The Tale of Eiadric – Part V

The work he was put to up here was as hard as in the orc settlement. But at least it was outdoors. And the food was better. Every day he looked for a way to escape. He studied the behaviour of his overseers carefully, trying to find a weakness, a chink in their armour.

After a couple of weeks he was sure that it could be done. It would not be without risk. But he convinced himself that he had nothing to lose. So one day as he was put to work he decided it was time.

He was labouring away on a field at the very edge of the town and there were only three men guarding him and the other slaves. The sun was scorching hot in the late morning sky. He bided his time and waited for one of them to come within ten yards from where he was working. Then he subtly edged closer, pretending to be working all the time. When he saw that the guard had turned around he gripped his shovel hard in one hand, sprang up, ran a few paces and hit him hard across the back of his head. With a crack the Dunlending went down like a sack of potatoes. Then he quickly picked up the fallen man’s sword and started running. After a few seconds he heard shouts behind him and knew that the alarm had been sounded.

He had to sprint a good four hundred yards before he reached the edge of a light forest. The tricky part was over, he thought. But he knew that the hard and tiresome one had just begun. A few yards into the woods he stopped to get his bearings right. Then he continued running in the direction he though would lead him away from the town.

Behind him he now heard men shouting and dogs barking. His heart sank as he heard the beasts and he knew that his escape would be tougher than he had anticipated. After a couple of minutes he came to a small stream and hesitated for a moment before his thirst took the better of him and he threw himself down and drank frantically. Head start be damned, he thought, without water I won’t last long.

As he continued he scuttled along upstream for a little while before continuing on his previous path, hoping to throw off the dogs following his scent. He heard his pursuers closing in on him.

After a while, he saw a steep hill with an outcropping and made his way to it. As he scrambled up he looked back and could now see his pursuers. No bows, he noticed. That’s good. But the hounds had obviously not been fooled by his little trick at the stream.

The forest was a bit thicker up here. He jogged for a hundred yards before he understood that he would not be able too keep this up. This is it then. He thought. He would make a stand here. He looked around for a favourable defensive position and chose a thick tree where another tree had fallen against it forming a slanting barrier. He stood there, catching his breath and listened intently.