[Envinyatar]

Kherug

Kherug, spear grasped firmly in his hand, came panting up the small rise just in time to see the scene of carnage unfolding below. He had been out scouting for the slaves’ trail, and heard the screams coming from just beyond his position.

‘Good!’ he thought as he picked up the pace. ‘They have found some of the miserable vermin at last.’ His hands itched to hold his sword in hand and cut the life from those creatures. ‘Especially that Elf!’ he hissed, his hand straying to his cheek to rub the scar there where an Elven blade had cut him in one of the unsuccessful raids to bring more slaves in.

Dorlas joined him in the sprint up the hill. He had apparently been sent to scout along a different direction. Kherug’s eyes narrowed when he saw only one victim at the bladed mercy of Ekatran and Shivana. He spat on the ground at Dorlas’ feet as they stood some distance away, watching Ekatran push his sword into the bound man. ‘That is no slave!’ he growled, pounding his spear hard on the rocky rise he stood on. ‘That is Ranchard!’ He spat again on the ground, angry that there would be no work for his own blade.

Motioning the other Easterling, he sprinted quickly to the perimeter of the slaughter. Ekatran has drawn blood, and Ranchard, even as his doom was upon him, taunted the other there. ‘Shivana,’ thought Kherug to himself, might as well taunt Him.’ He shivered, and looked quickly over his left shoulder, not wanting to draw the attention of the Dark Lord to himself, even in passing thought.

The bloody deed was soon finished, and Shivana stood, covered in blood. Kehrug stood mesmerized by the sight. The smell of blood was overwhelming, he could almost taste it in his own mouth, and feel it on his hands. He fought down the urge to strike at the nearest one to him, just to see blood flow from his own strike, and feel it as it cooled, running out of the body to death.

Kherug shuddered, and drew a deep breath, his grip on the now raised sword loosening, as he brought it down. Point now resting in the bloodied dirt, he forced his thoughts to refocus.

‘My Lord,’ he said, his voice ragged with lust for the kill. He bowed his head to Ekatran, then raised his chin and nodded in a southwesterly direction. Another breath, and then his voice was under control.

‘I have found their trail. It leads that way . . .’

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]