shut up."
They rode through the night. Nothing unusual occurred, but Grantaire's agitation only increased. It wasn't just his growing exhaustion. He knew every step closer to San Sebastien made an attack that much more likely. How much longer would it be before D'Brucie's men found them?
It was shortly after their change of mounts the next morning when Grantaire spotted riders heading towards them. Mindful of Felix, he said nothing at first. He blinked hard, shaking his head to clear it before he opened his eyes again. But the riders were still there. There were three of them, one leading a big, white horse, and they were riding fast.
"Riders!" Grantaire lifted up his cross-bow and cranked a shaft into place. Enjolras's only weapon was his sword. Grantaire was determined to take out at least one of the assassins before they got close enough to do any harm.
He was just about to shoot when Enjolras cried out and knocked the bow from his hand. Grantaire watched in disbelief as the weapon hit the ground, loosing its shaft harmlessly into the dirt. He turned to yell at Enjolras. But the riders were closer now, and Grantaire could see the coat arms on their tunics -- blue and white, with the unicorn rampant. The family crest of Cheval. The riders were none other than Enjolras's three brothers. Raimi led Ganelon, Enjolras's stallion.
"We've found you at last!" he called out, smiling merrily as they rode up. "Enjolras, I've brought you Ganelon. He trotted home safely, just as you thought he would. But you really should have put a note in his saddle, or something. Mother was frantic. When we found out from Baron Henri that you were all right, Vivien declared she'd never speak to you again."
"It was so rude of you not to be dead, Enjolras," said Julien with a laugh. Taking in Grantaire's guilty expression and the fallen crossbow, he winked slyly at Grantaire. "Expecting someone else, were you?"
"Just keeping an eye out for rabbits."
"Oh, of course." He slid down from the saddle to help Andrei, who practically pulled Enjolras out of his saddle and into a bear hug. When Enjolras failed to hide a wince of pain, his brothers looked at him in concern.
"What's wrong?" asked Julien. "Are you hurt?"
"It's nothing."
"Oh, no," Grantaire said. "Just some broken ribs. And a broken arm. We've been riding like hell -- he only had one night to rest."
Julien stepped closer and made as if to inspect the wounds for himself, but Enjolras gently pushed his hand away. "I assure you, I am quite well. I healed the bones as much as I could -- they are nearly mended."
Raimi smiled. "You know, Enjolras, if you can manage to still look hurt when we get to San Sebastien, I'm sure Vivien will forgive you."
"San Sebastien? What's she doing there? She didn't go alone?"
"Of course not. She went with mother and father, and some of the guards. They're waiting for you there. Vivien insisted she wanted to see your coronation, Enjolras. Oh, and she sends her regards to you, Grantaire."
Grantaire didn't quite know what to say to that. Andrei scowled at him, a rather frightening expression on such a large man.
"I'm sorry," Enjolras said. "It's wonderful to see you all. But, I wish you hadn't come. You're in danger as long as you're with me."
Julien sighed. "Don't bother complaining, Enjolras. We're not leaving you. Now, let's plan the rest of this journey, shall we? I have maps in my saddle bag."
"But --"
Andrei stopped him in mid-protest, placing a meaty hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me, little brother. You're not the only one who understands how important this is. Cheval will not stand by and let Nigel D'Brucie take the throne. We're going to help you get to San Sebastien, and you're going to let us."
The two brothers locked gazes for a moment, a silent contest of wills. Then Enjolras nodded. "I am grateful for your help. And your company."
The rest of them dismounted, giving their horses a chance to rest while they pored over Julien's maps. Enjolras patted Ganelon fondly and looked over their shoulders.
"Where were you planning to cross the river?" asked Julien
Grantaire pointed to the most likely spot, just north of the lake. It was the easiest crossing and not far from them.
"I don't know," Julien objected. "D'Brucie is likely to have guards there. We've had a few scouts out; we couldn't spare many without leaving Cheval unguarded. Some of our men who went as far as the river didn't come back."
Grantaire shrugged. "We have to cross somewhere. He can't have them all guarded. Surely he can't spare the men to watch an entire river."
"There's Armand, too."
"Most of his men are dead."
"Dead?" Julien's eyes widened. "How? When?"
Grantaire caught the warning look from Enjolras. "Um, it's a long story. We'll tell you later. The point is, they don't have as many men as they used to."
