The castle gate loomed in the distance. Keledrin stooped, barely strong enough to stand, peered through blood crusted eyes at the two figures who had left the gate. The dust of the of the uncultivated ground, was steadily aroused by their foot falls. One was carrying something in his hand which looked to Keledrin like an incense vessel suspended by chains ready to be swing into the open air to imbue the surroundings with a sweet scent. Keledrin though, knew better. There would be no incense in that urn. In the same hand the man steadied a stick of sorts that rested within the vessel.
The two men who had brought him out of the castle now passed the men who had left the gate. A very quiet snicker was heard from one as they intersected, …show more content…
Is it to further torture me? Let’s get this over with. Or are they that far away? Am I so out of my mind that I cannot judge the distance?’
There was plenty reason to be out of mind. The pain was excruciating. The new welts on his back still stung. The two fingers that had the nails ripped away, started to throb as the shock dissipated. Keledrin let out a soft groan, tried to keep his discomfort to himself lest he give his adversaries something more to snicker and laugh about.
‘No, wait, the urn, the urn, Oh, By the three!’.
As if with new purpose produced by broken resolve, he tried to run. His legs though so bruised and crippled from the torture would not respond. He could hear laughter behind him. Slowly he began putting one foot in front of the other, not unlike a baby taking first steps. He gasped. The pain was unbearable, yet, he still remained upright and worked to get his legs moving.
The men behind did not seem to care much that he was making a start to get away. They walked with a nonchalant nature that was unnerving to Keledrin, because he knew that they knew eventually they would overtake him. He tripped and fell face first into the hard ground. He inhaled the dust from the impact and let out a loud, gagging cough. Laughter again, only then it was