for such little pain. Much of his body was numb, probably
permanently. Blood still trickled from a few wounds.
Garrick purposely turned his mind to attaining a weapon of
some sort.
“Ssaras, present him with an appropriate toy.”
Scurrying to a junk pile of Garrick’s own equipment,
the draconian pulled out the chipped, dirty sword. In a
mockery of the knights, the creature held it high and waved
it three times, hissing the whole while. Krynos smirked and
motioned the torturer to get on with things.
Ssaras dragged the sword over to Garrick and dropped it
by the knight’s feet. Garrick bent down slowly and retrieved
it, each movement sending shocks through his system. If not
for the medallion still hidden under his tunic, he would have
given in to his pain. Only the warmth and strength it
provided kept him going.
With the shadow of a smile, General Krynos pulled out
his own weapon. It was a tremendous broadsword which
many men would have had to handle with both hands. The
general swung it around easily with only one. He saluted
Garrick. “Are you ready?”
In answer, the knight held his sword before him and
tested its balance. It was like holding an old friend.
Somewhere to the side, by the tent entrance, Ssaras hissed
displeasure.
“Ready.”
The look of amusement left the face of General Krynos
the moment he saw the sword coming toward him. He was
barely able to block the blow. Cursing silently, he backed
away to regain his balance. Garrick followed through,
giving his larger opponent little time to do anything but
defend. The draconian jumped up and down, hissing all the
time. Sharp claws continually stroked the hilt of the knife
that the creature always kept tucked in its belt for when a
prisoner broke loose. The draconian’s greatest fear was not
knowing whether its master would approve of such
initiative or cut off his servant’s head.
Krynos was bleeding from three minor wounds, but
Garrick’s attack was slowing. The general was able to
breathe and think now. The tide was turning swiftly.
All his strength left Garrick’s arm with a suddenness that
surprised both fighters. The knight’s sword went flying
toward the tent entrance, where an alert Ssaras was barely
able to leap aside before the blade buried itself in the spot
where the draconian had just been standing. Garrick blinked
and let his hand fall to his side. Krynos moved in to finish
the fight and his opponent with one thrust.
Garrick fell to the ground, untouched by the general’s
blade.
Krynos stood there, staring at the body. The torturer
rushed over and turned the knight face up. The reptilian face
moved to within an inch of Garrick’s. After a quick
examination, the draconian looked up at his lord.
“He is dead. His wounds must have been more than he
could stand.”
“It’s a wonder he lived through what he did.” The
general sheathed his weapon. “He was half-dead when the
patrol brought him in. I wonder why.”
“What shall I do with him, master?”
“Bury him. He deserves that much – fool that he was.”
“As you command.” The draconian left the tent.
General Krynos, late of Culthairai, studied the figure
sprawled before him and sighed. He had been hoping for
much more from the knight. The war had grown dull.
The four soldiers that buried Garrick, Knight of
Solamnia, were half-asleep. Most of them were sweating
profusely, despite the cool breeze blowing. One had to be
excused to seek out a cleric after he nearly fell into the hole.
The remaining three continued their work, trying to finish
the job quickly and get back to more important things, like
their card game. In their haste, not one of them happened to
notice the medallion which slipped out of hiding when the
corpse was tossed in. Even as they buried it with the body,
the medallion seemed to glow brighter and brighter, despite
the lack of any real light.
*****
On the following morning, the army did not move. A
great number of soldiers complained about heat and great
thirst. Most of them had become bedridden. The number of
ill grew quickly.