The Rider . . .

The advantage, perhaps, was the rider did not know that he was being followed. However, he had a long lead, and Tirian would be hard-pressed to overtake him. His path was fresh, and Tirian made good ground, but at some point his quarry had obviously sped up, as if hastening to some unknown urgent mission. Hard Tirian followed, coming within sight of the rider on a couple of occasions, but the hunted rode without tiring, and seemingly through the night. Several hours bivouaced in a cave resulted in a lengthened lead for the mysterious rider.

Tirian looked out across the prairie to see the rider slipping over the horizon. Hope was not gone to catch him, especially with line of sight, but the chances became slim. He drove the borrowed steed hard, pursuing relentlessly while his mind wandered to the past that drove him here. He remembered his father, in the hidden settlement in the northern woods of the Third Kingdom, talking to him as they walked around the perimeter of the encampment, attempting to keep the women and children safe. "Son," he had said, "you must never stop searching for those that brought ruin on our House. You have the tools, you know what I know, and that which my father before me passed on to me. We have been close, my son, to unraveling the mystery of the fall."
"Father, who are they? Who are responsible?"
His father shook his head wearily. "It is unknown, my son. What we know is that we were betrayed from within our own walls. The betrayer was never known, nor whether he was slain or escaped with those to whom he offered aid. The assault came in the middle of the night, and our Father never stood a chance. It was only by the faithfulness of the Master-at-Arms that my grandfather, still but a young child, was rescued into the wild, and so our House was kept from perishing."
"Why do we not go back, Father?"
He shook his head again. "We know too little, my son. And Arcane Law gives authority to the victor where the bloodline of a House is destroyed."
"But father, the bloodline is not destroyed. We can go to the Council and make our claim, can we not?"
"To what end, my son? We do not know who it was who robbed our title to begin. Our lives, without knowledge and preparation, would be forfeit. This is why we travel and live under the House title of 'Broken Rampart. No one must know . . ."

He continued the chase, but his quarry had now taken to the trees, and time was lost looking for the trail once again. Another day of hard riding, pausing occasionally to care for the tiring steed, left Tirian further behind the one he chased than at the beginning of the day.