Svengal lay groaning on the turf. His thighs were sheer agony. His buttocks ached. His calf muscles were on fire. Now, afterhe had tumbled off the small pony he was riding and thudded heavily to the turf on the point of his shoulder, the shoulder would hurt too. He concentrated on trying to find one part of his body that wasn't a giant source of pain and failed miserably. He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the face of the elderly pony that he had been riding peered down at him. Now what made you do a strange thing like that? The creature seemed to be asking.

‎Halt looked up at the trees above him. "Why does this boy ask so many questions?" he asked the trees. Naturally, they didn't answer.

It formed into small drops on his weather beaten features, drops that rolled down his cheeks. Strangely, some of them tasted like salt.

But I wasn't happy... when I heard you two had assaulted Castle Macindaw with just thirty men,' [said Halt]. 'Thirty-three,' mumbled Horace... The Ranger gave him a withering look. 'Oh, pardon me... three more men does make a lot of difference.

Got to keep losing horses," he said drowsily. "Bad habit.

But...what if I mistime it?" Gilan smiled widely. "Well, in that case, I'll probably lop your head off your shoulders." Horace and Gilan

Erak. The one they call the Oberjarl," the Arridi answered him. Impulsively, Axl took a pace forward, raising his ax threateningly. You'll have to go through the rest of us to take him!" he shouted defiantly. Well done, Axl," he said. "You've just told them I'm here.