Chapter 3
Duncan hovered in a thick fog. He struggled to recall where he was or how he had gotten there. He willed his limbs into motion and more than once he thought he had risen to his feet only to discover that he was still on his back, blind and unable to move. His world was dark and stifling. The only things that reached him from beyond the miasma were a musty stench, rhythmic sounds of men marching, and, between their short marches, dull thuds as from a club striking something. Prison. He was in prison again. In Scotland, in his first prison years earlier, the guards had marched, then stopped frequently to open and shut heavy cell doors.
Nightmarish visions seized him. He was running, chased by furious, fantastical beasts with huge tusks and fangs. He stumbled into a bog, sinking i
