06-25-2009, 06:17 AM
1)
Rough hands grabbed his arms and drug him outside. Hallah still hadn't moved.
He wanted to fight, but he was so cold, so weak with fatigue and shock his struggles were useless. His mind in a hopeless haze, he let himself be dragged to the cliff near the encampment's edge. He thought he heard the men say they'd just toss the body over when they were finished so there'd be no festering corpse near camp.
One of them forced him to his knees and roughly pinned his arms behind him as the other drew his sword.
Alston raised his head and met the eyes of his executioner and told himself that soon he'd be joining those who'd died in Javon.
The arrow appears as if by magic, piercing the swordsman's throat. His eyes went wide as he dropped his weapon and clutched madly at his throat, making a horrible gurgling sound as blood flowed freely down his tunic. The other guard shoved Alston to the ground and drew his own blade a a second less-precise arrow thudded into his back.
He spun around, staggering, and tried to reach cover. As he did, a figure enshrouded in a grey-green hooded cloak from the treeline and charge at him full speed sword drawn.
The guard's cry of "Intruder!" was cut short, and there was blood. Lots of blood Alston would remember later, but at that moment, his survival instinct took over. He scrambled up and started to run for the trees and away from the fight and didn't look back.
Alston plunged deeper into the dark canopy of trees, not knowing where he was going or even caring. The thin layer of snow crunched under his feet as he charged on and it was only when the uneven ground sent him sprawling did he stop to catch his breath.
He didn't feel cold anymore, only numb. Where was he? Did it matter which direction he went any more? Should he go back for Hallah or try to find help? But where would he find help? Were the guards going to come after him? Was there someplace to hide? Thoughts buzzed through his head like frantic gnats.
Behind him, he started to hear the sounds of searchers. They were coming for him. Quickly he struggled to his feet and headed off in a quick jog looking around for a solid treebranch or something he could use as a weapon.
Suddenly, a gloved hand clamped over his mouth and dragged him into the shadow of a large oak. He tried to pull away, but he was still too spent to put up much of a fight.
"Shhh," a voice hissed in his ear.
Alston stopped struggling. This wasn't behavior of a guard. He nodded to show he understood.
"Good," the voice whispered. It was female, but unfamiliar. The grip released.
Alston turned to see a figure in dark leather armor and a grey-green hooded cloak obscuring their shape, almost hiding plenty of blades beneath.
Rough hands grabbed his arms and drug him outside. Hallah still hadn't moved.
He wanted to fight, but he was so cold, so weak with fatigue and shock his struggles were useless. His mind in a hopeless haze, he let himself be dragged to the cliff near the encampment's edge. He thought he heard the men say they'd just toss the body over when they were finished so there'd be no festering corpse near camp.
One of them forced him to his knees and roughly pinned his arms behind him as the other drew his sword.
Alston raised his head and met the eyes of his executioner and told himself that soon he'd be joining those who'd died in Javon.
The arrow appears as if by magic, piercing the swordsman's throat. His eyes went wide as he dropped his weapon and clutched madly at his throat, making a horrible gurgling sound as blood flowed freely down his tunic. The other guard shoved Alston to the ground and drew his own blade a a second less-precise arrow thudded into his back.
He spun around, staggering, and tried to reach cover. As he did, a figure enshrouded in a grey-green hooded cloak from the treeline and charge at him full speed sword drawn.
The guard's cry of "Intruder!" was cut short, and there was blood. Lots of blood Alston would remember later, but at that moment, his survival instinct took over. He scrambled up and started to run for the trees and away from the fight and didn't look back.
Alston plunged deeper into the dark canopy of trees, not knowing where he was going or even caring. The thin layer of snow crunched under his feet as he charged on and it was only when the uneven ground sent him sprawling did he stop to catch his breath.
He didn't feel cold anymore, only numb. Where was he? Did it matter which direction he went any more? Should he go back for Hallah or try to find help? But where would he find help? Were the guards going to come after him? Was there someplace to hide? Thoughts buzzed through his head like frantic gnats.
Behind him, he started to hear the sounds of searchers. They were coming for him. Quickly he struggled to his feet and headed off in a quick jog looking around for a solid treebranch or something he could use as a weapon.
Suddenly, a gloved hand clamped over his mouth and dragged him into the shadow of a large oak. He tried to pull away, but he was still too spent to put up much of a fight.
"Shhh," a voice hissed in his ear.
Alston stopped struggling. This wasn't behavior of a guard. He nodded to show he understood.
"Good," the voice whispered. It was female, but unfamiliar. The grip released.
Alston turned to see a figure in dark leather armor and a grey-green hooded cloak obscuring their shape, almost hiding plenty of blades beneath.