It was the first bed she had been in for a long, long time and sleep should have come to her the moment she touched the pillow. But too many thoughts raced through her mind to permit sleep—thoughts jumbled and confused.
Ever since Jotan had rejoined the main body of his men after his unsuccessful search for Dylara, he had been moody and distraught. Those warriors who had accompanied him and Tamar on the hunt seemed confident—out of Jotan's hearing!—that the jungle had gotten her, just as it had claimed the lives of countless others.
And now that the way was clear to win him, Alurna slipped easily into a new role—a role of silent understanding and ready sympathy. Slowly and unconsciously Jotan had begun to respond to treatment. It might take several moons, she realized, before he would begin to look upon her as a desirable woman in addition to a warmhearted and friendly companion. But she could wait—for many moons if necessary.
Now the intrigue of some unknown enemy of Jotan's father had given the young nobleman new worries. If only there was some way to help him—some method by which she might earn his gratitude. Gratitude, she knew, was an excellent base on which to build romance.
Somewhere in the bowels of this very building Jotan and his father lay in dark, damp cells, put there on the orders of her own uncle. As king of Ammad and brother of her father he was entitled to her loyalty and respect. But when it came to the point of choosing between Jaltor and Jotan ... there was no doubt in her mind as to her ultimate decision!
As she lay there on her back, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the ceiling beams, a plan began to shape itself in her mind—a plan which, as details took concrete form, brought a faint smile to her lips.
And still smiling, Alurna fell asleep....
As the Ammadian patrol bore down upon him with leveled spears, Tharn's blackwood bow seemed to leap into his hands and two arrows flashed across the intervening space. Two of the warriors toppled and died under those flint arrow heads, but before the cave lord could release a third he was forced to leap hastily aside to prevent impalement by three thrown spears. So narrow the distance now that his bow was useless, and so he tore his knife from its place at its belt and, with the silent ferocity of a charging lion, hurled himself upon the remaining four guards.
Two more of the Ammadians collapsed in death, their heads almost severed as polished flint tore into their throats. The remaining pair, upon seeing that and hearing the bestial snarls issuing from that broad chest, drew back sharply, wavering on the verge of outright flight.