Jori awoke lying face down across the hindquarters of a horse. There was a burlap sack over his head that smelled of potatoes, and his hands were bound with thick cords, which he tried to wiggle out of to no avail. The person riding the horse noticed that his captive was stirring, turned in his saddle to give his prisoner a sharp, quick elbow to the back. Jori let out what should have been a grunt, but could hardly breathe lying face down on the horse. He tried to shake to get the bag off, but a sharp pain surged through his head. He suddenly remembered the conversation with Arlon and the attack from behind.

"Stop squirming, would you." came a heavily accented and slightly annoyed Seccian voice.

Jori did not, however, stop squirming and wiggling. He jerked this way and that until, eventually, he began to slide off the horse head first. He tried to position himself to stay on the beast, but with no luck. He fell of the horse onto the ground, hitting his head on the hard-packed earth. His head throbbed even harder after another sharp pain shot through it. He moaned in agony and the rider of the horse he had just fallen off was joined by several others in laughter.

"I believe that's five gold pieces, Duncan," said the rider of the horse.

The one called Duncan mumbled something and Jori heard the distinct jingle of coins. Then Jori realized something - the usual clacking of the horse's hooves hadn't stopped, so that meant -

Jori's hands were suddenly jerked towards the men's voices and the horse began to drag him on the slightly rocky hard ground. He tried to stand upright but it was difficult while being dragged along. Finally, he was able to get purchase on the ground and hauled himself upright. Not wanting to be dragged again he ran forward towards the horse and bumped into it.

Jori mentally prepared himself for the pain to come and grabbed the slack of the thick rope. Feeling the bump, the horse looked back and so did the rider, just in time to see Jori wrapping the slack rope around his own neck. Jori pulled and he felt the rope tighten around his neck and the lack of air in his lungs. The man on the horse started shouting and slid down from the animal to stop Jori. He felt the all too familiar darkness of death welcome him to its warmth. The man tried to get the rope off of Jori's neck, but failed and darkness engulfed Jori.

. . .

Jori awoke to the smell of roasting meat, and he saw the red of the fire through the woven bag. Jori sighed heavily as he realized his attempted suicide didn't work. His abductors were laughing and talking, but Jori couldn't focus. He was propped up, rather uncomfortably, against a tree Jori tried to readjust himself, but lacked the strength. Apparently trying to strangle yourself does that.

One of the men at the fire noticed Jori stirring walked over to him. The man sat down and pulled the bag off of Jori's head. When his eyes readjusted to the dim light of early evening, they settled on the man sitting in front of him. He recognized Arlon, even though his face was shrouded in darkness.

"How long have I been out?" Jori asked still groggy.

"About three days. We'll be at the Plains of Koroth in the morning," replied Arlon.

Jori nodded slightly and a bolt of pain shot through his head. The sizzle of juice dropping into the fire and a delicious smell greeted his nostrils. His stomach roared like a lion, and for the first time, Jori realized how hungry he was.

"I imagine you're hungry?" Arlon inferred.

"Terribly."

"My Lord," Arlon began, "Truly, I am sorry, but he has my family. And he said if I didn't bring you to him, he - he'd kill them," Arlon croaked.

Jori nodded again, making the same mistake, and a bolt of pain shot through his head again.

"I understand. Now get me some of that . . ." Jori sniffed the delicious scent, "Goose?"

"Yes, Milord." With that Arlon left to get Jori his food.

Ausar frowned at the man kneeling before him at the bottom of the dais. He was wearing simple leathers, and looked to be an ordinary soldier. The man's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

"You sound like my grandmother coming down the stairs," Ausar commented, "Well? What did you want to tell me?"

"Commander – Arlon - is," the man wheezed after every word, "coming – to – the – Plains – of – Koroth."

After he finished his message he promptly passed out at the bottom of the marble steps of the dais.

Strange little man. Ausar walked down the steps of the raised platform and over the passed-out man, making sure to step on him. The man groaned but didn't move.

He strolled down the grand staircase and out of the massive tower.

"Wait!" a distinctly feminine voice called out after Ausar. He turned and saw Mara, beautiful as ever, standing in the entrance to the tower. He walked over to her admiring the simple, but elegant, navy blue dress fluttering in the wind.

"What is it my love?" Ausar asked sweetly.

"The last time you left you didn't say goodbye to me," she stated.

"Well," Ausar began uncertainly, "you were asleep?" Ausar half stated, half asked.

"Maybe . . . but still. You should have said goodbye."

Ausar took her in his armored arms and hugged her saying, "I'll never say goodbye." He stepped back from his embrace.

"I am truly sorry, but I must leave now." He stepped back, sliding his fingers down along her arm and then turned towards his ship.

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