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I had been ordered by my liege lord to scout the armies of the A'shar and report back to him. They did not ride to make war on my lord this year, but if they did not do so next year, it would surely be the year after that.
And yet, to all who saw me, whether they knew of my orders or not, they would say I had failed. I half sat, half stood in an iron cage suspended off the ground. The prison of a thief, left to die of starvation and thirst at a crossroads. Left to die as a warning to others, and as a sign of the lack of mercy of the A'shar.
From my cage, though, I was able to watch the A'shar ride by. It was a mocking kind of safety. I was expected to die a torturous death under the sun, as lesson to others. Ironically, this made me safe from the casual cruelty of the A'shar, which they inflicted on any who crossed them, even each other.
Column after column. The finest cavalry in the world, it was said, and only fools said otherwise. Column after column, seemingly without end. I kept track of their numbers, as best I could.
The A'Shar rode against a northern lord this year. One, it is said, who insulted them. But the A'Shar need little reason to make war. They considered themselves the true masters of our world. Not in a hundred years had they met defeat on a battlefield. Now, most lands would rather parley or surrender rather then face their might. Even the great walled city-state of Chaigur, whose outer walls were ten feet thick and of stone... even they did not have the might to withstand the A'shar.
Finally, after hours, with the sun low in the sky, the last of the A'shar had ridden by. As night fell, and it became uncomfortably cold, I reached up to the lock of the cage and removed the piece of cord holding the door closed. Mighty in battle the A'shar might be, but no one would grant them great cunning. They would never consider that someone might place themselves in a thieves' torment to spy on them. With luck, my pony would still be tied up in the thicket I had left it in, a mile to the south, and I would be reporting to my lord in a week's time.
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Nope. No idea where this came from either.
And yet, to all who saw me, whether they knew of my orders or not, they would say I had failed. I half sat, half stood in an iron cage suspended off the ground. The prison of a thief, left to die of starvation and thirst at a crossroads. Left to die as a warning to others, and as a sign of the lack of mercy of the A'shar.
From my cage, though, I was able to watch the A'shar ride by. It was a mocking kind of safety. I was expected to die a torturous death under the sun, as lesson to others. Ironically, this made me safe from the casual cruelty of the A'shar, which they inflicted on any who crossed them, even each other.
Column after column. The finest cavalry in the world, it was said, and only fools said otherwise. Column after column, seemingly without end. I kept track of their numbers, as best I could.
The A'Shar rode against a northern lord this year. One, it is said, who insulted them. But the A'Shar need little reason to make war. They considered themselves the true masters of our world. Not in a hundred years had they met defeat on a battlefield. Now, most lands would rather parley or surrender rather then face their might. Even the great walled city-state of Chaigur, whose outer walls were ten feet thick and of stone... even they did not have the might to withstand the A'shar.
Finally, after hours, with the sun low in the sky, the last of the A'shar had ridden by. As night fell, and it became uncomfortably cold, I reached up to the lock of the cage and removed the piece of cord holding the door closed. Mighty in battle the A'shar might be, but no one would grant them great cunning. They would never consider that someone might place themselves in a thieves' torment to spy on them. With luck, my pony would still be tied up in the thicket I had left it in, a mile to the south, and I would be reporting to my lord in a week's time.
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Nope. No idea where this came from either.