Here and there, fallen by the wayside, human jetsam-people too exhausted to walk farther. Some held out their hands, pleading to those with wagons to take them up. Others, knowing what the answer would be, sat, staring about them with dull, fear-glazed eyes, waiting for their strength to return.
“Back to the woods,” said Rega, riding up beside Paithan. “It’s the only way. We know the paths. This time, we really do,” she added, flushing slightly.
“Smuggler’s Road,” slurred Roland, weaving in his saddle. “Yes, we know them.”
Paithan couldn’t move. He sat, staring. “All these humans, heading for Equilan. What will we do?”
“Paithan?”
“Yes, I’m coming.”
They left the broad trails of the moss plains, taking to the jungle traits. “Smuggler’s Road” was thin and twisting, difficult to traverse, but far less crowded. Paithan forced them to ride hard, driving their animals, driving themselves-cycle after cycle- until they dropped from exhaustion. Then they slept, often too tired to eat. The elf allowed them only a few hours before he had them up and traveling again. They met other people on the trails-people like themselves, living on society’s fringes, who were well acquainted with these dark and hidden paths. They, too, were fleeing sorinth. One of these, a human, stumbled into their camp, three cycles into their journey.
“Water,” he said, and collapsed.
Paithan fetched water. Rega lifted the man’s head, and held the drinking gourd to his lips. He was middle-aged, his face gray with fatigue.
“That’s better. Thanks.”
Some color returned to the sagging cheeks. He was able to sit up on his own, and let his head sink between his knees, drawing deep breaths.
“You’re welcome to rest here with us,” offered Rega. “Share our food.”
“Rest!” The man lifted his head, gazed at them in astonishment. Then he glanced around the jungle, shivering, and staggered to his feet. “No rest!” he muttered. “They’re behind me! Right behind me!”
His fear was palpable. Paithan jumped up, regarding the man in alarm.
“How far behind you?”
The man was fleeing the campsite, taking to the trail on legs that could barely support him. Paithan ran after him, caught hold of his arm.
“How far?”
The man shook his head. “A cycle. Not more.”
“A cycle!” Rega sucked her breath through her teeth.
“The man’s crazed,” muttered Roland. “You can’t believe him.”
“Griffith destroyed! Temcia burning! Lord Reginald, dead! I know.” The man ran a trembling hand through, grizzled hair. “I was one of his knights!”
Looking at the man more closely, they could see he was dressed in the quilted cotton undergarments worn beneath the tyro shell armor. It was no wonder they had not recognized it earlier. The fabric was ripped and stained with blood, hanging from the man’s body in tattered, filthy fragments.
“I got rid of it,” he said, his hands plucking at the cloth covering his chest. “The armor. It was too heavy and it didn’t do any good. They died in it. The fiends caught them and crushed them . . . arms wrapping around them. The armor cracked, blood . . . came out from between. Bones stuck through . . . and the screams . . .”
“Blessed Thillia!” Roland was white, shuddering.
“Shut him up!” Rega snapped at Paithan.
No one noticed Drugar, sitting alone as he always did, the slight, strange smile hidden by his beard.
“Do you know how I escaped?” The man clutched Paithan by the front of his tunic. The elf, glancing down, saw the man’s hand was dappled with splotches of reddish brown. “The others ran. I was … too scared! I was scared stiff!” The knight began to giggle. “Scared stiff! Couldn’t move. And the giants went right by me! Isn’t that funny! Scared stiff!” His laughter was shrill, unnerving. It ended in a choked cough. Roughly, he shoved Paithan backward, away from him.
“But now I can run. I’ve been running . . . three cycles. Not stop. Can’t stop.” He took a step forward, paused, turned and glared at them with red-rimmed, wild eyes. “They were supposed to come back!” he said angrily. “Have you seen them?”
“Who?”
“Supposed to come back and help us! Cowards. Bunch of damn, good-for-nothing cowards. Like me!” The knight laughed again. Shaking his head, he lurched off into the jungle.