On The Run

3885 Words
Drathis shot up yelling, eyes wild, unable to see through the darkness around him, he started hyperventilating wondering if his eyes were even open at all, confusion and mixed images started racing through his mind, his heart was thudding in his ears allowing no solid thoughts, teeth chattering and a tremble started to run through him.  looking down, he noticed his arms and waist wrapped in cloths and linen, suddenly growing conscious of his aching body, he fell back down. Shadows and muffled voices were rushing around instantly, he got shivers down his spine as he tried to move, his body hardly responding. Wiggling his fingers first, he felt except soft fabric bound over his hand, no ready to face it all yet he kept his eyes closed trying to make sense of where he was.  The bed was much too soft to be his prison bed and his legs weren't responding, he tried to wiggle his toes but an overwhelming pain ran through him and he stopped trying to manage his breathing. Panic-stricken he bolted up again as everything came back to him. Did the creatures have him? Was he missing a leg? Whose voices had he heard? Was it the queen? A light suddenly appeared and he fell back down, pretending to still be unconscious, he wasn't ready yet to face it all, where was his sword? He felt around again but his hand only felt the stinging sensation of pins and needles. The scrapping against stone was heard till a match was lit, and sweat ran down his forehead pooling in the corner of his eyes. He tried to focus on the sounds but his blasted, thumping head, and racing heart wouldn’t let him, what were they doing?  A piece of scrupled paper was then lit and thrown into what sounded like a fireplace, he opened his eyes into blurred slips, blinking away the sweat; It was a fireplace, old and hand-made out of different sized stones with a row of pots and glass on top, the rest of the room was made out of the same stone leaving it quite cold. A bookcase filled up the whole left wall right to the ceiling, and a window, he was sure of it was behind him by the way a blue hue fell over his chest. One door curved at the top was in front of him and to the right a desk started to come into view as the firelight grew, it was empty except for a large bowl filled with blood-soaked cloths, his blood he just knew it. He gave up pretending, curiosity getting the better of him, who were these creatures? “He shouldn’t be awake!” One whispered “He’s too weak, he should still be unconscious for at least another week!” A second replied sounding rather annoyed. “I still stand by what I said, he should be dead! No one has ever lost so much blood and still lived.” This third voice was older and seemed to want nothing more than to be rid of everyone including him. His head was spinning, his back was stinging and his legs were mostly numb but he wanted answers, wanted to know where he was, and what they were doing with him?  Drathis shifted slightly with unease, he hated people touching him it gave him an odd sensation as if he could connect with their feelings. He had never gotten close to anyone before except for his brother but that was, for lack of better words a dead end. The old man’s warm touched killed him, Drathis shot him the deadliest look he had, which probably looked something like constipation. Another unwrapped white sheets from his waist down, while the third just stood there, handing them what they needed.  The person attending his arm was the old guy he had heard, his face was set with deep crinkles and a thick scar above his left eye, his hair was long, grey, and tied in an untidy bun, whatever ointment they were putting on his cuts had a vile smell to it. “Wha…” He tried to speak but his breath was short, his throat dry. “Who are you?” Drathis asked ignoring the cracking in his voice.  “Shhh son you are in no condition to speak; I have tried to heel you as best as I can.” The man said in a peculiar accent he couldn't identify.  Who were they? Where was he? What is wrong with my body? His thoughts were a mushy mess he tried to sit up again but the tremble running through him had him drained. Trying to keep conscious his fever started displaying images and his thoughts darted to the Gorgaknights. Where were they?! Drathis sat right up and looked straight into the old man's face, gripping his arm, knocking a bowl of water and cloths over, he became dizzy and blackness clouded his vision. “Gorga,” He said hoarsely, his throat on fire, letting go of the man he gripped onto the bed best he could the room began to spin, he needed answers! “Where…” Drathis cleared his sore throat and tried again, “Where is it? Did I kill it?” “Shhh, rest you are in safe hands, rest you need it, lots of it.” The other two next to him seemed to giggle at him, that was the last he heard before he passed out with exhaustion.  * * * * * Sometime later he woke up to the sound of high raises voices. He sat up gingerly recalling his previous failed attempts, rubbing his eyes he sighed scanning the room, a shirt was found folded neatly on a chair waiting for him, pulling it on he began his search for a weapon, something to defend himself with. “Where the hell is my sword?!” He grumbled under his breath bending to pick up the rod lying in the fireplace to poke the wood with, he stood back up groaning with pain and parts of his body stiff from it, held it tight in his hands ready to slice a head off with its hot tip. Making his way quietly down the narrow freezing hallway, he passed several rooms on either side keeping his senses open for any movement, he paused at what he was sure to be a baby’s room, his captures or rescuers had to be a family. why take him in what would that gain? if anything it put them at risk now too, the Black Maser queen Dimas had no such thing as mercy in her vocab. He followed the shouting and turned a corner to find where the uproar was being hosted and found a large, well-fed woman behind a wooden table, chopping away at vegetables throwing them into a pot behind her, she was shouting every known curse under the sun moving her knife all-around at the old man, as if he was her enemy.  “How would you know?? Have you visited his subconscious lately and said hello there, have you been followed by any of the queen’s devils lately? Huh? HAVE YOU?!” She bellowed at him pointing her knife. “Sue,” He sighed, “We don’t know where he came from or what…” he was stopped by a flying plate. “I don’t care if it is, they want they will eat us, break us like toothpicks do you under,” She stopped dead in her tracks and looked directly at Drathis. He took a deep breath and stepped into the light where they were leaving the weapon behind him against the wall, he knew they were talking about him but they were not a threat, he knew he could take them both on if they tried anything, the woman’s knife though. “I, woman,” He stopped trying to find the right words, how was he to address these humans, how much did they know? “I am sorry, yes, they are after me, they have been for a while,” He watched her as she turned pale dropping the knife and her pupils dilating, but he continued, they needed to know “I, I have killed three of them, more than any man,”  She fainted. He thought she might, he found it funny how people would complain about things they didn’t understand, demand answers, but as soon as they were shown the truth, they couldn’t handle it. “BRET! Get in here.”  Drathis spun around tensing, he had forgotten there was a third, he grabbed the rod and backed into a corner as footsteps came rushing in, it had to be the man’s son, same long hair in a messy bun, yet this Bret stood at least a head taller than Drathis with huge, light blue eyes, unlike Drathis’s emerald ones. Bret was shocked to see him there and even more so to see his father over his mother; his face went from white to red in a matter of seconds, and Drathis could see the accusation building up.  “What did you do to her? Hey? You low life!” He yelled fuming towards Drathis ready to grab and throw him out. Him a low life? They obviously didn’t inspect him properly. “Don’t touch me!” Drathis warned hissing through his teeth, startled by the power in the threat Bret hesitated looking back to his father. “She just, just fainted son, fetch some water,” The old man said not taking his eyes off Drathis, he felt the stare but didn’t dare look into them, he didn’t feel guilty that she had fainted, her high-pitched chittering was driving him mad, he was thankful for the silence. If anything felt sorry for the poor fool waking up to the sound of that piercing squeal every morning.  The front door was right there, he could make it across the room out the door in a matter of seconds. The old man got up locking the door facing Drathis, as if he could read his mind. He could toss them aside like rag dolls if it came to that, but he stood his ground, there was no need for more death at the moment not yet anyways.  He turned to face the hallway he had come through, perhaps he could jump through the window of the room, or… His thoughts were interrupted by Bret walking past him, standing in the hallway entrance locking his arms over his chest. Drathis snorted as if that would stop him. “Son,” The old man began talking to Drathis, Drathis turned to face him clenching his jaw muscles the one side still hurt a bit, just another ache to add to the list of cramps his body was still experiencing.  “Son, come sit down, relax we are not here to harm you.” Drathis stared at him not moving an inch. “You no father of mine.” The father and son looked at each other, the wife was now sitting on a chair staring at them. “Son, urm lad, we just want to help, and know what happened,” The old man said trying not to shake his voice. He knew it! They wanted answers he can’t give, information that could kill them, put them in danger, being there was already signing their gravestones “Uhm… lad what’s your name?” The old man interpreted his thoughts. “What’s yours?” “Why is that important?” “Why is mine?” “Because I saved your life!” He half-shouted the last words defensively. “What you want a thanks? I didn’t ask you to,” “But I did! The least you could repay me with is a name!” “So now I’m in your debt? It that it?” He stared him down, don’t ever think you can rule me, old man. “Drathis”  “Drayathis? Peculiar, nice name, uhm” He cleared his throat as if at a loss for words. “Your ascent is not from around here, are you running away? Are you in trouble?” He continued questioning.  “No. I’m alone, and yes I am running but, not exactly from anything that resembles a home.” He sighed lowering his head at the same time he started lowering his rod, imagining the wife going pale again, he swallowed a smile. “So, uhm you are in trouble then?” Bret asked curiously. “Yeah, you could say that.” He looked down gesturing to his cut arms still wrapped up. Obviously, he was in danger would the queen send out her favored creatures for a vegetable thief? Come on.  Just thinking it had him fuming, time was short, he was surprised they hadn’t found him again yet, he had to leave, had to put more distance. He dropped the rod and lifted his head slowly to see all three of them watching him.  “Drayathis, how did you get so badly hurt? Your lungs had collapsed and the blood you had lost looked,” “I know, I know!” Drathis interrupted keeping his eyes on the old man now. “I should be dead; luck I guess” He shrugged “No, no, no it’s not luck you a miracle child Drayathis,” “I’m not a child, and it's Drathis!” “What’s your age?” “None of your concern.” “But you are young?” “NONE OF YOUR CONCERN!!” “What then?” The old man asked ignoring his warning. Drathis sighed this guy didn’t give up. This was a waste of time, he needed to get out find that sword and go into hiding for a bit. “What exactly do you want?”  Drathis eventually asked. “Twenty?” “No” “Thirty?” “What? No!” “Twenty-five?” “You are frustrating me I have no time for this, I gotta get out of here find what’s mine,” His voice begun to rise. “Drathis!” The old man lost his curiosity and became very serious “You barely lived. You looked like ten or so devils had gotten a hold of you and ripped you to shreds and, and plus you were covered with ash, maggots, a sword and,” “Where is my sword?” “Uhm… In the church… I think” He looked for confirmation from his son who nodded. “Why? Why didn’t you keep it? It belongs to me, not to a bloody museum.” “The sword has a, some kind of a, curse.” “What do you mean?”  “A hunting team found you,” “What about my sword!” Drathis demanded clenching his jaw tighter, looking around the room for another escape root, he didn’t want to hurt the old man, but would if he had to. “The hunting team found you and called me I’m the mayor of this village.” “Great! Now the whole freaking village will know about me,” “Anyways” The old man continued ignoring him.  “Two men picked you up and another named Warren picked up your sword, but as he touched it, the men, said a bright red light flashed brighter than the sun and he dropped dead without a mark on him, then, we got a slave to go fetch it, the same happened to him so after a while, we picked it up with many cloths, that’s why your swords in,” He stopped seeing the confusion in Drathis eyes. “That’s, impossible!” Drathis said “It didn’t harm me; besides they possibly weren’t magi,” He bit his lip almost letting valuable information slip out again, he turned his head down aggravated with himself again. “I have to get out, you know more than you should already.” He lifted his head up and looked at Bret then the woman confused in her sitting place. It was late afternoon and the sun was setting, he felt tired, hungry, didn’t recall his last meal, and wished he could grab the carrot on the tabletop half chopped.  A shadow flew by the window faster than an average bird, Drathis tensed grabbing the rod, losing color, everyone looked at him as if he was insane.  “What is it, son?” The old man's brow furrowed.  “I’m not your blood! I thought I saw,” He shut his mouth as two more flew past, he knew what they were, he went paler than marble. “Get down! Now!” He hissed dropping onto his haunches “Get very low and listen to my every command or else die, either way, I don’t care.” He whispered at them threw his teeth in a hair-raising voice. “You are scaring us. We don’t need this,” The old man began loudly, Drathis without a second to waste raced up to him and hit him on the side of the neck catching the limp body.  