father’s sword. His stroke caught his enemy leaning too far forward in his saddle, and it was forceful enough to turn the spear earthward, where its sharp iron head grabbed a crack between two enormous road stones. The mount of the unfortunate bandit sped on, vaulting him from his saddle.
Loric watched the difficult landing the villain suffered and laughed wildly. “Hear me, all of Razor’s rabble!” he shouted. “Both my steed and my sword come at a high price.” He offered a final piece of advice to the flying spearman, yelling, “You should watch what you’re doing with that spear, scoundrel!”
Loric turned his attention back to the road before him. It was none too soon. Sunset was about to hurdle a crate littering the way. While the red stallion soared through his leap, Loric thought, That was close. However, as the steed descended, an overhanging tree branch loomed out of the stormy gray gloom. Loric ducked, but it was too late. The limb caught him full on the crown of his helmet and thrust him from his saddle. He toppled with a painful thump and rolled down the hillside with many a bump and crash.
Loric lay there for a moment, moaning from the aches in his body. He struggled to get up, but his head was spinning wildly. The battered traveler from Taeglin stubbornly staggered sideways before he fell to the earth with a thud. Everything went black, and he remembered nothing more.
Chapter Five
Healing Hands
Loric awoke with a shout and sat bolt upright. Thunder was rumbling in the air, sending a shiver down his spine. The deafening crack had been part of his vivid dream. Lightning brightened his world, exposed his blurry vision. The dim lantern rattled, as the table beneath it vibrated in unison with the sky. The spray of wind-driven rain against the sides of his canvas shelter intermingled with the steady pitter-patter that came from above him.
A band of armed outlaws had robbed him of pleasant dreams. In his nightmare, they had stopped him on the road and tried to rob him. Loric had resisted and fled. The villains had pursued him, getting closer and closer to him, until he woke.
The gaunt faces of those bandits were still clearly visible in his mind. Crooked, yellow teeth with breaks and gaps showed, while sounds of coarse laughter rang in his ears. The
overpowering odor of unclean bodies lingered in his nostrils. Twisted grimaces and sneers replaced laughter and grins. Loric shivered.
Was it a dream? Loric wondered. Was it real? Did villains actually pursue me? Loric staggered down that trail of thoughts to his next question, Was I overtaken? If so, what comes next? Certainly, the rogues would have killed me, or at the least, they would have bound me, he decided. Yet there were no cords about his ankles or wrists. Where am I? Loric knew outlaws had chased him. He could not make the fragments of information buzzing inside his head fit a complete and accurate account of what had happened to him, where he was or how he had arrived at that place.
Loric’s head swam. He tried to make it stop long enough to take in his surroundings. Blurry vision thwarted him. Rubbing his eyes did not bring his hazy world into focus. Loric was beginning to realize that his problem was not an effect of sleepiness or too much sleep when horrendous pain shot through his skull. He cried out and clutched at his temples with trembling hands. The ache between his ears had been with him since waking. The dull boom had steadily intensified to new heights of torture. Loric moaned. His enfeebled body pushed the sound out as a whimper. Why do I feel-? Loric’s thought somehow navigated its way through his tormented cranium, only to be shot down by a dart of piercing anguish before he could complete his question.
“Lie back,” murmured a lovely voice with a strange accent. “Lie back. You are safe here, but you need your rest.” As the woman spoke, she pressed small, nervous hands to his bare shoulders to ease him down.
Loric
Loric watched the difficult landing the villain suffered and laughed wildly. “Hear me, all of Razor’s rabble!” he shouted. “Both my steed and my sword come at a high price.” He offered a final piece of advice to the flying spearman, yelling, “You should watch what you’re doing with that spear, scoundrel!”
Loric turned his attention back to the road before him. It was none too soon. Sunset was about to hurdle a crate littering the way. While the red stallion soared through his leap, Loric thought, That was close. However, as the steed descended, an overhanging tree branch loomed out of the stormy gray gloom. Loric ducked, but it was too late. The limb caught him full on the crown of his helmet and thrust him from his saddle. He toppled with a painful thump and rolled down the hillside with many a bump and crash.
Loric lay there for a moment, moaning from the aches in his body. He struggled to get up, but his head was spinning wildly. The battered traveler from Taeglin stubbornly staggered sideways before he fell to the earth with a thud. Everything went black, and he remembered nothing more.
Chapter Five
Healing Hands
Loric awoke with a shout and sat bolt upright. Thunder was rumbling in the air, sending a shiver down his spine. The deafening crack had been part of his vivid dream. Lightning brightened his world, exposed his blurry vision. The dim lantern rattled, as the table beneath it vibrated in unison with the sky. The spray of wind-driven rain against the sides of his canvas shelter intermingled with the steady pitter-patter that came from above him.
A band of armed outlaws had robbed him of pleasant dreams. In his nightmare, they had stopped him on the road and tried to rob him. Loric had resisted and fled. The villains had pursued him, getting closer and closer to him, until he woke.
The gaunt faces of those bandits were still clearly visible in his mind. Crooked, yellow teeth with breaks and gaps showed, while sounds of coarse laughter rang in his ears. The
overpowering odor of unclean bodies lingered in his nostrils. Twisted grimaces and sneers replaced laughter and grins. Loric shivered.
Was it a dream? Loric wondered. Was it real? Did villains actually pursue me? Loric staggered down that trail of thoughts to his next question, Was I overtaken? If so, what comes next? Certainly, the rogues would have killed me, or at the least, they would have bound me, he decided. Yet there were no cords about his ankles or wrists. Where am I? Loric knew outlaws had chased him. He could not make the fragments of information buzzing inside his head fit a complete and accurate account of what had happened to him, where he was or how he had arrived at that place.
Loric’s head swam. He tried to make it stop long enough to take in his surroundings. Blurry vision thwarted him. Rubbing his eyes did not bring his hazy world into focus. Loric was beginning to realize that his problem was not an effect of sleepiness or too much sleep when horrendous pain shot through his skull. He cried out and clutched at his temples with trembling hands. The ache between his ears had been with him since waking. The dull boom had steadily intensified to new heights of torture. Loric moaned. His enfeebled body pushed the sound out as a whimper. Why do I feel-? Loric’s thought somehow navigated its way through his tormented cranium, only to be shot down by a dart of piercing anguish before he could complete his question.
“Lie back,” murmured a lovely voice with a strange accent. “Lie back. You are safe here, but you need your rest.” As the woman spoke, she pressed small, nervous hands to his bare shoulders to ease him down.
Loric
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