The waiting was unbearable. It was the work of chimes to go around their rough, ravaged camp and finish off those pitifully-squealing little monsters that were left, sharp, quick stabs of his gladius ending their struggles. It took only a little longer to limp to his tent and patch up as best he could the dozen cuts, slices, bites and tears their sharp little mouth and wings had made.
Not that it helped Razkar much. He slumped to his knees, legs weak from the exertion, mind trying to work out just how much blood he had lost...
Too much, his body told him sternly, and he felt fresh blossoms of pain whenever he moved, and you've not done your older wounds much good, either.
Razkar grunted to himself, shrugging even without an audience. Well, tough shit. Needs must.
But as he warmed himself by the fire, feeling his wounds start to numb behind their hasty bandages, he was aware that time was passing... without a return. He didn't know how long he knelt there, but it soon became apparent that it was too long. There were fewer shouts or squeals from the darkness, and that could be both good or ill.
But if it's good, why hasn't he returned?
Razkar stared past the bonfire and into the dark. The Sea of Grass was not a place to be traversed at night. The myriad of threats within it were hard enough to defend against by the light of day. At night? Predators ruled it, and could strike from endless shadows.
But he has not returned...
Finally the Myrian growled savagely and hauled himself upright, walking stiffly to Trikken.
"Petch, damn and bugger it!"
It took him four attempts to get onto the horse. The first two because the spooked mount was still sore from his own wounds, the last two because Razkar was hardly in great shape, either. At the last he clambered and hauled himself into the saddle as much as he jumped, scaling the horse like a cliff face. Once he sat straight he leaned down and patted the bloody mane, whispering softly.
"You have done much tonight, friend... but we are not done yet."
And with that he wheeled the horse in the direction Riaris had taken, away from the fire. It would burn well enough without him, and that was essential. He would need a light to guide by, a way to return... and he would not be gone for long.
Shadows swallowed him, and the fire dimmed behind him. He spurred the horse clumsily into a shallow gallop, not too fast, but fast enough they couldn't easily be bought down. He filled his right hand with his gladius and wet his lips, filled his lungs-
"RI-AH-RIS!" He paused, letting the echo of his bellow dissipate into the sky, waiting for... nothing. The Myrian cried out again. "RI-AH-RIS!"
Horse and man ventured further into the darkness, screaming at the shadows, both hoping in their own ways for an answer.
Not that it helped Razkar much. He slumped to his knees, legs weak from the exertion, mind trying to work out just how much blood he had lost...
Too much, his body told him sternly, and he felt fresh blossoms of pain whenever he moved, and you've not done your older wounds much good, either.
Razkar grunted to himself, shrugging even without an audience. Well, tough shit. Needs must.
But as he warmed himself by the fire, feeling his wounds start to numb behind their hasty bandages, he was aware that time was passing... without a return. He didn't know how long he knelt there, but it soon became apparent that it was too long. There were fewer shouts or squeals from the darkness, and that could be both good or ill.
But if it's good, why hasn't he returned?
Razkar stared past the bonfire and into the dark. The Sea of Grass was not a place to be traversed at night. The myriad of threats within it were hard enough to defend against by the light of day. At night? Predators ruled it, and could strike from endless shadows.
But he has not returned...
Finally the Myrian growled savagely and hauled himself upright, walking stiffly to Trikken.
"Petch, damn and bugger it!"
It took him four attempts to get onto the horse. The first two because the spooked mount was still sore from his own wounds, the last two because Razkar was hardly in great shape, either. At the last he clambered and hauled himself into the saddle as much as he jumped, scaling the horse like a cliff face. Once he sat straight he leaned down and patted the bloody mane, whispering softly.
"You have done much tonight, friend... but we are not done yet."
And with that he wheeled the horse in the direction Riaris had taken, away from the fire. It would burn well enough without him, and that was essential. He would need a light to guide by, a way to return... and he would not be gone for long.
Shadows swallowed him, and the fire dimmed behind him. He spurred the horse clumsily into a shallow gallop, not too fast, but fast enough they couldn't easily be bought down. He filled his right hand with his gladius and wet his lips, filled his lungs-
"RI-AH-RIS!" He paused, letting the echo of his bellow dissipate into the sky, waiting for... nothing. The Myrian cried out again. "RI-AH-RIS!"
Horse and man ventured further into the darkness, screaming at the shadows, both hoping in their own ways for an answer.