Andrei, who'd been pacing restlessly during this discussion, threw up his hands in disgust. "The point is, we could talk about this forever and still not know which is the best way to go. Just pick a crossing and let's go!"
Julien frowned at him. "Don't be so impatient. We can't be reckless about this."
Enjolras intervened before the two could start a serious argument. "Andrei has a point, Julien. I suggest we pray before making our decision."
Felix nodded. "Excellent idea."
Grantaire caught a long-suffering look from Julien, but he shrugged at him. Enjolras was in charge here. If he wanted to pray, they'd pray. At Enjolras's insistence, they all got down on their knees and joined hands while he prayed for guidance. Grantaire barely heard his words; he concentrated instead on listening for approaching riders. It would be a fine thing for them all to be slaughtered like this.
Despite their hurry, Enjolras did not rush his prayer. Grantaire shifted his balance back and forth, trying to ease the sore calves that violently protested this unnatural position. Finally, Enjolras looked up and placed his finger on one of the smaller maps. It was a crossing farther north, with the words uncertain bridge scrawled beside it.
Raimi frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," said Julien. "I bought this one from a trapper. I hate to say this, Enjolras, but maybe we should reconsider. This map is two years old. The bridge might not even be there any more."
Enjolras gave him a stern look. "It will be there. Let's be off." He mounted Ganelon before anyone could protest and began riding. The rest of them hastened to unsaddle Baron Henri's horses and send them home before catching up to him.
Because they'd made such good time before meeting up with Enjolras's brothers, they were able to ride at a slower pace the rest of the day. It comforted Grantaire somewhat to know they wouldn't be galloping head-long into an ambush. It also gave him the opportunity to ride beside Raimi and fill him in on some of the exciting adventures he'd missed.
"So Felix lit us another torch while Enjolras killed the bear and I fought off the pack of wolves." Since he couldn't tell about the screechers, Grantaire felt obliged to make up something interesting.
Raimi frowned. "What were all those animals doing inside the caverns with the bandits?"
"These were distant tunnels where the bandits didn't go much. Like I said, we were really lost. Who knows how far inside that mountain we were."
"But wolves? Wolves don't live in caves."
"They must have gotten lost and couldn't find their way out. Those tunnels went on for miles; we were lost in them for days."
Raimi still seemed doubtful. Despite his youth, he wasn't as naive as Grantaire had assumed. But he apparently decided to accept the wolves for now. "So how did Enjolras get hurt?" he asked. "Was it the bear?"
"No. We were running from some bandits, well all of them actually, and he fell down a hole." Grantaire chuckled. What had been so horrible at the time seemed funny now, knowing Enjolras had survived.
"That's not very dignified." Raimi shared Enjolras's serious nature, and he took offense at any slight to his brother's honor. Grantaire was touched by his loyalty. He wondered if he would ever get over being jealous of Enjolras for having brothers like this.
"Don't be so hard on him. If Enjolras hadn't been brave enough to take the lead, then Felix or I would have fallen down that hole. We probably wouldn't have survived. Besides, that's how we found the underground river that led us out."
"How did you get down to Enjolras?"
"We used rope. The bandits left lots of it behind when the wolves went mad and killed them all."
Raimi looked ahead, to where Enjolras and Julien rode, talking about the route no doubt. Julien tackled any problem like a terrier with a bone -- he wouldn't stop gnawing at it until someone took it away from him. Felix and Andrei rode behind them; what those two found to talk about Grantaire could only wonder.
"You've been a good friend to my brother," Raimi said.
Grantaire stared at him, wondering where this had come from. "Uh, thanks. But it's been mutual."
"I suppose. But you're not the one dragging him into danger. Enjolras was right when he said you deserved to be knighted."
"Yeah, well, just don't start calling me Sir Grantaire, okay kid?"
"All right. If you promise not to call me kid."
Grantaire laughed. "You have a deal."
"Grantaire, I have something to give you." He looked around to make sure the others weren't watching. Then, he drew a long, gold chain from a pocket inside his cloak. A ring dangled from it, a delicate silver band set with a single ruby.
"It's from Vivien."
Grantaire stared at the shiny object, amazed. "Why would she give me that?"
"She wants you to wear it. Here, take it."
