Wildest DreamsMature

Horse hooves scanting in the gravel. The sun warming the Clydesdales already sweat-slick backs. The whip cracks, and the old carriage's wheels begin to turn in the soft earth.
Clouds were wiped into the sky, here and there, with cracks where the sunlight sheeted through. Spring was the time of many battles, when blood ran like rivers, and not even the queen could bring back the lives that the brutality stole away. Those who fought and lived were now homeless, or more likely crazy. Those who didn't fight were attacked anyway, and many were forced to move on. No land was safe.
"How is thy lord?" Griem said, rubbing the back of his hand on his rough stubble.
Thyun sat on the edge of the wooden carriage, his long legs drooping down, his boots almost dragging in the dusty track. "Still out," He said in his thick Irish brogue. He wiped his greasy hands on his lap, then gripped the curtain that covered the threshold and pulled himself to his feet.
"How's about you try and wake him?" Griem suggested grimely.
He nodded, then slipped into the darkness of the cabin. When the curtain had slipped back into black behind him, he blinked a few times to adjust to the lack of light. An oil lantern lay on its side, rolled against the wall, the flame dying slowly, the glass fogged up.
Thyun felt his way along the bales of hay that lined the left wall, then crouched down when his toe kicked something, and it made a grunt. He reached out and placed his hand on Lord Sybashu's shoulder. The fabric beneath his palm tightened as the younger, thinner man rolled over and groaned.
"Where am I?" Lord Sybashu groaned, weakly rolling off his stomach and leaning upright against the hay. "Who am I?" His voice was sweeter, lighter, but still rough.
Thyun took a water skin from the straw mat on the ground and passed it to his Lord, who took it in pale fingers and sucked for a long moment, before letting it slide onto his lap.
"Do you remember anything?" He asked the Lord.
Sybashu shook his head, then buried his face in his hands, fingernails gripping the bandages that covered his face. He was wrapped up like a mummy, bandages over his head, concealing his features and hair, coming down to his shoulders and neck, then his arms. The rest of him was garbed in fine cotton and breeches.
"What is my name? And you, fine man?" The doll of Lord Sybashu said.
"You're our Lord, Sybashu. You were burnt badly in the fire of the dragons. Lucky that we found you. Oh, and I'm Thyun."
Sybashu grimaced, but his servant warrior could not see it through the bandage. He began to itch at his hands furiously, trying to pull off the covering. Thyun grabbed his arm.
"Stop! My lord, you'll open the burns!" He got the water skin and squeezed it over his hands to cool the itch. Sybashu looked like he was shaking, and he had to have his hands tied behind his back. "Sorry, my lord. We are dropping into the village of Rhisinkeyp. Remember that place?"
The Lord said no more, but stared with blind eyes at his hands, thinking darkly. Whatever happened, dragons doing this was not quite my wildest dream.

The End

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