“Are we joining the battle?” Aslom asked.
“Not yet.”
He nodded, then motioning to his son, together they lifted Nox and bore him off toward the lines.
I took a deep breath and raced past them, legs pounding, moving as fast as I could.
“Open ranks!” sentries shouted.
A few arrows whizzed past me, but none hit. Several footmen with shields moved back, and I made it into their protective ranks. Aslom and Haetor followed a moment later.
Conner came racing up. “What happened?” he demanded, swinging down from his horse.
“It was Aber—he showed up and murdered King Uthor,” I said grimly.
“What!” He stared at me. “Impossible!”
I shook my head. “No. It was him. He did it. He's working for Lord Zon.”
“Take my horse,” he said. “I'll get another.”
Quickly I swung up into the saddle and took the reins.
“What orders?” he asked. “Do we stay? Do we fight?”
“No,” I said. “Uthor's forces are finished. They won't follow me now—Aber has seen to that.”
“So it's back to Amber,” he said.
“Yes.”
Turning, he shouted, “Sound ranks!” to the bugler.
Instantly the ta-ta-tat sounded out. Men scrambled to form lines, shields up, arms at the ready.
“Withdraw!” I shouted. “Prepare to march!”
Before I could say another word, sentries shouted, “Arrows!”
“Watch out!” I bellowed.
I threw my shield over my head as a rain of black missiles fell among us. A few men fell with sharp cries of agony, but most had shields up in time. The barrage did little damage.
“Pikemen to the fore!” I shouted, wheeling my horse. “Cavalry—prepare to ride ahead!”
Haetor came running. “Lord Nox is dead, sir!” he announced.
“Damn the luck. We'll probably be blamed for that, too.” Nothing could be done about it now, though. I hesitated a second, trying to figure the best course of action. “Take a squad of cavalry and find out where the arrows are coming from. We have to leave now or we'll be picked off one by one.”
“Yes, sir!” Saluting, he ran, calling for half a dozen men to join him. Hopefully it wouldn't be a suicide mission.
“Marching lines!” I shouted again. The pikemen and spearmen began to assemble, shields still raised over their heads. “Leave the tents and anything not easily carried! Abandon camp!”
I glanced around for Conner, but he was three hundred yards away. Instead of shouting, I pulled out his Trump. This time he answered immediately.
“How about those special troops you promised me back in Amber? We aren't going to make it out of here without help.”
He smiled a wicked smile. “I know just the one.”
“One what? Battalion?”
“No. One who agreed. He should be all you need.”
I blinked in surprise. “Is this a joke?”
“Dragons don't normally cooperate with people. We're more of a snack to them. It took a lot of persuading. And a lot of gold.”
“Did you say… a dragon?”
“Uh-huh.”
I smiled grimly. This might well turn the tide of battle in our favor.
“Where is it now?”
“I made a Trump. I can call him any time. You want him right now?”
“Yes—but do it over here!”
“Right!”
I broke the connection and looked to my men. “Clear a large area!” I shouted. “We have a change of plans—reinforcements are coming!”
Everyone cheered. They drew back a fifty feet in all directions, which I judged a safe enough distance.
Conner reached me then, riding hard, and drew up sharply. He had a Trump in one hand.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes!”
“Here it is!”
He handed me the Trump. It showed a face… huge, scaled, with eyes like black coals.
I raised it, concentrating. A presence seemed to overwhelm me… something huge… something old and dark and powerful. Something very smart and very powerful.