Caladian of Sulkamls
Caladian rode his horse like a mad man. Fearing that they had caught up, he tried to urge his beast forward. The horse faltered and fell to the ground nearly crushing Caladian's leg.
"How in the name of the Heavens did I land myself in this mess?" He asked himself scrambling to pick up some of his weapons and some food. He was a nine day journey away form the closest noble holdings. Unsaddling the horse, he left it knowing it wasn't dead, and would stand more of a chance than him of surviving.
"Go home my brave Mylendor, my brave steed," then turning he started up the hills nimbly hoping against hope that his bronze hair and emerald eyes wouldn't attract any unwanted attention. He camped that night in the cold, nearly freezing to death because he had not dared not to build a fire. When he awoke from a short unfruitful sleep he started off again. He headed West by North West, to his Brothers house. He knew there to be farms around, but refused to risk the lives of the civilians, his country's people. Caladian stopped. Did he just hear men's voices? He climbed up an old oak near by to take a look. His blood froze in his veins. They had found him. The Melsoimns had found his tracks. He silently cursed himself for his carelessness.
As the Melsoimns closed in around Caladian, they thought a for sure victory. One man against a mounted patrol? He must be crazed. They saw the tall Duke standing in a clearing not far from him. As one for the Captain's best archer�s grabbed and arrow, they heard the slither of steal coming out of it�s sheath. Oh great, now what had happened? As if in answer to the general�s annoyance, the hilt of a sword came crashing down behind his left ear. Unconsciousness threatened the young Captain. He turned to see the livery of the house of Camlouise. With a faint grown, he feel into blackness.
Caladian heard the sounds of struggle in the bushes. What was happening? Was their conflict within the Melsoimn�s ranks? Hardly, he corrected himself. That wouldn�t happen in a thousand years, and hadn�t. No, someone had ambushed them and were no doubt coming for him. He was horrified at the thought. But three weeks ago he had been sitting at court with his King, his Lady and his young heir. How he longed to see is family. And they were so close! Outrage forced him to start to whirl around to fight, to find the most horrific thing of all, as though the Melsoimns were mere children playing. How he wished his torment to end!
But the Fates would not allow such mercy. As he faces the horrific scene, he nearly succumbed to nausea. As the reminisce of the Melsoimns were slaughtered, Caladian realised what he had gotten himself into. The Melsoimn�s opponents were nearly quadruple the number of them, and fresh and not travel weary. Daggers and swords clashed, the latter almost always winning. Caladian, seeing this as opportune time to escape, turned from the carnage and began to flee. As he started to pick his trail down hill from were he had been, Caladian heard the sounds of pursuers. Jesus! he thought to himself hopelessly. Almost falling down the steep terrain, he hoped he could escape. God! Pain shot through his left leg as he heard a sickening crack! Not wanting to look down he try to press forward, knowing his life forfeit otherwise. Chaos rose within his sole. He couldn�t move his leg and he felt his own blood pounding from it. The sounds of battle were stopping. Cripes! He looked down at his leg and fought down nausea again. His leg was clearly broken, it�s bone sticking the skin. All well, he thought I can do the only thing I can, no matter HOW indigent!
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