3. A Long Night

The road out of the fort continued south to points unknown to Darren.  He wasn’t

concerned with the road, however; he was concerned with getting Christof and himself to

safety.  He took a brief moment to scan their surroundings for some kind of cover and

saw a forest to the southwest of Fort Brigade.  With Christof under his arm, he took off as

fast as he could.  The moon above seemed brighter than he was normally used to, and he

cursed it under his breath as he ran.  He could hear the soldiers shouting behind him, and

he ran faster, dragging Christof through the grass.  His friend moaned in pain every time

his feet were dragged over a rock or small hill, and Darren wished he had the strength to

carry him.

    After what seemed like an eternity they reached the forest, and Darren made a

mad dash for the thickest underbrush he could find.  He almost shouted with joy when he

discovered that the group of bushes that he had led them into obscured a small dugout

under an old oak.  He led Christof into the hole and waited to see if they would be

discovered.  He could hear the racket the soldiers’ armor made as they reached the woods

and searched for the two escapees.  Soon the soldiers were shouting at each other and at

Darren and Christof, but still the two friends remained undiscovered.  The soldiers gave

up the search after half an hour, and Darren knew the fading sound of their armor meant

they were returning to the fort.

    “I think we are safe for now,” he told Christof.

    He saw that the other man’s shirt was completely drenched in blood now, but he

was still trying to cover the wound.  Darren ripped the sleeve off of his own shirt and

removed his belt.  Once he got Christof’s shirt off and cleaned the wound a bit, he saw

that the sword hadn’t gone as deep as it had looked, but it had still done a fair bit of

damage.  He covered the wound with the makeshift bandage and used his belt to hold it

in place.

    “We’ll rest here for an hour,” Darren said when he was finished dressing his

friend’s wound.  “Those soldiers will probably come back in the morning, so we need to

be gone.  Hopefully that road leads to a town with a healer.”

    Christof nodded weakly.

    “Do you think you can make it?” Darren asked, and Christof merely shrugged.

    Darren frowned and let his friend rest for the time being.


Darren’s eyes opened in the darkness.  He hadn’t intended on sleeping, but he had been

up over twenty-four hours and his weary mind demanded it.

    He crawled out of the dug out and peered up at the night sky.  Stars still twinkled

overhead so he had no telling how many hours had passed.  He listened for the sounds of

any soldiers, but the only sounds were an owl and various night insects.

    He went back into the hole and gently shook Christof awake.  Christof murmured

something unintelligible, and Darren frowned.

    “We’ve got to get going,” he told his old friend.  Christof moaned again, louder

this time.  Darren took a deep breath, exhaled, and dragged Christof out of the dug out.  

Once they were out he helped the gray-haired man to his feet.  The two of them began the

trek back to the main road.

    “Darren?” Christof called out in a delirium after they had been walking for a few

minutes.  “Where’re we going, Darren?”

    “Quiet,” Darren hissed, still worried that there might be soldiers from the fort still

lurking in the woods.  “We are going to see if we can find you a doctor or healer.”

    “Madelyn?” Christof said suddenly, and then his head slumped forward and he

was silent.

    Darren stopped.  Concerned for his friend he felt Christof’s forehead and found

that the man was burning with fever.  He was still breathing, however, much to Darren’s

relief.

    Darren started walking again, dragging his friend along with him.  When he

reached the road he turned south.


Darren thought that the night seemed to drag on forever.  Several times it threatened to

rain, but Darren kept walking.  His shoulders and back began to ache from Christof’s

weight, and his exhausted mind cried out to him to stop, but still he kept walking.  He

saw no houses, no farms, no signs of human settlement anywhere, but he figured the road

must lead someplace, otherwise why would it be there to begin with?  He continued to

walk, regardless.

    Hours passed.  The moon and stars continued their trek across the night sky.  The

only sound Christof made was a heavy, labored breathing.  His head was still slumped

forward, and it bounced against his chest.  Heat was now radiating from the gray-haired

man’s body, and Darren felt that time may be running out for his friend.  The wound

hadn’t looked deep when he had cleaned it, but the blade must’ve been poisoned or done

more damage than Darren originally thought.

    Thoughts of the soldier’s blade made Darren think of the flame jumping from the

torch into the soldier’s face.  Darren was no expert at magic (in fact he had never met a

mage in his entire life, but knew they existed), but he guessed that was as close to magic

as he had ever seen.  He didn’t what had caused the torch to flare out like that; he was

just grateful that it had.

    At some point his legs began to shake uncontrollably and he made himself stop.  

Christof mumbled something, and Darren looked at him.

    “Christof?” he asked his old friend.  Christof raised his head wearily and looked

around.

    “Where are we?” the older man asked.  Darren simply shrugged, and helped his

friend to the side of the road so they could rest for a moment.

    “How are you feeling?” Darren asked once they had sat down.

    “Terrible,” Christof replied, yawning.  “My shoulder aches and I feel like I am

burning up.”

    “You are running a fever,” Darren told his friend.  “I think that sword might’ve

been poisoned.”

    “Why would a soldier’s blade be poisoned?” Christof asked, but Darren couldn’t

think of an answer.

    A fragile silence followed as Christof sat there clutching his arm and Darren

listened intently for any sign that the soldiers from Fort Brigade might be following them.  

When he didn’t hear anything, he turned back to Christof.

    “Ready to get going again?” he asked.  The gray-hair man shrugged.

    “Where are we going, by the way?” Christof asked as Darren helped him to his feet.

    “I have no idea,” the younger man replied.  “This road has to lead somewhere

though.  Maybe it goes to that place Stonewatch you mentioned earlier.”

    Christof thought it over and then nodded.

    “Can you walk on your own?” Darren asked.

    “I’ll try,” Christof replied.

    They set out, south once more, along the road that might lead to anything.  They

hadn’t gone far before Christof was asleep and leaning on Darren again.

    The hours and the miles continued to pass in silence for Darren Fisher.  As the

sun began to rise in the sky he noticed a hill to the southwest.  On top of this hill was a

building of some kind.  Darren’s hopes rose and he began to walk a little faster.