A little ways ahead, the tunnel led to a shimmering doorway. The other side appeared to be a dim forest. Burchard could hear a familiar nicker from somewhere in the trees. A few more feet and they’d be out of the tunnel. Just then, Ruschmann bumped into Burchard, and they both fell into a tangled heap.
“Why do you always fall on me?” growled Burchard in annoyance.
Ruschmann grumbled something unintelligible, and finally they disentangled themselves. The opening to the forest was shimmering more.
“I think it’s going to close. Eos said we don’t have much time.” Burchard reached back and grabbed his friend’s hand, and together they jumped through the opening into the forest just as it disappeared.
Tied a few strides away were both of their horses.
“How? And who on earth is Eos?” asked Ruschmann.
“Let’s get going and I’ll explain,” Burchard replied, thinking, If I can even get the words out this time, as he jogged over to Chip, untied her, and mounted.
“Do we even know where we are?” Ruschmann asked, peering around before mounting his horse.
Burchard shrugged. “Hopefully far enough from Camp Tooth that we won’t be followed.” He clucked his tongue and Chip took off at a trot. Anytime he tried to steer her in a different direction, she would twist her neck and snap at his foot.
“Why is Chip being weirder than normal?” Ruschmann inquired.
Burchard choked. Ruschmann was right—Chip was being out of character. “Maybe Eos was able to show the horses where to go.”
As soon as he stopped trying to change directions, Chip increased the pace, weaving through the trees at a fast canter. A few times Burchard was certain they were going to run headlong into a tree, but Chip shifted away from the tree just in time. He could hear Cricket breathing and was reassured that they were sticking as close as possible. With the crazy pace there was no way he could explain anything to Ruschmann, and his friend wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway. Maybe this is how I once again don’t get to explain anything.
The ground started to slope downward. Burchard had no idea where they were. None of the landmarks they had passed were familiar. He was wondering if he should insist that Chip stop so he could consult the map when the ground leveled out and a wide road was just in front of them.
The road didn’t slow Chip down one bit. Both horses were side by side. Burchard exchanged a glance with Ruschmann. “Where do you think we are?”
Ruschmann opened his mouth to reply when they rounded a bend in the road, and the familiar towers of Alderth Castle were just visible over the top of a patch of dense fog. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, giving the castle a foreboding gray cast.
“Do we even know what day it is?” Ruschmann finally managed.
“No. I think today should be our third day gone, but I don’t know how long we were at Camp Tooth. I don’t think Eos was too concerned with making sure we know what day it is, only that we got out of there safely,” Burchard said.
“What are we going to tell Sir Peter when we get back? You know we won’t be able to do anything until we provide a report,” Ruschmann reminded him.
“When we are alone with Sir Peter and Sir Daniel, I believe we should be able to give them the full story. But I think if I said anything about a magic wolf to my father, we would both get whipped.” He grimaced, remembering all too well the feel of the whip on his back—something he hoped Ruschmann never had to experience himself.
The horses slowed to a walk just before they reached the gates.
“Ho there!” came a shout from the wall. As they went under the gate, Burchard could hear heavy footsteps coming down the wall stairs.
Sir Peter almost tripped down the last stair and stopped, staring at them in stunned silence. Finally, he spoke. “You’re alive!”
Burchard looked down at himself and then at Ruschmann before returning his gaze to his knight master. “Yes, it would seem we are still alive.”
Before Sir Peter could say anything else, both squires dismounted, and a pair of grooms came up to take the horses. Burchard pulled the letter from Radvall Mill out of his bag before motioning for the groom to lead Chip away.
Sir Peter came closer, inspecting both of them from head to toe. “General Wolfensberger declared you deserters two days ago. You’ve been gone for five days.”
“Five days!” gasped Ruschmann.
“Yes. How long did you think you were gone for?” Sir Peter asked, giving them a curious look.
“Three days,” supplied Burchard. I wonder if Father was upset when he declared us deserters or if he was pleased to no longer have to worry about having us underfoot.
Taking a deep breath, he followed Sir Peter as he led them inside the castle in the direction of the General’s office. Sir Peter paused at the door and knocked. A muffled reply could be heard. The knight slowly pushed open the door. Burchard didn’t blame him; since they couldn’t understand the words that had been spoken, it was impossible to know if it had been an order to come in or come back later.
“I told you earlier not to disturb me,” General Wolfensberger said gruffly, continuing to review the stack of papers on his desk.
Sir Peter coughed, causing the General to look up. Other than a slight widening of his eyes, which was quickly hidden, General Wolfensberger did not seem overly affected by the sudden appearance of his middle son.
“It appears they did not desert after all,” the General said coldly.
Burchard sighed. His father never made anything easy for him. “General Wolfensberger, we are here to give you a report from our scouting trip.” He paused. “I was asked to deliver this message to you from Radvall Mill.” Burchard pulled the crumpled letter out of his pocket and bowed before offering it. Ruschmann also bowed.
The General took the offered letter with a sniff of disapproval. “Next time someone sends you with a letter, you need to respect the sender and take care of it, not stuff it in whatever spot is most convenient.”
“Yes, sir,” Burchard and Ruschmann said in unison.
The General set the letter on top of his stack of paperwork and turned toward the squires with his hands behind his back. “Give me your report. I don’t have time to waste.”
Burchard nudged Ruschmann, who pulled out their half-written report and handed it to the General. The General gazed expectantly at Burchard, who sighed, then launched into his explanation. “We began our scouting trip on the first day and made it to Radvall Mill with no sign of any rebel activity. In the vicinity of the mill, we came across the Radvall brothers. They beseeched us to bring you their letter. They also warned us of rebel activity near Leosor Hollows.” He paused to give his father a chance to comment, but all the General did was wave his hand, indicating Burchard should continue.
Taking a deep breath, Burchard plunged onward. “Our plan was to camp at Leosor Hollows for the night since it is close to halfway. We were waylaid by a centaur and a young woman who wanted our help rescuing their friends in a nearby rebel camp. They were—”
“Centaurs are not real,” the General said in an accusing tone.
Ruschmann stepped forward. “I assure you, General, this one was very real.”
