Massively Exclusive: RuneScape excerpt, page 3
He watched some gypsies at the roadside, the lights of their caravan luminescent in the blackness. The land of his youth had had gypsies, as well, hardier folk than these travellers, accustomed to the land they were living in and its unforgiving way of life. Those people knew their place, but here the people were soft, well-nourished, peace-loving, and unsuspecting.
He knew he shouldn't attempt it. But the risk that such an adventure suggested, here in these fatted lands, served to spur on his appetite.
A plump child wandered to the edge of the darkness, and he drooled. He heard the sharp cry of a young woman's voice, calling to her son, and recalled the week before when he had dragged another woman from the roadside, excited by her fear.
I am spoiling myself, he thought, his red eyes glowing under the still trees.
It was still dark when the sound awoke Theodore, a noise that instantly set him on edge, his hand grasping his sword instinctively.
Something was moving nearby, something big was forcing its way through the briar circle that sheltered him. He breathed out slowly, silently, waiting for the intruder to come closer. Yet with each second his fear grew.
I am a squire of Falador, Theodore told himself. Fear is paralysis. Fear is a greater enemy than any mortal foe.
He moved swiftly, his cumbersome armour giving him away as he stood, his sword drawn back in readiness. As he summoned his breath to give a yell of challenge, the briar parted and an animal's wizened head appeared through the thicket. The moment it saw him, the creature's dark eyes widened in fear.
"A badger!" he breathed as the intruder scurried off, loping swiftly into the darkness. He glanced at his mare, noting that she hadn't moved-indeed, she seemed barely awake-and he was reminded of an old maxim of the knights. Evil to he who thinks evil. It was the talk of the travellers that had set him on edge, putting thoughts of vicious beasts in his mind. Meanwhile his mare displayed the wisdom of all animal kind, dreaming in an untroubled sleep, oblivious to the fears of humanity.
Fear, Theodore told himself, as he lay back down on the earth still warmed from his sleep. Fear is the greatest enemy.
He had ridden for two hours before he came across the caravan, just beyond the tenth mile marker that indicated the distance to Taverley. He had left before daybreak, catching only an hour's added sleep after his rude awakening, unable to relax enough to get any more.
He noted the soldiers first, standing away from the brightly colored wagon, its red tint gleaming in the morning sunlight.
As he rode closer he noted the blanched faces of the men and their suspicious glances as they looked toward him.