Way of The Pride

21| The Attack II

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The morning of the attack
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He was trapped in a dark place. It smelled of mud and the sharp tang of stone. The ground felt cold and hard on his back and the back of his head ached where he had been hit. He vividly remembered falling to the ground and then waking in this strange place with no idea where he was.

The pain was everywhere especially around his wrists and ankles. He had been trying to loosen the restraints but his fingers could not reach the knots. Whoever threw him in this dark hole did a good job of tying him up. He doubted the Mystics had any idea how to work a rope. This was the work of Anene.

He wondered why the Prince did not kill him right away. It was easier than sparing his life. Could he have other plans in mind? It has been long since he regained consciousness. How much time has passed?

To make matters worse he did not know what became of Onochie or if he had been killed. Anene was no doubt making his way to Isimir with his evil army.

A slew of curses left his lips as he failed at another attempt to loosen the knots. Since his fingers were not working he had to resort to other means. He rolled over on the ground hoping to find something to balance on, a wall. Nothing but the disappointing chill of the flat ground kissed his bare back so he rolled over to his left side. After several trials and grunting his shoulder finally hit something hard, the edge of a wall.

Thank the goddess!

With his legs pressed to his chest and his back against the wall he slowly struggled to move his body into a sitting position. Now that his legs were within reach of his fingers, he began to work on the bindings. The texture of the rope felt like it was woven with raffia and fortunately for him that meant the knots can be released one strand at a time.

He poured every bit of his strength into removing those cursed strands, cursing in frustration when one of the knots got tangled. With one mighty pull the rope tore apart freeing his legs.

Yes!

A breath of relief escaped from him as he quickly set to removing the ones on his wrists. Time was wasting and he did not know whether it was day or night. Anene already had a head start. The Palace was without its Head Guard and the Kingdom without its Head Warrior.

The King would have no choice but to step up and lead the war making him the target of the Mystics attack. He did not doubt the strength of his King but he was old and that would be used against him. And when that happens, Isimir shall fall.

No! He can not let that happen. Not while he lives.

Brimming with resolve, he began to gnaw and peel at the rope with urgency. Even when his tongue bled he did not stop. His efforts finally bore fruits as the rope loosened.

Now he had to find a way out of this place.

Using the wall for support he slowly got up on his feet. Which way should he go? The path ahead or the one behind him? He chose to move ahead. The cold, solid wall was the only thing grounding him as he stumbled through the dark.

He walked for a while, tripping over his feet on several occasions, still he continued in the hopes of finding a light in his dark prison. He quickly realized he was in a cave and the fact that he breathed still meant air was coming in somewhere. He just had to find it.

A chilling sound echoed through the cave bringing him to a halt. What was that?

His ears strained to hear the sound hoping it was not some dangerous animal wandering about. There it was, something was scratching against the wall. The fact that he could feel the vibrations on the wall meant it was close.