Mon Apr 07, 2003 3:56 pm
The Duke sat upon his horse quietly, not urging his mount, nor his men to any great notions of speed. Ruann, and Derry beyond it would not take over long to get to. Not when one was accompianied by twenty armed and armoured guardsmen. Yet... the Duke did not notice them at all. Did not give any indication that he was even riding. Deep in thought was he, eyes almost... glazed as he rode on. It disturbed his guard, greatly, but what could they do...
Mind wandered back towards the night before. After having his conversation with Governor Phuri, and then making sure Vara was fast asleep. Lenore was as well, and he, finally, put himself to rest. Though it was a far from peaceful one. They had returned, it seemed. The nightmares he thought had vanished for real. He took them as a signal, a warning... Because they were more than night-mares. They were... memories.
The sound of fighting echoed about him, and through the eyes of a five year old boy he beheld his father. Glorious in his anger and ferocity. The massive sword, Angelmar, swung too and fro, cleaving Orcish bodies to bits. His mother, before him. With her hair like a raven's wing, and eyes that flashed deadly green. She too was armed, defending her child from that which wished to take him...
It came back spordadically. Off and on, those memories. More often as fleeting glimpses of the past... But the night before...
Death was all that remained. His mother was dead at his fathers feet, dagger buried in the eye of one of the ravagers. His father was on his knees. Struggling to keep his feet. But he could not withstand them all. Already the guard was dead, all fifteen of the best Thessilane could offer. Their work was marvelous, though. The dead piled to either side of the road, between the carraige and the dead horses. The stench of death was unmistakeable...
It meant something horrid was coming. Something... foreboding. Always, when the dream came, there was something about to happen. A death that would hit him hard. Or a loss that would break his heart.
His father had collapsed before him, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Eyes had found his son's. Bright and brilliant grey-green. Pain lanced through them... and... a look of failure. He had failed to protect his wife and son. Failed... "Be brave..." The last words of a dying father, before the end... Before he was... saved, by those who dwelt within the mountains.
He never forgot that look. Not even now, as he sat quietly upon the back of his mount. Idly making his way for Ruann first. A glance, back and forth to his guards.
"We need to hurry, friends... I... fear this coming fight. Let us ride!"
This was their Duke again. Spirited and in command... even if he did speak of fear. But then, all men feared war, right...