Chapter thirteenFirmly, she said: “We’ll have to run for it, cabbage.”
Without hesitation or any stupid suicidal heroics, I agreed.
Mind you, by Zair, that brash young Dray Prescot who’d first landed on Kregen might well have gone whooping down on the black-robed fanatics brandishing his sword. Had I been alone I believe I might well have seriously considered that as an option. Running away from enemies was not a habit of mine. Discretion, as they say in Clishdrin, may be the better part of valor; but Valor, as they say in Valka, is the better part of the Person.
We hopped and skipped over the rocks and darted aside from the clutching tendrils of that damned unhealthy syatra and so went running helter-skelter into the mouth of a tunnel.
A foul stench gusted up, as of congested sewers.
