Labs sat on a filth-covered log, warming his hands over the dying embers of a small fire. Beside him sat a fisherdwarf he didn’t recognise, wrapped in a thick blanket. The two of them were idly passing the time discussing fishing stories, anything to keep away the thoughts of the darkness that enveloped the camp like a shroud.
A bolt of agony drove through his arm causing him to twitch.
“Are you feeling well?” his companion asked, with a concerned note in his voice.
Labs nodded gently, disguising the pain by scratching his arm. “I just took a scratch, nothing to worry about.”
“You should get some rest, we have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Perhaps you’re right, I am lagging a little.” Labs replied. He moved to rise, and the other dwarf helped him to his feet. As Lab caught the other dwarf’s eyes, he noticed them widen in shock.
The dwarf shuddered almost imperceptibly, and stuttered, “g’night.”
As Lab slumped off towards his sleeping area, the other dwarf sat in silence for a few moments. His eyes, he thought to himself in wonder. Full of fire and pain. He shook his head in wonder, trying to rid himself of the image, and poked at the dying embers with a stick.
***
Labs lay in the darkness, blanket wrapped tightly around him. The agony of the spreading pain was intense, making sleep impossible for the dwarf. Despite the shroud of night, every bolt of pain burst like a firework in his head, and a buzzing reverberated through his skull like a furious swarm of insects. He tore the blanket from his shoulders and hurled it aside, sweat scattering from his brow. A stream of obscenities spewed forth into the night as he staggered to his feet, and plucked a nearby length of wood from the ground. Leaning heavily upon the wood, he staggered off into the darkness.
***
Dawn broke over the plains, scattering slivers of sunlight through the sparse vegetation. The dwarves blinked in the morning light, stretching their aching limbs, tending to their bruises, and began to organise their belongings in preparation for departure. In the centre of the encampment, Kubluk was assisting Dirulal in packing away the provisions.
“Think we’re free of pursuit?” Dirulal asked.
Kubluk looked into the morning mist. “I don’t think they ever give up Dirulal. It’s just a matter of how long it takes them to catch up to us. I doubt that’s the last we’ll see of them.”
Dirulal spat into the dust. “We lost some good dwarves yesterday.”
“And we’ll lose plenty more, I’m sure. But I need you to stay focused.”
Dirulal grinned. “With you to the end Kubluk. As my father once told me, from here to distant shores, we’re always dwarves together.”
“Kubluk!” A young dwarf ran over to their fire and took a moment to regain his breath. “Labs has gone missing. Silus said there’s been no sign of a struggle, he’s just, gone!”
“Gone? How can he just be gone?” Kubluk asked, thoroughly confused.
“His gear’s still unpacked from last night. He didn’t take anything with him as far as we know, but we just can’t find him anywhere.”
The group rose from the cooling fire, and ventured over to where a group of soldiers were stood looking extremely confused over the missing dwarf’s possessions.
“Who was the last to see him?” Othtar asked, crouching in the dirt and looking through the open pack.
“I was,” a fisherdwarf remarked. “We were trading stories about carp and he complained about feeling tired. As far as I knew, he went straight to bed. He did strike me as a little odd though.”
“Odd? In what way?” Kubluk asked.
“He was looking very pale. No, more than that, he looked almost, green.”
“Green?”
“Green. And his eyes. His eyes were burning like lava. I could barely look into them.”
Othtar stood slowly, a rag held in his hand. He unravelled it with a puzzled look on his face, which soon turned to a look of anger. “Blood. He must have been bitten in the battle,” he remarked, before shouting the call to arms. As the soldiers began an intense search of the camp, he turned to Kubluk. “We could have the undead down on us in less than an hour unless we move out now. Where there’s one, there’s hundreds.”
“But Labs?”
“Labs is dead.”
***
Labs staggered up the winding trail, his feet faltering every few steps as intense pain drove through every nerve of his body. Still he drove himself onwards, pushed by sheer determination and self-will. His eyes burned with cold fury, a sheer dwarven rage against the unfairness of his fate. As his feet propelled him forwards he muttered four words, again and again. Even when the pain grew too much, and his muttering was overtaken by gasps of pain, still he continued the mantra within his own head.
“I will not die, I will not die.”
The lone dwarf staggered with devastating slowness to the summit of the ridge. He turned for one last time, and looked back to where the distant smoke of the campsite could be seen far back in the valley. From this distance, he could make out none of the detail of the camp, but could easily imagine the dwarves disassembling the camp for the days journey. Had they even noticed his departure? He pondered this question for a moment before another bolt of agony drove through his body.
With a final sigh to himself, he turned his back to the distant dwarves, crossed the peak and disappeared from sight. For a moment, his words were carried on the breeze, until they as well scattered and faded.
“I will not die, I…”
Author
Topic: The Captain's Log- Spiritwood (Read 61272 times)