He spoke quickly before anyone else objected, “You are in danger, if you talk, I will put you both to sleep as well and carry you both to safety, or I could leave you here for I honestly do not care for humans, but I believe in a life for a life.” He dragged the body away from the windows as the wife made a little squeak. “So shut the bloody hell up and obey me!” He snapped to both Bret and the wife, he threw the old guy over his shoulder and looked around, “They close, have you got an underground passage that leads us anywhere close to the church?” Without a moment’s thought, the two white faces scrambled to a trap door, under a carpet by the lounge fireplace, and jumped down wordlessly starting to run through it, Drathis couldn’t help but grin at their cooperation. He jumped in last closing the door and carrying on after them, the floor and walls were damp and slippery, it was colder than in the house but was grateful this time around, the coldness kept him alert. Glass shattering and the snapping of wood echoed down towards them, thankfully they would never fit down the trap door. After what felt like a lifetime of running the two had grown tired, Drathis kept pushing them passing many smaller tunnels obviously leading off to other homes, until they finally reached a dead-end. Drathis tensed again, he hated closed-in areas only having one way to get out, perhaps prison did that to a man. The wife looked behind them to the wall and begun to rap her knuckles against the wall in a coded pattern. After a few moments, the wall opened and a priest gave a helping hand to them. “Come in, come in.” The priest beckoned. “Lock every door and widow now!” Drathis commanded dropping the old man on a long chair racing to a window shutting them faster each time. They did as they were told except the priest who knelt down to check the unconscious man. Drathis turned to the priest, each sound they made echoed through the place, its roof seemed to touch the sky with paintings of angels on clouds. “Where's my sword?”  “Your? Sword?” The priest asked confused. “I don’t have time for this!” Drathis couldn’t believe they were so clueless  “The sword that killed, uhm…. Warren!” Drathis said proudly remembering the poor corpse's name. “Oh. It’s in the glass cabinet under the left-wing.”  “Son that sword kills!” The priest warned as Drathis broke the glass mumbling something about sons and grabbed the sword, the priest was about to ask what he said when without warning, a humming sound wave exploded from the sword as Drathis touched it shattering every window, sending all three of the humans off their feet, some chairs were even overthrown as a storm like effect erupted from the sword. Drathis stared at it in his hand in disbelief as his hair blew back, his eyes enlarged in amazement, the veins working from his right hand all over his body turned a bright white, he froze in position marveling at its power. The power erupting from it was out of this world, it made him feel complete, full of faith, capable to do anything even taken on the b***h of a queen! The light illuminating his veins vanished suddenly and he stood there panting, his hair wild, eyes fixed on the sword, he had the hugest, goofy smile stuck to his face. He remembered fighting over it with the queen’s men faintly, but the power exploding from the sword then was maroon, black, and a deep royal blue, never this! So much about this sword, he didn’t understand, what magic did it possed exactly. He heard a scream and turned his head sharply towards two creatures holding the woman in one claw around her waist, their attention was not on him for once, but instead on the humans, this was his chance! They should have been on guard; did he not warn them that they were in danger? He grabbed the priest and ducked out behind one of the wings, ran down a long corridor, turned into the first room and pushed the priest against the wall. “I don’t want to hurt you but I will if that’s what it takes to stay alive, now do not speak unless in a whisper, or you to will end up like them!” Drathis pointed out the door meaning the boy and wife still holding the priest up, they listened as more screams echoed through. “How do I get out? Where can I get a horse?” He demanded in a low deep whisper; his dark green eyes looking right through the ghost-faced priest. “Outside, the back yard three more doors down are two horses, belonging to men on patrol tomorrow.” The priest replied shaking, Drathis c****d his head sideways listening for them, wondering if the priest was telling the truth, but all that was heard were the Gorgaknights bumping and bashing into everything to find him. Thankfully again, the passage was too large for them to fit through, but the sounds they made, could rattle the strongest worrier in their boots.
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