Grantaire held out his hand and Raimi dropped the chain into his hand. The ring was cool against his palm.
"I don't understand."
"She said it would bring you luck."
"Luck. We certainly need it." Grantaire felt Raimi's eyes on him as he slipped the chain around his neck and tucked it inside his shirt. He was glad the others hadn't seen this; he felt so awkward. Grantaire looked into Raimi's eyes and tried not to blush.
"Uh, thanks."
Raimi looked back at him, thoughtful. "You didn't know, did you?"
"Didn't know what?"
"That Vivien is fond of you."
"She is?"
"Oh, yes. She hasn't admitted it to anyone. But I know my sister well. She hasn't stopped brooding since you came to Cheval. I swear she's spent more time on the palisades looking up at the stars than she has in her own bed. I've never seen her like this before."
This was too much to be believed. Why would someone like Vivien care for him? "She's just worried about Enjolras, that's all."
"She didn't send Enjolras her ring."
Raimi chuckled and rode up to join his brothers, leaving Grantaire alone with his thoughts. Grantaire felt the weight of the ring against his chest and wondered if anything about his life would turn out as he'd expected.
The sun was just beginning to set when they reached the river. The bridge turned out to be a narrow structure made of rope and wooden slats, many of them broken or altogether missing. It creaked and swayed alarmingly in the wind. Staying in the shelter of the fir trees which grew thick along the river bank, they studied the bridge apprehensively.
"Now I understand," said Julien. "It's not certain it's a bridge."
"Certainly not," agreed Grantaire.
Enjolras scowled at them. "This is no time for jokes."
"It might be our last if you insist on crossing that thing." Grantaire pointed to the swaying bridge. "The horses will never cross that."
"With gentle persuasion, they will." Enjolras firmly emphasized the gentle, needlessly reminding Grantaire that his horsemanship was anything but. Grantaire ignored him. Enjolras was one of those people who thought every man should be good with horses, and had a bad habit of judging a man's worth by his ability to handle the stupid beasts. To Grantaire, it was his greatest fault, next to his tendency to lecture.
"We'll have to go single file," said Andrei, scratching thoughtfully at his beard. As far as Grantaire could tell, Andrei did little thinking for himself, but preferred to rely on the opinions of his brothers, especially Enjolras. If Enjolras said the bridge could be crossed, then Andrei considered the matter settled. Grantaire and Julien only shrugged at each other. It appeared that stubborn faith, rather than common sense, would decide the fate of this party, and there was nothing either one of them could do about it.
"What about D'Brucie?" asked Raimi. "Won't that be dangerous if he has people watching the bridge?"
"Good point," said Grantaire. "We should wait a while, and watch the bridge."
"That won't prove anything," said Andrei, who had none of his brother's remarkable patience.
"It will if they're careless."
"We can't afford to waste time."
"We can't afford to die either."
Enjolras stepped in between them, effectively breaking up the incipient argument. "We'll watch for an hour or so after the sun sets, keeping an eye out for any movement on the other side of the bridge. I know you'd like to wait longer, Grantaire, but we really can't afford the delay."
Grantaire conceded the point, and they all lay down among the dead needles that covered the ground like a blanket, trying to make themselves comfortable while they watched. Except for Felix, of course, who insisted his eye sight was failing and promptly went to sleep. Grantaire thought it was a convenient time for such an infirmity, as the priest had never mentioned it before, but he didn't say anything. They had enough eyes watching the opposite shore, and Felix wasn't particularly observant anyway.
Raimi grew restless and asked Grantaire to finish his account of their mishaps in the bandits' tunnels, which he had begun on their way here. Enjolras told Raimi to be quiet, lest he distract him from their watching. The boy obeyed, leaning back against a tree to stare across the river with a bored and resentful expression. Grantaire smiled. He privately suspected that Enjolras forbade the story less out of a desire for silence than an aversion to lying, especially to his brothers. It was a pity, for Grantaire considered himself a fine story teller, and Raimi made an appreciative audience. It might have been just as well he didn't get to finish, though. His imagination, once warmed up, had been about to put a sea monster in the underground river which, now that he had more time to think about it, wouldn't have been entirely believable.
