Koen’s voice was nearly imperceptible now.
The rain became heavy sheets of water that drenched Dalton and added to his misery, for only a miniscule amount of air was passing between Drox’s fingers and into Dalton’s nostrils. He struggled for each breath, and the water nearly closed off his precious air.
Just when he thought he would pass out, Drox dropped his hand from Dalton’s mouth and lifted him to his feet. Still a prisoner of the powerful grip, Dalton was dragged to Drox’s horse. His hands and feet were bound, his broken arm screaming in protest. A dirty rag served as a gag, and a hood was placed over his head. Then he was thrown facedown behind the horse’s saddle.
Drox mounted and steered his horse deeper into the forest, away from the road. With every strike of the horse’s hooves, pain exploded through Dalton’s body, and he screamed into his gag. Finally he could take it no more. Dalton sagged into unconsciousness on his journey of woe.
THE PRISON OF DISTAZO
Dalton faded in and out of consciousness as the Shadow Warrior took him deeper into the forest. To Dalton, it seemed they had traveled for an eternity At one point he heard other dark voices and roused to a sketchy consciousness. Drox dismounted, and no matter their destination, Dalton hoped that this was the end of their travels.
Dalton heard the snorting and pawing of many horses nearby.
“Rise up, Distazo,” he heard the voice of another powerful warrior say. “What manner of prisoner have you captured for me this time?”
“He is another young fool from the city of Salisburg, my lord. I’ve been working on him and many others for years.”
“Ah, I am pleased with your work. Which of my deceptions worked best with him?”
“He believed a little of all of them, my lord. Just enough to make him weak and vulnerable.”
“Good…good. That is always the most effective. And are you training more Vincero Knights?” the dark lord asked. The mere sound of hisvoice made Dalton shudder. If Drox was this dark lord’s servant, Dalton was glad he could not see an even darker face of evil.
“Continually, my lord. Before long, the havens won’t even recognize them.”
The dark lord laughed loudly, and other grim chortles joined him.
“Carry on, Distazo. One day I will come and visit your prison myself.”
“I would be honored, my lord,” Drox said. Minutes later he mounted up once again.
Dalton heard the sound of many horses galloping away. Then Drox moved onward, and Dalton once more fell into the blackness of his mind.
Dalton opened his eyes to a place of utter despair. He was lying in a heap on the floor of a dank, filthy prison cell. He moved to sit up and then screamed in agony against the pain that exploded from his left arm. He waited for the intensity of the pain to subside before trying to move again. This time he carefully cradled his arm with his right hand and then moved to sit up. Even then, the pain was nearly unbearable.
He took a deep breath and rested against the stone wall at the back of the cell. The throbbing in his head added to his misery. He took another breath and looked around. Only now did he realize that there was no door to his prison cell. At the front of the cell there were bars, but the door had been removed. The way stood open.
A prison cell with no door? How strange!
“Where am I?” he gasped into the blackness.
“You are in Drox’s prison,” a voice answered gently.
Startled, Dalton looked to his right to see a man a few years older than himself. Dressed in the garb of a knight, he sat on his haunches, staring at him through the iron bars from the adjacent cell. His tunicwas dirty and worn, his chain mail rusty. From the man’s accent, Dalton guessed he was from the far northern region of the kingdom.
“Who are—”
“Shh!” The man held his finger to his lips and pointed toward the front of the prison cells.
Dalton made a monumental effort to scoot a few feet to the man and
The rain became heavy sheets of water that drenched Dalton and added to his misery, for only a miniscule amount of air was passing between Drox’s fingers and into Dalton’s nostrils. He struggled for each breath, and the water nearly closed off his precious air.
Just when he thought he would pass out, Drox dropped his hand from Dalton’s mouth and lifted him to his feet. Still a prisoner of the powerful grip, Dalton was dragged to Drox’s horse. His hands and feet were bound, his broken arm screaming in protest. A dirty rag served as a gag, and a hood was placed over his head. Then he was thrown facedown behind the horse’s saddle.
Drox mounted and steered his horse deeper into the forest, away from the road. With every strike of the horse’s hooves, pain exploded through Dalton’s body, and he screamed into his gag. Finally he could take it no more. Dalton sagged into unconsciousness on his journey of woe.
THE PRISON OF DISTAZO
Dalton faded in and out of consciousness as the Shadow Warrior took him deeper into the forest. To Dalton, it seemed they had traveled for an eternity At one point he heard other dark voices and roused to a sketchy consciousness. Drox dismounted, and no matter their destination, Dalton hoped that this was the end of their travels.
Dalton heard the snorting and pawing of many horses nearby.
“Rise up, Distazo,” he heard the voice of another powerful warrior say. “What manner of prisoner have you captured for me this time?”
“He is another young fool from the city of Salisburg, my lord. I’ve been working on him and many others for years.”
“Ah, I am pleased with your work. Which of my deceptions worked best with him?”
“He believed a little of all of them, my lord. Just enough to make him weak and vulnerable.”
“Good…good. That is always the most effective. And are you training more Vincero Knights?” the dark lord asked. The mere sound of hisvoice made Dalton shudder. If Drox was this dark lord’s servant, Dalton was glad he could not see an even darker face of evil.
“Continually, my lord. Before long, the havens won’t even recognize them.”
The dark lord laughed loudly, and other grim chortles joined him.
“Carry on, Distazo. One day I will come and visit your prison myself.”
“I would be honored, my lord,” Drox said. Minutes later he mounted up once again.
Dalton heard the sound of many horses galloping away. Then Drox moved onward, and Dalton once more fell into the blackness of his mind.
Dalton opened his eyes to a place of utter despair. He was lying in a heap on the floor of a dank, filthy prison cell. He moved to sit up and then screamed in agony against the pain that exploded from his left arm. He waited for the intensity of the pain to subside before trying to move again. This time he carefully cradled his arm with his right hand and then moved to sit up. Even then, the pain was nearly unbearable.
He took a deep breath and rested against the stone wall at the back of the cell. The throbbing in his head added to his misery. He took another breath and looked around. Only now did he realize that there was no door to his prison cell. At the front of the cell there were bars, but the door had been removed. The way stood open.
A prison cell with no door? How strange!
“Where am I?” he gasped into the blackness.
“You are in Drox’s prison,” a voice answered gently.
Startled, Dalton looked to his right to see a man a few years older than himself. Dressed in the garb of a knight, he sat on his haunches, staring at him through the iron bars from the adjacent cell. His tunicwas dirty and worn, his chain mail rusty. From the man’s accent, Dalton guessed he was from the far northern region of the kingdom.
“Who are—”
“Shh!” The man held his finger to his lips and pointed toward the front of the prison cells.
Dalton made a monumental effort to scoot a few feet to the man and
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