I wondered where the knights were taking their prisoners and felt sick knowing that there was nothing I could do about it. I was traveling alone in hopes of avoiding any unwanted attention, and, more importantly, I had to meet the boat docked in Ventolines by dusk if I was to sail to Eryx tonight.
“I hope you are all stronger than you appear,” said one of the knights.
“If you aren’t, then you won’t last more than a minute in the pits,” another knight said, causing the rest of the Goth men-at-arms to laugh.
I shuddered. The prisoners were headed to King Iodoc’s warrior-pits, where they would become gladiators forced to fight to the death, purely for the evil king’s enjoyment. My stomach rolled, leaving me nauseous. What could I do? How could I help the prisoners? I stood motionless, trying to think of a plan as they traveled onward, getting farther away from me.
Then it dawned on me. I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t stand by and let the prisoners be doomed to a fighting death. I disregarded the instructions sent to me in the letter from Queen Nikolette and mounted my horse. Keeping a safe distance between myself and the small group, I followed them down the path.
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