They watched for quite some time, while the darkness settled in around them and the full moon climbed into the night sky, bringing along a few stars for company. It was quiet here, by the river. The only sounds besides the rushing water were Felix's snoring and the occasional cry of an owl. Grantaire felt his eyelids growing heavy, and it would have been easy to join Felix in oblivion. But watching the river had been his idea, so he resolutely kept his eyes open.
Their persistence earned them nothing. The only thing they saw moving across the river was a doe that came down to drink, then darted back into the woods. If anyone was watching, they were being careful not to show themselves.
"This is a waste of time," Andrei complained when his limited patience ran out after a few hours. "If anyone is out there, they're not going to come out and stand by the river just so we can see them. I say we head across the bridge and be done with it."
Andrei stood, dusting stray needles from his tunic. Raimi sprang to his feet, nearly tripping over Felix, who awoke with a puzzled yawn.
"What? Are we going now?"
"Not yet," said Enjolras. He stood and latched on to both of his brothers to prevent them from running off. "We can't just all charge across the bridge at once. It's too dangerous."
"You're right," said Grantaire, pleased that Enjolras was being so careful. Caution was his own best quality, and he was pleased to see that some of it had rubbed off on the once impulsive knight. "I'll walk across and scout things out first."
"No, Grantaire." In his alarm, Enjolras let go of his brothers and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You're not going alone -- it's too dangerous."
"Not for me. You're the one they want to kill."
"It would be dangerous for anyone. It is a good idea, Grantaire, but this is my quest. I will be the one to go."
"Oh no." Julien jumped to his feet at this. Now they were all standing except for Felix, who watched the argument with wide eyes from his prone position on the ground. "You're not running out there by yourself!"
"Damn right you're not," said Andrei. "I'll go."
Enjolras sighed. "No, I can't allow that. We must stick together. As Saint Sebastien himself has written, the greatest strength of those who would serve God lies in unity of faith and unity of purpose."
"Just a minute ago you were saying we shouldn't all charge across the bridge at once." Irritated that Enjolras's newly learned caution was vanishing so quickly, Grantaire shook himself free of his friend's grip. "Stop contradicting yourself."
"I'm merely changing my mind, Grantaire."
"Losing it is more like it. I'll go look around. I'm used to being sneaky, remember? If there is anyone there, they won't even see me."
Enjolras shook his head. "No, Grantaire. I can't allow this."
"How do you plan to stop me?"
Grantaire realized at once that he shouldn't have asked the question. But it was too late. Enjolras's fist caught him squarely in the jaw. His last thought, before he passed out, was that once upon a time he had been smart enough not to stand around arguing with people who were stronger than he was.
It was still dark when he awoke. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed at his sore jaw. Raimi and Felix sat in front of him, looking out across the river. Feeling foolish and a little betrayed, he crawled over to them.
"I can't believe he punched me."
Raimi peered at his bruised jaw with interest. "I've never seen Enjolras punch anyone before. Does it hurt?"
"Of course it hurts."
Felix turned around with a frown. "Shh. Be quiet."
"What's going on?" Grantaire pulled himself up by the hood of Felix's robe so he could see better. He spotted Enjolras, Julien, and Andrei crossing the rickety bridge on foot. They were clearly visible in the light of the full moon. Their drawn swords shone like lanterns, and every step they took made the wooden slats of the bridge groan in protest.
"What the hell are they doing?"
Raimi frowned at him unhappily. "They said we had to keep you here until they said it was all right. Enjolras told me I could punch you again."
Grantaire shot him an icy glare.
"I'd rather not."
"You wouldn't get the chance." Grantaire stood and went back to their pile of supplies. He wanted his crossbow, but he didn't see it anywhere. Come to think of it, the comforting weights of the dagger he kept at his belt and the smaller knife he always tucked into his boot were missing.
"God damn it all. Where are my weapons?"
Raimi looked nervously at Felix. "I don't know. Have you seen them, Felix?"
The priest shook his head, carefully not looking at Grantaire. With a sigh, Grantaire grabbed Raimi by the collar, pulled him to his feet and shook him roughly.
"I've had enough of this. Give me my weapons."
"Enjolras made me hide them."
"What? What does he expect us to do if they get attacked?"
Raimi hung his head. "He said we had to run away."
"Good God." Grantaire let go of Raimi, who backed away nervously. He couldn't blame the kid -- he was only being loyal to his brother. The problem was, his brother had taken leave of his senses. Though he expected to become king, he seemed to be doing everything in his power to get himself killed.
