Undead Knightmare - Chapter 6
Sadon ran faster than he had ever run before. Fear and instinct was flooding his mind, but he knew not why he ran. The feeling that his life was in danger spurred him forward regardless. Then he finally heard it, the slapping of bare feet speeding behind him. He looked over his shoulder and cringed at what he saw. So much so that he stumbled on his own feet rolled across the cobble stone ground. Above him was Lizzie, grey skinned and blood covered. Her beauty lost to the disease, and friendship lost with her life. Sadon was filled with remorse and his heart seemed to stop beating his chest. She slowed to a walking pace before lowering her mouth to the exposed flesh of his neck. He could not resist or even move. And then he woke up from the dream, and entered the real nightmare.
Darkness. A chill creeping up my spine. Limbs numb and I’m wet. Is it blood? The scraping of stone echoing. No fear. Just confusion. Head spinning. Moaning and the shuffling of feet in the distance. The rock scraping again. A sudden blinding light and then my mind clouding in darkness.
A flickering light. My thoughts getting more clear, but not enough. Wavering warmth on the body. A familiar smell. Like damp wood, but foulness overpowering it. Why is it so familiar? The surface shifting and pain jolting. Darkness once again.
He felt warm and the light of a fire flickered outside his eyelids. His mind was groggy and he remembered only few details of what had happened. The confusion turned to fear, and the fear to the will to fight. His eyes jolted open and he forced himself up. This was a mistake for it sent a renewed sensation of agony through his body and head and dizziness swept over him.
“Sadon! I’m so glad you’re okay,” Lizzie said with a sigh of relief. He turned around and saw her leaning against the stairs he saw when they entered the room. Her dirt covered face showed the evidence of tears and her eyes the signs of weariness. Before laid the stone of pile and wood that he assumed he was buried under. Through small holes in the top of the pile light was pouring in the room.
“What happened?” he asked sliding toward the wall beside her. It was difficult and dizzying.
“You… the ceiling, it fell on top of you and knocked me into the stairs.” she motioned to a bloody mark on the corner of a low step. “I thought you were dead,” her voice almost failing her.
Sadon noticed the blood on her clothes and hands. Her hair was dirty and hanging in front her face, drenched in dried blood. He reached out and brushed it out of her face.
“Liz, you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” she was so quiet that Sadon could barely hear her. “You were worse.”
He noticed for the first time the piece of cloth covering the wound on the back of his head, it was hard and dry blood was soaked through it. He felt it with appreciation. Though, his mind was still foggy.
“Let me take care of you then.” he said, looking inside the open bag next to Lizzie and pulled out a cloth bandage. “I owe it to you.” he reached around her head and began to clean the wound. It was already starting to heal, but it was a mess.
“No, you don’t. This is my fault.” her protest halfhearted and she made no move to stop him. “I’m the one who got us into this mess; we would have died without you.” her face was miserable and revealed an obvious lack of sleep.
Sadon wrapped a cloth around the wound and tightened the bandage. He lightly pulled on her chin to direct her head towards him.
“Why do you think that?” His voice was full of surprise and concern.
“I got distracted, if I had only kept walking and ignored the Ill I wouldn’t have fallen and we wouldn’t be here.” Frustrated, she swiped at the open bag beside her and its contents skittered across the stone floor. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. “I almost killed you!” her muffled voice barely audible as she pressed her mouth against her knees.
For a moment he did not know what she was talking about. Everything that happened only a day before was now at the most distant parts of his mind. The memories began trickling back to him.
The fall.
The slide.
The Ill.
“Don’t ever tell yourself that. You made a mistake, but this is not your fault. If anything, I’m to blame, I should have never asked you to cross that stupid gap.” he straightened his back and his voice grew stern. “It was my choice to stay with you. We work together, no matter what.” Sadon saw Lizzie’s face relax slightly. He slinked against the wall and thought of how to get Lizzie’s mind off the matter. The fire crackled and his eyes shot towards the smoke billowing towards the ceiling and out the hole at the opposite end of the room. “Won’t they see this?”
“They already know we’re in here, there is no point in freezing to death. It’s been cold.”
“Have you slept at all?”
“No,” she said in a long breath. The weariness in her voice was overwhelming.
“What have you been doing then?” The shock showed through in his voice, though he tried to hide it.
