Simon spent more than a week in angry isolation upon the land that he had bought for his now lost love. The supply of food that his men had left him had remained virtually untouched, for he had spent his time drinking from the keg of ale that had been left with it. When he was not drinking, he was sleeping the deep, fogged slumber of the drunken, only to awaken to the need for more ale to quench the burning ache of his heart that threatened to consume him. The keg could not hold forth its precious fluid forever and quickly spent its worth, leaving Simon parched and sober, unable to escape in its solid fumes from the torment of his soul. It was then that he realized his mistake in giving in to his grief. Forced to feel, he was then forced to think. He had always been a man of action, and he was disgusted by his cowardly selfishness that had wasted such precious time.
Simon saddled Silvering on the eighth morning after Leigha’s capture, intent on traveling west along the shoreline of the Gulf of Almirou to the city of Rethimon, where he planned to then make arrangements for passage to Constantinople. He was certain that she would be taken to that slave capital as her beauty was great enough for the sultan himself. Leaving his own horse to graze and go wild, he rode upon Silvering, finding some comfort with the beast that held so many memories of his lovely Leigha. He did not look back as he left his ruined haven; his mind and body were bent on the single purpose of finding a ship to take him to where he thought Leigha would be and to rescue her as quickly as he could from the barbarians that had seized her so brutally from his life. His head now clear of all fumes and tormented dreams, he rode as the warrior that he was on perhaps the greatest mission of his life.
Virginia Lee – “Dagon’s Blood” – Kindle Edition