"Look, I know you mean well. We all want to help Enjolras. But I've seen men with birds nesting in their beards who act saner than he is right now. Let me have my weapons."
"No, Grantaire," said Felix. "I know Enjolras seems to be acting strangely right now. But you have to remember that his wisdom comes from God. We must trust his judgment."
Grantaire didn't have time to argue with the priest about faith in Enjolras's divine insight. He looked beseechingly at Raimi, the weaker of the two.
"Would you really be willing to run off and let your brothers die?"
"No. But I promised Enjolras."
Grantaire sighed. "I know what he's like; he can get you to promise him anything. But for some insane reason he's being over-protective of both of us. We can't just sit here and take it while he goes off and risks his life. Can we?"
Raimi cast one brief, guilty look at Felix, then ran off past the stand of trees where they had tied the horses. He came back with a sack that was stained with fresh soil. He thrust it at Grantaire.
"They're in here."
"Thank you, Raimi. I know you won't regret this." Grantaire opened the sack and pulled out his dagger, then his crossbow. He was just getting ready to load the weapon when someone cried out from the bridge.
"No!" Raimi stood and bolted for the bridge. Grantaire reached out to stop him and caught empty air.
"Damn it." He ran after Raimi, leaving Felix to follow as best he could. Someone had fallen on the bridge, he couldn't tell who. The other two were rushing to get across, desperate to reach the archers who had appeared on the other side. If they stayed on the bridge, they'd all be cut down.
Grantaire reached the fallen man just after Raimi did. It was Julien. A feathered shaft protruded from his leg. Blood soaked the bridge beneath him. Raimi knelt beside him, sobbing like a child.
"Stop it, Raimi," Julien cursed, irritable in his pain. "I'm not dying."
Grantaire heard shouting and the clash of weapons. Felix came running up, panting and looking worried.
"Felix, Raimi, stay with Julien. He needs you." He didn't really need both of them. But Raimi was reckless, and Felix didn't carry a weapon. He didn't want either one of them getting killed. Catching on to the deception, Julien groaned convincingly and leaned against his brother, his eyes closed.
"Do what you can for him," said Grantaire. "I'll be right back." He dashed across the bridge, thankful now for the abundance of moonlight that had revealed them to their enemies. Dropping his bow, for the fight was too close, he clutched his dagger and paused, trying to decide where his help was needed most. He could clearly see Enjolras and Andrei, their backs to the bridge as they fought a dozen bandits. Andrei fought like a bear with wolves nipping at his heels. He swung his broad sword with both hands, cutting anyone who dared to step too close. Already three men lay bleeding at his feet, one of them clutching at the bloody stump of an arm and moaning piteously.
Enjolras fought only one opponent, which Grantaire thought was strange. He was the target, after all. Then he saw the emerald winking brightly from the man's sword hand. It was Armand. He fought Enjolras alone, driven not by wisdom, but hatred. He wanted to be the one to kill Enjolras.
Grantaire was relieved. Armand had allowed his feelings to overcome his good sense, and Enjolras could handle him. He started to go to Andrei, who was outnumbered and surely needed help more. A cry of pain stopped him. It was Enjolras, his eyes wide in astonishment as Armand's sword cut deeply through his side, spraying blood everywhere. Enjolras's sword slipped from his hand and fell to the ground. Enjolras fell on top of it.
Grantaire stopped in his tracks, stunned. He looked in horror from the still form of Enjolras to Armand's satisfied smile. Armand raised his sword high above his head, grinning as he prepared to deal another blow.
"No!" Unthinking, Grantaire rushed towards him. He ducked under the falling blade and threw himself shoulder first into Armand's side. The blade flew off into the grass and they both hit the ground hard, Grantaire on top. Armand spat at him and tried to push him off. Grantaire dug his knee into Armand's stomach. Armand groaned and grew still, only for a second, but it was enough. Grantaire lifted his dagger and slit Armand's throat. Blood spurted like a fountain onto his face, over his hands and arms. Furious, Grantaire ignored it. He held Armand down while he writhed and choked, not sitting up until his struggles ceased and his eyes glazed over.
