Read Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold for Free Online

way.” He pointed east. “Peredur, that way.” He pointed south. “Borlath followed him. Mabon, the archer, he went west and so did Ilgar and Edwin. But, um, I saw Amadis riding, um” — he pointed north — “that way.”
    “To the mountains,” said Petrello.
    “Yes, it would be,” Urien agreed.
    “To speak with the eagles,” said Tolly. “Eagles can see more than earthbound creatures like us.”
    “True.” Urien nodded. He took an apple from a bag hanging on his belt. “What chance do I have of finding the bellman,” he mumbled as he chewed. “Your brother Amadis will come closest.”
    “We know.” Tolly gave his pony a light kick and then he raced away.
    “Good hunting, Urien,” called Petrello as he galloped after Tolly.
    The boys had explored the forest many times, but it was so vast they knew it was unlikely that they would ever know every part of it. Paths spread through the trees like the threads of a giant cobweb: deer tracks, goat tracks, paths made by the knights’ horses, the almost invisible trails of creatures that were rarely seen, and the paths of the villagers who came to collect wood for their fires, to catch hares and pigeons for their tables.
    The Knight Protectors rarely hunted. They didn’t have the same urgency as the villagers to fill their larders, for King Timoken could multiply, and the food that was stored in the castle stock house could be doubled in less than a day.
    At the base of the mountain, the trees began to thin; soon, only gorse and windblown thorn trees clung to the mountainside. A track made by wild goats led to the summit, where a covering of snow glistened in the sunlight.
    Petrello was ahead when they began to ascend the mountain. He was looking up at the eagle hovering above him when he heard a shout. He looked back and saw his brother’s pony tossing its head. It stamped and gave a whinny of distress. Tolly had vanished.
    Unable to turn his pony quickly on the narrow path, Petrello leaped off its back and ran down into the trees.
    “Tolly! Tolomeo! Is this a joke? Answer me!”
    A rock smacked into the back of Petrello’s head. He tried to keep his balance, but dizzy with pain he fell forward, his face buried in a thicket. Hands grabbed his ankles, small rough hands. He tried to turn his head but the pain was too great, and covering his face with an arm, he had to let his assailants drag him backward over the stony ground.
    “Let me go!” Petrello shouted. “I have nothing.”
    “You ain’t got your dignity, that’s for sure.” It was a boy’s voice, a boy no older than Petrello himself by the sound of it.
    It’s a game, thought Petrello. He almost relaxed, but then he became angry and yelled, “Stop this! I’m the king’s son.”
    “We guessed that!” This was a different voice, pitched higher. Perhaps it belonged to a girl. She sounded hard and spiteful.
    They began to tie Petrello’s ankles together, their small hands twisting the rope so tight his bones grated. As they pulled back his arms, he managed a quick look over his shoulder. He saw curtains of thick brown hair almost covering a pale face streaked with mud. The girl grinned, showing a toothless gap in her lower jaw. She couldn’t have been more than eight or nine.
    Once his feet and hands were bound, Petrello was allowed to roll over. He found himself in a dark cave, the ceiling a damp rock veined in green moss. His brother lay in a corner. Tolly’s hands and feet were bound and his eyes were closed, but he appeared to be breathing.
    “What have you done to my brother?” Petrello glared at the two ragged children grinning down at him.
    “Knocked him on the head,” said the boy. He looked very like the girl, though his hair was shorter and his chin wider. “He’ll be all right,” went on the boy. “I’ve been hit on the head worse than he has, haven’t I, sis?”
    “That you have. And you ain’t dead.” The girl cackled.
    Tolly began to moan. His eyes opened and he