Chapter 2
The figure cursed loudly as a bramble snagged on his arm for the fourth time that hour. Above him the sun was setting, hardly as majestic as he'd seen it on past travels; but nevertheless it was a pleasing sight. As the crimson rays intensified with the Sun's descent, casting long shadows across the fields and picking out the leaves of the spring trees in a beautiful scene of reds and golds, his thoughts turned to where he was going to sleep. Certainly the landscape had changed in the time he had been the prisoner of that house - he barely recognised it - and for such a seasoned traveller, he found himself embarrassed to admit that he was completely lost.
He stumbled onward through the setting twilight over root and rock, assuring himself that over the next hill he would see the warm glow of village or farmhouse. Even a barn would do.
But he did not fancy sleeping rough in the countryside. Of course, there were far less demons in the world than there had been during the times of the End, but some did still exist, skulking in the darkest caves and forests; hoping in vain for the return of their master and preying on those foolish enough to journey unprotected. Even during those days that the End had been at its nearest, there had been few creatures he had not felt he could handle; but now, weak and aching as he was, the thought of confrontation worried him. He had had little with which to arm himself other than a stout stick.
It had been with great sadness that he had discovered his old weapon, now one of a perhaps legendary status, with its delicate engravements worn away by the years - yes; looking at the thing, it must surely have been years - of neglect and lack of maintenance. Withered, it all but fell apart when he touched it. He had packed the frail item with the rest of his luggage, with the hope that someone might be able to restore it; but for the moment it was useless.
He could remember none of the spells he had learnt. Thinking back into what now seemed like another life, he could remember that magic had not come easily to him, but what he had managed he had painstakingly mastered. And, thanks to the rotting emptiness his mind had endured, it was all gone. He wondered if he would ever again be able to use magic.
These thoughts put more pace into his stride, uneven as it was, and in the darkness his mind bent the shadows into horrifying shapes, shapes from his past, that leapt out at him through the night and chased him. He broke into a run. Madly he scrambled down slopes and over ditches, through patches of scrub and forest; imaginary demons haunting him wherever he looked.
He was panicking, dismayed and hopeless; as he scrabbled over a cliff, down a steep hillside, barely keeping his footing, and along a muddy track. He threw himself at a fence, crashed through it as it collapsed underneath him, and looked up, panting and breathless, to see his sanctuary. A cold, deserted building.
A church.
He had a vague feeling that he was probably far safer outside. But he was tired, too tired, and the ground was hard and cold. At least if he slept amongst the pews his legs wouldn't seize up with cramp. He tried the door and found that it still moved on its rusty hinges. He went inside.
Despite the years of neglect and desertion, the building was in remarkably good order. High above, dust danced lazily in the moonlight that shone through the stained glass windows, illuminating the chapel and bathing the altar in a pool of brilliant light. As he made his way down the aisle, he noticed that there was something about the great altar at the front of the church that was puzzling him. Stood on the altar, beside the dust-covered candles and old religious texts, was not the wheel of St. Eva, but something else, a bust, or statue. Of course! He remembered, now, that in the days following that last battle, how the order had been given across the world to destroy anything that, even in the smallest of ways, might have restored Eva's power. And now, as he approached, he could see that on the altar was a small shrine - a dragon. So he would be safe in here, at least.
The night's rest was remarkably peaceful. He awoke feeling refreshed and ready, and with a surprising amount of energy. He set out and, after a few miles gentle walk along the outskirts of a forest, finally discovered a road. Things were looking up.
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Reviews would be most thoroughly welcome, chaps.
CrackMonkey