[The Sixth Wizard]

"Cordelia, no!" yelled Garnae as she shot the man cleanly. What in the world does she think she's doing?! You can't shoot a man in the back! Is she so naive? He wondered if this would detract from his attraction to her. But there were more pressing matters at present. Like the fire that threatened to grow. More of the group held it off by thrashing it with damp cloaks. Thomas had gone to get help, but the village was a fair way away. Garnae decided to help the fallen man, be he enemy or no.

Mayonette was interrogating the fallen man harshly. The man was still breathing and on his side. She stood up. “Herbs,” coughed Garnae to Elfride. “In my pack, for treating arrow wounds. I have them, if you have none.” Elfride quickly relieved him of the pack. The scene played itself out, until a blood-curdling yell was heard from Thomas, returning with men.

Garnae sprang up, blade in hand. But this startled Crean, who was nearby. The horse sprang up, and ran, whinnying, toward the flames. Garnae leapt to grab his reins, but missed by an inch. Crean screamed shrilly as he was surrounded by the fire, and disappeared in the smoke. Garnae turned away in horror, falling, beating the ground madly.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" he screamed. Crean was like a brother to him, he had owned him throughout the training of the Riders, he had ridden through countless fields, driven herds of cattle, slept side by side with him in the fields. Crean was the closest thing he had to a true friend. The pain was unbearable. But Garnae knew that he would meet a similar fate if he stayed where he was. The men had to get to the river. There was only one chance to put out the fire, and the river held the key.