The Knight's Eyes

28: BLACK SOUL

He gasped in pure shock. His arm once the color of tannish whipped cream was now rich as tree bark. Speaking of tree bark, he touched the teeth imprint the Frostbiter had left behind, and felt wood rather than skin. When he peeled his fingers from his strange arm, a slimy liquid trailed from it.

Relief washed over him seeing the Frostbiter's bite had not punctured into his flesh to infect him, but a new panic arose. Pain seized his right arm and flowed down his side towards his hip. He groaned as his adrenalin calmed reopening the door to the agony of his true sickness. He pulled down the sleeve, sheathed his dagger, and climbed onto his feet.

Silently, he prayed for the way to be clear and jogged down the open street parallel to the Medusa Nile. The crystal flowing water crackled as the ice from the Mad Mist melted under the summer's heat. He spotted a group of tents of the unfortunate homeless and saw some of their occupants walking around idly, sniffing the air. More frostbloods, he cringed and increased his pace before they spotted him up the hill.

Thankfully, no cravers or wargs crossed his path, but he didn't let it reduce his pace. Holding his bad arm close to his chest, he ran under the four-level underpass that connected the treasury building to the outer rim of the palace's south wing. He kept himself close to the side of the gigantic stonewall that protected the royal palace and was relieved to see no guards on patrol. On other days, this area would be packed with armsmen on horseback and citizens traveling to and from the trade port at the river. No guard stood at his post on top of the wall, which made the palace look vulnerable for an unexpected attack. But no other kingdom would dare step foot into Terra in the first month of summer.

His stiff legs carried him past the palace's exterior and into the darkness of the plains. Just a yard away the Black Prison stood in the center of the plains with fire burning along its wall and towers. He remembered running to the prison two years ago, but he was on the other side of the palace with the same mission to get to Allen Larius.

Above, cravers screeched through the air and sounds erupted from the grass that came to his shoulders. Still, he continued down the one open road, ducking by the grass when a craver flew by. Crossing the drawbridge, a terrible headache overwhelmed him. His leg muscles weakened causing him to stumble into the black gate. He panted and waved his good arm between two bars.

Finally, someone spotted him in the outpost joined to the side of the wall. The guard approached him with great caution waving his torch to give light. When he got a good look at him his face distorted, "What're you doing boy?"

"Help. Water. Please."

"Go away."

"Wait. Sir. Please. Cravers broke into my house over the hill. Killed my dad." He whimpered pressing his cheek against a cold bar. "I had to run. This is the only safest place- close."

For a minute, he glared down at him and shook his head in disgrace. "Those damn things are merciless." There was a jingle of keys. He walked to the far side and Kit wearily followed to a small gate entrance for people. "Are you wounded boy?"

"This my dad's," he cried real tears of fear, pain, and exhaustion streamed down his face.

The guard's face softened as he held the gate for him to enter. Once the gate was closed and locked, he entered his outpost and returned with a jug. Kit took it, nodded, and gulped down the cool water.

"Did you get caught in the Mad Mist? I saw it on the other side of the palace. Praying it wasn't going to come this far."

Kit shook his head no, although he did. "I came from over the plain-hill."

"Look, boy, I can't keep you here. Go inside where it's warmer, but stay up in the business hall. Some mos-bees got in some of the prison sections as usual so..."