Chapter 28
It is useless to attempt to imagine
the state of anguish that churned in Rwiordes’s heart and soul. The screams from the burning inhabitants of
Coertol City still echoed loudly in his skull, despite the fact that many miles
now stood between him and the site of the tragedy. He had ordered his escort to depart from the
inferno as soon as he had gathered about himself some semblance of composure. They had ridden relentlessly to get as far as
possible from the blazing heat that still burned away at Rwiordes’ soul. Even the members of the escort showed clear
signs of remorse for the fate that they had been party to meting out to the
women and children of Coertol City.
Finally one of the rogues rode along
side of Rwiordes.
“We should stop for some sleep soon,
Sir,” he suggested.
Rwiordes nodded to him. It did not really matter how far they
travelled from the doomed city, its memory would haunt him forever. He knew that then, as surely as he had ever
known anything.
They camped in the vicinity of the
smoldering ruins of a farmhouse. The
thatch roof was burned away and the stones of the walls were blackened
by flames. Dragon fire. Rwiordes had come to recognize the reptiles’
distinctive traces. There was no sign of
anyone. Do doubt, postulated Rwiordes
(to himself) the Demon allowed the dragons to snack upon the inhabitants of the
meager estate. Such was his despicable
nature.
Rwiordes realized that he had to
escape, if escape was possible at all.
He had to attempt it. No longer
could he abide the Demon’s fearsome presence.
He knew that he had nothing to lose. He knew his fate if he rejoined the
Demon’s troop. With little difficulty, he convinced himself that he must make
his escape that night, for tomorrow they would catch up with the main
contingent of the Demon’s army.
A plan came to him. He ordered two of his “escorts” to stand
guard over the camp. He did his best to
pick the two men who appeared to be having the greatest difficulty staying
awake as they ate their meager dinner.
The chief of the escorts was not that bright an individual, as Rwiordes
had suspected. He paid no attention to Rwiordes’s choice for he was satisfied that
guards would be posted, and made no protest of the matter. He even appeared to drop his own level of
watchfulness as Rwiordes took charge.
Rwiordes counted on that reaction.
The Demon’s men knew well that Rwiordes was one of the fiend’s closest
associates. This association had, of
course, resulted in Rwiordes being looked upon with some trepidation
himself. After the nightmare of the
Coertol City inferno, Rwiordes acquired an additional fearful respect from his
escorts. He shuttered and sobbed as the anguish of the memory returned.
He lay some little distance from
their camp fire, huddled in his blankets, pretending to sleep, while keeping a
watchful eye on the two sentries. At
first they paced about the camp, hoping to stave off the exhaustion that pulled
at them. They wearied of that fairly
quickly. They sat themselves down close
to the fire, and attempted to keep each other awake by means of conversation.
Rwiordes watched and waited with a patience that surprised him. He knew that he must wait for the perfect
moment because he would only get one
chance. They had to fall asleep prior to
the next shift on the watch.
The two sentries fell asleep. After a few more minutes one of them began to
snore. That had to mean that they were
both asleep and that no one else was, or they would awaken the sleeping guard.
Now, it was time to act. He got up casually but speedily. Everyone was sound asleep. He walked away from the fire and headed in
the direction of the camp latrine (which was little more than a hole in the
ground), just in case someone might see him.
He was afraid to go near the horses, lest they should wake the sleeping
guards, so he was forced to leave on foot.
He stepped as lightly and as carefully as possible, endeavoring to make
as little noise as he could. From the
latrine he made his way across the fire-scorched field, cringing at every snap
of a twig. He barely thought to breathe.
When he placed two hundred yards
between himself and the camp site he ran.
Fear provided him with the energy he needed. With every foot fall he felt a little bit
more free. Free. He ran into the night; he wasn’t certain
where he was going as he slipped through the shadows. Away.
That was all that was on Rwiordes mind.
Free and Away. Yet part of his
mind would never lose that feeling of doom that tormented him. That part knew the Demon too well to think
escape from him could be that easy.
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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