Chapter Nine
By Untwisted

Reprinted with permission.
Added 08/08/2002.

Dajyrad's muscles ached, his body ached, his head spun. It had been three days since he left town, four since Palyn died. And despite the nagging drowsiness he would not rest. He knew no sleep nor peace, only slaugther; death; pain; and misery. He was the bearer of all these things, entering unsuspecting villages at night, slaying the weak and leaving a slew corpses for the carrion birds at sunrise.

It was dawn, and Dajyrad was just leaving a village, dragging a fresh corpse behind him. Women and children peeked frightfully from their windows, withdrawing at the slightest glance in their direction.

With a slight thump, Dajyrad piled the corpse he had been dragging with the others. With no remorse he turned to the east, scanned the horizon and began to walk.

By midday Dajyrad could walk no more. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He found a cool spring and took generous handfuls of water, gorging himself. Beside the spring the plants were lush and green, the trees had thick canopies, blocking out the sun, and keeping the area cool. Finding a soft, comfortable patch of moss Dajyrad let sleep consume him.

Finding it hard not to dream of Palyn, Dajyrad woke suddenly. He must have slept the better part of the day for it was night... or so he thought.

While collecting his thoughts, Dajyrad studied a small black beetle, which scuttled oddly toward the spring. Suddenly, the beetle was no longer black, but a lustrous montage of colors. Reds, blues, pinks, and oranges danced among the beetle's back as the sun broke though the canopy and lit the creature's wings.

That is when Dajyrad noticed the shadow. It was creeping its way slowly toward the west, and it was gigantic, much larger then the shadow a cloud could cast.

A piercing scream filled the air, chilling every bone in Dajyrad's body. The beetle took flight, and the trees shook with fear. Dajyrad knew what was happening, a tryant was passing overhead. Tyrants, believed to be only creatures of myth, were always brought up in stories where he came from so Dajyrad knew much about them.

Sitting frightfully still, Dajyrad watched as the shadow crept up a hillside and as it reached the crest, its owner was visible. The beast had magnificant wings of green, and flew with grace to which none could compare. This creature was much smaller then myth had told, and Dajyrad though it to be a baby. He followed the creature until it was no longer visible in the afternoon sky. Finding himself plagued with the need to sleep, he laid back down upon the moss and was soon out cold.

As night faded to morning, Dajyrad awoke. Packing his few items, the traveler took to the closest path and began walking east. The road he chose looked heavily traveled upon, tracks and prints littered the dirt. This was a main trade route no doubt. Trade routes meant trade cities, the perfect place for Dajyrad to drink away his sorrows. He could even kill if he felt like it as bar fights were fairly common, and to die in a fight was normal. With renewed vigor at these thoughts, the wandering spearman headed toward the nearest town.