by John Migacz
CHAPTER 35
Saladar had lost them. He rose up in his stirrups for one last look down the trail. For the past two days he had avoided the highwaymen by only the slimmest margin.
“Curse me for being generous!” he said to no one. Spending too freely at a Freetown inn several days ago, the very men he had been buying drinks for tried to rob him. He had just enough time to gather his gold and belongings together in a mad dash out the window before they battered down his door. The innkeeper must have been in on it too! I’ll get him as well! He made a mental note to be more careful in the future, and patted the purple sack of gold tied to his saddle.
Just touching it made him feel secure. He never had to work again. No one could tell him what to do. He could buy anything or anyone he wanted. With his brains and this much gold, he could go far – if he could just figure out where he was. While losing the robbers, he had ridden in a wild chase through uninhabited areas. He was in the arid lands, far southeast of Freetown, that much he knew. Saladar wiped his forehead and squeezed the last drops from his water bag into his mouth. He needed to find water, and soon.
He rode along until he spotted a little greenery not too far down a blind canyon. Where there was green there was water. He spurred his luse into the mouth of the canyon. At the rear, he found a little stand of trees and a small pool surrounded by grass.
“Perfect!” He dismounted, put his head in the water and splashed some on his back to cool off. “Ahhh… A good spot,” he said aloud. Glancing around, he decided to camp there for the night. He gathered sticks for a fire and unsaddled his luse, putting it on a long line for grazing. Oblivious to the beautiful sunset, he lay down to rest.
He never noticed the many pairs of black eyes set in blue faces that had been watching him since he entered the canyon. As the sun set, thin nictitating membranes slid aside, and red eyes glowed.