Ghelfunn opened his eyes but could see nothing. Everything within sight was a blur. He wanted to rub his eyes, but his hands were bound behind his back. He was lying on his left side. The dizziness was beginning to clear, but the back of his head painfully ached as if he had been kicked by a horse. Then suddenly, two men, one on each arm, raised him up on his knees. A moment passed before he steadied himself enough to discover where he was--the Sovereign's war room tent.
The two men released their grip on his arms, then stood behind him. He looked to the left. Standing near the perimeter of the tent, Ghelfunn saw a few men from the Sovereign's rear guard, one leaning on a support pole picking his teeth. Two others were talking to each other, laughing, pointing at him. Numerous maps of the battlefield hung on the walls, some with red color markings. He faintly smelled food. Lunch, he thought. To his right, he was surprised to see a group of Nprudi horsemen huddled together, talking about something that interested them deeply. Ghelfunn lowered his head and spit out a stream of blood. He felt nauseated, the ringing in his ears making him feel off balance. The light shining through the entrance to the tent was painful, so he closed his eyes. The darkness returned. A moment later he fainted, falling on his right side. The two men behind him quickly grabbed his arms again, raising him once more to his knees. His thighs began to burn with pain, he groaned as a cramp worked its way from his left foot upward to the calf muscle. He tried to straighten his leg out but the man on his right slammed a fist into his ribs.
"That's enough," a voice calmly said. "Let's not kill him. Not yet anyway."
Margon walked into the tent and stood in front of Ghelfunn, leaning down to look directly into his prisoner's eyes. He smiled. Margon then walked over to a table containing a platter of food and cups full of water. He took a piece of meat, rolled it between his fingers, and took a bite.
Turning to Ghelfunn, he said, "You hungry? Looks like you missed lunch."
Ghelfunn looked up and said nothing.
"That's okay. Your head will clear. I imagine you are still somewhat dizzy. That blow to the head was more severe than I would have liked--I apologize. My men are loyal but tend to be a bit too aggressive."
"What's going on," Ghelfunn asked, blood dripping down from his head wound. He spit again, this time toward Margon. "You are Margon, right? The queen's safeguard?"
"I am," Margon responded. "You might say I'm her right and left hands--and both feet. I command her personal guard." Margon took another bite of meat, then picked up a glass of water, taking a drink. "We have met, you know. You are just a little confused right now. Is your head feeling any better?"
"I am more than a little confused," Ghelfunn said. "Why are you dressed like a Nprudi horseman?"
"So many questions. I know you are curious about what you have seen. And we will get to that. But for now, I have a question."
Ghelfunn's headache was beginning to ease, but the cramp in his left leg was still bothering him. His knees were digging into the tent's floor causing him to shift weight from his right to the left. If I could just stand up, maybe I'd feel more like talking, he thought.
"What's your question," Ghelfunn asked.
