I promise.” The guard gave him a smile that revealed just how much he enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering on those who were smaller and weaker than him. “Hiding in a forest, naked, begging for your life.” “You must feel so pathetic right now,” the tall guard sneered. The guards swiftly found him, and he scrambled backward until he hit the tree’s thick trunk.

As he fled, he tripped on the tangled roots of a large oak tree and fell, hard, to the ground. They drew closer, and he stumbled away from his hiding spot. I want his blood on my blade before we do anything else.” Strays can lead to more trouble, and more strays. “Maybe he’s the one who set the fire back there. “Maybe we should let him go,” the shorter guard said, his previous bravado vanishing as fear entered his voice. How long would it take before he got his strength back? He’d already waited an eternity to be free. The guards ventured closer, whacking at the meager foliage with their swords. Its branches scratched his sensitive skin, but he stayed quiet and still. The forest was sparse, but the young man found a dry bush to hide behind. “I don’t give a damn what the king would prefer. “You’d rather have your throat cut by a rebel back there?” the short guard said. “We don’t have time to chase after one runaway slave.” The tall guard spoke loud enough to be heard above the noise of battle. Muscles screaming, he staggered toward the forest line. He pushed himself up to his feet, his legs as weak as a newborn colt’s. The tall guard brought his blade down hard, but the young man managed to roll out of its way just in time. “You won’t need clothes when you’re dead. “Doesn’t matter,” the tall guard snapped. “Forget your clothes somewhere, boy?” the taller guard said. “I’m no slave.” His voice cracked, and his throat felt as dry and brittle as the ground beneath him. “What do we have here?” the short one said.

Two men-one short, one tall, both wearing red guard uniforms-approached him, their swords drawn. It was dry and sparse and dying, but it offered more protection than his exposed position by the battleground. To his left, about fifty paces away, was a forest. He was at the edge of a camp that was currently under siege. He failed, his body screaming from the effort.Īs his vision cleared he took a better look around. He pressed his hands against the dry earth, flames licking at his bare skin, and tried forcing himself to his feet. It was the taste of blood that had awoken him. He tasted the copper tang of the blood that had sunk into the ground. He could smell the acrid scents of both fear and hate from those who fought for their lives. The sharp cries of the dying sliced through the cool early morning breeze. Swords clashed nearby in a violent battle in the shadow of the mountains. The young man woke up surrounded by fire and chaos.

Gathering darkness morgan rhodes