<disclaimer: although not gruesome, this is definitely not a holiday cheer post.>
Toril Ni`zor, one of the captured MystHaven guards, had been conscious enough so far to guesstimate that at least the timespan of two nights, if not three, had fallen here in the darkened cavern where this particular sect of the Wyvern Gang had taken their prisoners. He knew the prayer he'd been silently reciting for his soul and that of his fellow guardsmen took approximately one hour to recite at temple. And still, the man in the cell next to Ni`zor had barely stirred against his chains. And not for the first time, the other prisoners quietly agreed amongst themselves that it might be better if the unknown among them never woke to this surreal nightmare. Save for one dim lantern up ahead of the iron cells, there was nothing but the empty darkness of cold mountain rock, making it nearly impossible to gauge the passage of time. The captive, injured guards were blindfolded, but even if they weren't, there wasn't even a visible changing of the gang members standing watch so that shift changes could be counted. Were it not for the infrequent echoing of a voice off the cave walls, a weakened mind would soon believe the four guards had been abandoned for dead. Water wasn't offered, save for the putrid trickle of liquid upon the ground from god knows what origin. Food consisted of the dead bugs you were lucky to find when feeling with bloody, frostbitten fingertips along the jutting cracks and piercing crevices of the rocks beneath you. And healing was merely a tortured memory of sweet Claire smiling at you. Nothing of monetary value remained on the men; they were lucky to still be clothed enough to keep from freezing to death. Heavy chains at the wrists and ankles and a long chain to the side of the cell made escape unlikely. Movement was difficult. Movement was what the less injured did to prevent themselves from stiffening up and what they regretted expending the precious energy to do once they actually tried. The long chain was enough to strangle someone, if you could gather the heavy metal in your hands before they gutted you, but no one ever came to give you the opportunity. ~*~ "If all we lose is the skin I'm putting you under within..." The heavy weight of blood loss from neck, side, and leg bolt wounds held Rue down in a way the chains never could. Had he been conscious, the fighter in him would have begged for death instead. There were many times when Rue thought he was awake. But he never was and his mind never questioned it, slipping further away into that place. When he faced the swirling black void, he knew it was the curse that cloaked him like a shadow and tore through his chest, leaving an empty hole where his heart used to be. When he cupped the faces of two adorable children, he knew they were his when he saw their faded yellow eyes and they were suddenly out of reach behind a laughing green-eyed Brin on the back of a golden dragon. When he stood at the top of the Key Peaks and leaned down to kiss Lani's lips, he knew his vision would blur and in the time it took for her blonde hair to blow across gorgeous amber eyes, she turned into dark-haired Katarina and sunk her teeth into his neck. When he knelt at his mother's gravesite, begging her forgiveness for his life in her death, he knew her soft aura would reach out and welcome him in a warm embrace that he could not resist. the_____________end A brief background on Rue Denali: http://www.dragonmyst.f2s.com/char/rue.html "It sounds cold, but it's not cold," he explains. "I mean, what the truth in life is, you need failures, you need tough times to get any kind of value on what's important to you and what's not. There's no way around it." (BP '92) -- To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Archives & Other DMI Lists: http://www.dragonmyst.f2s.com/lists.php3
