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He thanked his lord and allowed the piece to thump against
his chest again. Though his body was worn beyond the
limits of most men, he smiled gratefully. He would be
allowed the chance to fulfill his Oath.
Somewhere to the south lay his objective. Somewhere
to the south, perhaps four days, perhaps only two, lay part
of the advancing army of the Dragon Highlord - a sizable
portion commanded by one of the Highlord's most
dangerous generals. Pushing ever closer, its only real
obstacle was the tiny garrison four days north from
Garrick's present location.
They would be forced to travel through the woods to
obtain the pass, he realized. In the woods, they would be
vulnerable. In the woods, he stood a chance.
He came across the bodies just after crossing a stream.
They had been carelessly stacked to one side. Plague
victims. The stench nearly overwhelmed him. The knight
shivered. Better to die in battle than waste away in the end.
He covered his nose and mouth with tattered, dirty cloth and
urged the warhorse to move at a quicker pace. That their
loved ones had left these poor shells to rot did not bother
him. Now was a time to take care of the living, to help those
still with the breath of life within them
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