[Envinyatar]

Chaos had broken out among the slaves. There were cries raised that the Hunters were approaching. ‘No time now for those herbs, Tenzin. Grab your pack and get to your horse.’

Rhûnnaro took to his own mount and surveyed the increasingly disordered scene. Of the seven slaves, two were missing. The rest were in an escalating state of panic, as they began running without direction from the camp. His voice was tight and low, barely audible over the cries of the slaves. ‘We cannot stay to be caught by Ekatran and his madmen. We will head further west into the foothills. Perhaps the girl . . . Fionel . . . can get herself and the others to us.’ He planted the sword she had used earlier upright in the ground. ‘She may have need of this,’ he thought to himself.

Tenzin had brought round his horse, and stood ready to mount up. He paused, pulling his own blade from the sheath at his belt. ‘What about him? Shall I kill him?’

‘Leave him. Let’s go.’

The two rode quickly from the clearing and into the cover of the trees, passing several wild-eyed slaves. One slave, the lone man, limped slowly along as they drew up on him. His right side dragged, and he was bent and tired from the long distance they had already come.

Rhûnnaro pulled his horse beside him and the man halted in his limping advance, looking up into the eyes of the man from Rhûn with hazel eyes quiet and sad, but without fear. An instant of understanding passed between the two men, and Rhûnnaro reached down his hand to grasp the other’s forearm. Moments later, Turos was mounted behind him.

‘Stay quiet. And grasp my belt on either side. We travel quickly.’

[ May 29, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]