Hearing foot steps behind him, Grantaire lurched to his feet, holding the bloody dagger before him. But it was only Andrei, bleeding badly from a cut on his arm. Five bodies littered the ground behind him. Grantaire saw others running off into the woods. There was no need for them to stay and risk themselves. Their leader was dead. And they had done what they were sent here for.
Andrei staggered past him to kneel beside his brother's body. It was all over. There was no hope any more. No point in going on. Enjolras was dead. His so-called divine visions were nothing but a lie. His destiny was not the first throne of Cambrai, but a cold hole in the ground. Grantaire felt hot tears running down his cheeks. He felt Armand's blood drying on his hands, but he took no comfort in it. His hatred was not for Armand, who had killed Enjolras, but for God, who had let him do it.
He heard a sob behind him. He turned to see the other three, Julien leaning heavily on Felix's shoulder. The sob came from Raimi, who threw himself to the ground beside Andrei.
"Is he dead?"
Grantaire opened his mouth to answer him. Of course Enjolras was dead. How could they expect anything different? But words were slow in coming, and Andrei answered first.
"No, Raimi. But he's badly hurt."
The words stunned Grantaire. Enjolras was alive? He sank to the ground without willing it, because his legs would no longer support him. He couldn't believe it. Needing proof, he put a hand on Enjolras's neck. A pulse answered his touch, faint but steady.
"My God. He is alive." While Grantaire sent a silent prayer to heaven, part thanks and part apology, they moved aside to let Felix tend to Enjolras. Raimi raced across the bridge to fetch the bandages Felix had left there, almost falling through the missing planks in his haste to be of service. They watched Felix tensely, Julien and Andrei too worried about their brother to mind their own wounds.
There was a lot of blood, and Felix's face was grim as he worked. Raimi asked three times if Enjolras would be all right. He never got an answer. Felix worked silently, all his attention on his patient.
Felix finished wrapping the wound. He leaned back, wiping the sweat from his brow, just as Enjolras opened his eyes. He gasped, like one who'd nearly escaped drowning.
"Rest easy," said Felix. He seemed as surprised as the rest of them to see Enjolras looking back at him.
Julien leaned over and clasped his brother's hand. "Enjolras, you're badly hurt. Can you use your gift? Heal yourself, Enjolras."
With difficulty, he turned his head to look at his brother. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "No," he managed, the word a hoarse croak.
"It's okay," said Felix. "We'll rest here until you're stronger. We can camp beside the river."
Enjolras shook his head weakly. "No. We must go on."
"Are you crazy?" Grantaire shouted. His fear for Enjolras made him angry, and he could not coddle him as the others were doing. "We can't keep going now. You'll die, you fool. What good is a dead king?"
"We will reach San Sebastien. I have seen it."
"Enjolras, you're kidding yourself. This isn't a vision, man. It's hysteria."
No one spoke for a moment. Enjolras lifted a hand. Trembling, he held it out to him. "Grantaire. My friend, come here."
The others moved aside to give him room. Grantaire looked into Enjolras's pain-filled eyes, and he could not refuse him. He knelt down beside his friend and took the trembling hand in his own.
"Don't lecture me, Enjolras. You're too weak."
Enjolras didn't smile. He regarded Grantaire with a desperate, beseeching gaze that Grantaire never would have expected from him. His hand gripped Grantaire's with sudden strength, though his voice remained soft and weak.
"Grantaire, if we stop now, everything we have done, everything we have fought so hard for, will be for nothing. D'Brucie will win. The man who killed Reginald, a murderer, will govern Cambrai. Grantaire, when we met, as a paid servant you agreed to take me to San Sebastien. I ask you now, as my most beloved friend, to help me finish what we started."
Grantaire didn't want Enjolras to die. If they moved on, he didn't see how Enjolras could make it. But he didn't have any choice. All along, Enjolras had been guided by knowledge that Grantaire could not see or understand. Until now, it had not failed him. If Enjolras thought he could survive the trip, Grantaire could not destroy his hope. No matter what the risk, he could not look his only friend in the eye and refuse him this final and most important request.
"All right," he said. "I'll help you."
The others stared at him in astonishment. Grantaire expected a fight. Enjolras was their brother, and they were bound to protect him. He was surprised when, without a single word, they got up and prepared to leave. No one hesitated, and no one argued. Enjolras had faith in his dream. Their love for him left them no choice but to share it.
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