The Taleweaver

Escape, part two

Angry yells and the sound of fighting disturbed the sinister procession. To Arthur the disturbance was all too welcome. Members of their escort broke away to meet whatever was attacking the castle, but to his dismay most of the armed men kept their discipline and stayed close.

Arthur swore between gritted teeth. There had to be a way. He searched for the source of the sound of fighting, but it had to be in another part of the castle. It did, however, sound like it was coming closer.

"What's happening?" Chaijrild asked.

A glimmer of hope glistened in her eyes. So, she'd come to the same conclusion. Good, then she would at least be a little bit prepared if a chance to escape materialized.

"I don't know. Better than waiting."

"Should we run?"

Arthur gave their guards a worried look, but it didn't seem any of them understood what they were saying. He looked at Gring and was met by what had to be a smile. She must have changed something with the magic that allowed him to speak with people no matter what languages they knew.

"Not now," Arthur said turning to Chaijrild again. "Just be ready to follow me later." If there is a later.

He couldn't afford to trash her hopes at this moment. She needed to believe.

Sudden pain of hunger knifed him. A good sign. If he was able to ache for food again he might be able to act as well. Too much time spent in apathy. It was more painful to feel afraid, but with pain came the urge to stay alive. He started to search for opportunities. Nothing.

Something itched at his armpit and he scratched it.

My gun? No, they took it.

He thought of bringing out his wallet to bribe his captors, but they probably didn't take federation money here. The absurdity of the thought brought a crooked smile to his lips while he fingered his waist pocket - and then it hit him.

Bloody hell, that's not my wallet!

He groped under his jacket. He still had his gun. How? He was certain they'd been disarmed, but he admitted his memories of the last days weren't all too clear.

There should still be a few rounds left. Armed with artificial self confidence Arthur staggered along with the procession waiting for the first moment to add to the confusion he now clearly could hear was coming closer.