The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Heaven's Light

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Leaving the hapless, great city bare, looted and burnt, Dracon and his vast band forced through the foggy farmlands, directly along the dirt trade path.

He was going to find her. He will get her back and that unfortunate cur who took her was going to pay!

He kicked his horse, rendering it to gallop even faster and his crew tried to keep up with their ring leader. Feeling no pang of guilt of destroying such an innocent city, Salazar only had one person on his mind. The Bell ringer of Notre Dame.

He destroyed an entire army, looted a city and yet, he found himself disappointed.

The stolen hier he swore to keep for ransom had got away. He vowed to make sure that she remained unseen and believed to be dead. The final and last born of the royal family was to be kept secret from France until the correct timing came to be, but now the plot was beginning to fall downhill.

Dracon took care of the dunderheaded brigand who allowed her to get away that night. Because of that, that girl had witnesses carting her around to avoid him.

A swampy hill was where he stopped his horse. Dracon saw the flat lands of poor farms and wilderness reaching as far as the eye could see. He had to get her damn hide back well and unharmed in order to fulfill the deal he made with an ancient gypsy.

"Orders, sir." suggested one of his loyal men.

Dracon seemed to have been in deep reminince for a moment. "Take several scouts and over search the farmland. I know they had gone this direction."

Saying nothing, the brigand next to him rode away to carry out the order.

*

It had begun to rain hard, making the smoky air clean, but foggy. Only one light lit the dinginess.

Where he had found the Captain, they were stuck with the issue that Achilles had been stabbed through the shoulder. Blood gathered down into the murky puddles as Pheobus boldly took a dagger out, grimacing at the thought at what he had to do.

Though his arm injured, he was willing to do this himself.

"Stand back, John." he suggested."He going to start kicking."

His ward did so, respectfully.

Pheobus took a breath and held it in as he partially stabbed the dagger slightly into Achilles' shoulder. The stallion cried out loudly as his rider ripped through his flesh in order to get that spear out safely. He swung his hoofs about and kicked wildly and soon Pheobus had finished the torture. His poor, injured horse was free of that spear.

"That's a good boy..." calmed Pheobus, pressing Achilles to lay his head back down. "It's all right now."

Achilles huffed and breathed hard but he had trust in his rider.

"All right, John. Hand me the brand."

Kristoff carefully and frightfully took the handle of a broken livestock brand and slowly handed the burning hot iron to the Captain. Achilles' injury would prove fatal if it stayed open and vulnerable, so burning it closed and free from the air would heal it much faster. "Easy, boy. Easy."

Achilles saw the bright redness of the iron and jerked to try to stand, but he couldn't.

"Sssh..."

John tended to his mare as the torment came to a peaceful end.

*

"That wasn't love, it was cunning! She's a gypsy! Gypsies aren't capable of real love! Think, boy! Think of your mother!"