Dragonworld: The Drive For Power

Part 4: Rolling The Dice

Unicorn lands

The imaginary dragon accompanied him all through the night. It wasn't until the deepest hours that sleep finally took him. At dawn, the unforgiving light forced him from his slumber. He had no choice. He had to move.

This was unknown territory. Enemy clan lands. The slightest mistake could cost him his life. No warnings. No forgiveness.

The Unicorn clan's hatred for the Dragon clan ran deep, an ancestral feud spanning generations. There was no love lost between the two. 

The old blood never cooled. Every border skirmish, every insult, every vanished scout had carved the rift deeper. Even now, stepping over that invisible line felt like trespassing into a land soaked in old wounds and bitter memories.

Pafe grew up hearing those tales. Stories of men who'd crossed into enemy lands and never returned. Whispers of brutal ambushes and silent assassinations under the cover of night. Now, they felt all too real.

Each shadow flickering in the distance got his heart racing, pounding ever faster. Every sound seemed magnified, every whisper of wind against the leaves a reminder of how easily a life could be snuffed out. He had to tread carefully.

Yet, the determination was there. He would make it through, or die trying. No other options were left.

The road should be near, he thought to himself, curling past the last jagged stones and dragging itself toward Dragon lands. Few would be on it now. It would lead him south, out of Unicorn territory. 

He counted the paces, followed the trees, hoping his orienteering classes hadn't been a waste.

The forest clawed at him. Silent. Watching.

His mind kept looking at different possibilities. His breath matched his pace. First, he concentrated on the rhythm, but later the panting started. 

Then, it opened. Just like that. The road. Right there.

"I'll be damned," he muttered, catching his breath. 

He looked both ways. Empty. Good.

For once, it felt like something might actually go right.

Then, suddenly his ears perked up. He heard noises. It was the sounds of armor wringing, of people marching. He had to hide.

He spotted a cluster of thick bushes at the edge of the forest. Surrounded by tall trees, this seemed like the best spot for remaining unseen.

Suddenly, Pafe's heart was racing. It felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. His mind went into overdrive. To calm himself down, he focused on breathing in and out, slowly and deeply. 

Not even a peep was permitted. Otherwise, he was a dead-man. 

From beneath the overgrowth, he spotted a small group of soldiers, pikes slung over their shoulders as they patrolled the road.

They passed quickly. Even then, Pafe remained in his hiding spot for a while longer after ceasing to hear their footsteps.

It would be quite dangerous for him to take the road. The path was largely empty this time of year, but you could never be sure. Sometimes merchants would roll by, their carts creaking with goods, or locals would hurry between villages. Now and then, a foot patrol might appear, guarding what after all was a border territory. 

Pafe decided to walk through the forest instead, mirroring the road from a distance. This way, he could avoid any potentially messy encounters.

After hours of marching, he had fallen into a steady rhythm. It was almost peaceful, clearing his mind of thought.