“Listening” her eyes on her hands, gripped tightly together in her lap. “Crying and tending to the fire.”
Sadon was extremely grateful and proud to have her as a friend. Her usual demeanor was lost to weariness. It pained him to see how much she had endured. Her shoulders hunched forward and her head bobbed in such a way he had never seen on her.
“You’ve done so much. Thank you,” he said. Sadon saw the corner of her mouth turn up in a thin, forced smile. He hugged her and after a second, he felt her relax and hug him back. A breath of relief escaped her and brushed past his ear. He held her until her breathing slowed and her head relaxed onto his chest. She was asleep.
With a silent laugh he laid her down on the stone floor and placed his rolled up blanket under her head.
Sadon’s stomach growled and he realized how long it had been since he had eaten. After dragging a squished flat package, tied with twine from the bag beside Lizzie, he eagerly pulled crumbling bits of bread from it. He ravenously shoved them into his mouth and enjoyed the feeling of having something in his stomach, even if it was only a little. He finished his meager meal and then repacked the bag, ignoring his pain and spinning head.
The armory they were in was the crumbling ruins of a once great city and it now contained a massive hole from the collapse of the doorway. The sun spilled in through the thin barred windows and the hole above the rubble. Dull weapons were glowing all about the room. Many barrels of arrows were stacked in the distant corner and bows on the wall beside. Swords and daggers were stacked neatly on tables around the room, and piles of rusty pikes shoved under them, forgotten after years of abandonment. Rats and raccoons visited this armoury more than the city guards did.
To his left a set of stairs led to the unexplored second story. Lizzie had not the courage or energy to take a look. He was still tired, but curiosity held back the growing desire for more rest. With a loud groan he pulled himself to his feet and walked toward the steps, casting an eye on Lizzie as he left. Even in sleep she looked without peace. He began to ascend the steps, wary of what might be lurking above.
Poking his head into the new room, he observed no life, although it was dark. He made his way to the top and stood at the top of the stairs searching for something. He did not know what. Anything to escape. Piles of dusty crates and tables were stacked about the small room. Barrels on barrels giving off putrid smells. It was scale oil taken from fats of the giant lizards in Hysteria. It was extremely valuable and could last hundreds of years. Also, a single drop could burn for hours brighter and hotter than any brazier. Taking a peek into one of the nearby crates, he saw it was full of old steel armour pieces, now too damaged for any use. He had nearly forgotten the hole in the wall until a cold breeze sent a shiver up his spine.
He took a step toward the opening, but his foot found something that was quite happy to carry his it quickly and awkwardly from under him, the sudden impact of the floor against his back blew the air from his lungs. The small, wooden buckler he had slipped on skipped across the floor, bouncing off a rack of the small shields, knocking a few loose. Pools of dried blood spotted the floor in the middle of the room—a fight ended badly here.
Cursing his misfortune, he wondered how the mess could have escaped him when first entering the room. Surely it had been obvious enough to draw his attention sooner. His sides ached as he pushed himself up from the ground. Sadon was adding his new pains to his list of injuries when something protruding from the rubble snapped his mind back to his surroundings. A grey, lifeless hand; frozen in its final grasp at life from beneath the snow covered pile of rubble.
Stepping over a buckler on the ground, he slowly approached the opening and stopped as soon as he was close enough to crane his neck into the alley. Below him stood twenty, motionless Ill. The group in front of the rubble bore fingers bleeding and bare to the bone from clawing at the stone. The snow had formed small piles on their heads and shoulders.
How are we going to get out of here?
Killing them was the only foreseeable option, but neither he nor Lizzie had ever taken the life of an animal before, let alone that of a man. Sadon turned and moved back down the stairs to the warmth of the fire, too weary to think on any of it in that moment.
Lizzie was breathing softly and she had the blankets pulled tightly against her chest. He wished he had not given her his blanket. The cold air was making his knees shake aggressively. He sat as close as he could to the fire without burning himself and looked back at Lizzie. She had stayed awake protecting him; he would return the favour.
The sound of the wind and crackling fire filled his mind for hours—perhaps only a few long minutes. The cold sapped his energy and he soon found it hard to keep his eyes open. He laid back and rested his head on Lizzie’s leg. Sadon blinked, stifled a yawn and without warning drifted into dreams.
