Free Sir Dalton and the Shadow Heart by Chuck Black Page A

tunnel opening toward two pine trees with large lower branches that sagged nearly to the ground. He dove beneath the trees, wincing at the pain the motion brought his arm. He looked behind him for pursuers, but there were none. His heart was racing wildly.
    Dalton tried to calm himself and regain his nerves as he considered his next move. He plotted another path farther away from the tunnelopening and moved quickly and quietly to put as much distance as possible between himself and Lord Drox’s henchmen. With each step he took, he dared to wonder if he had truly succeeded.
    After a few more minutes, Dalton’s thoughts turned toward getting his bearing within the region where he found himself. The terrain was a strange mix of trees, brush, grass, sand, and rock. He crawled to the top of a rocky knoll to gain a better vantage point and peered over the top of a boulder, looking back toward the tunnel entrance.
    He discovered that the tunnel was a natural formation in the side of a tall granite wall. As he followed the wall with his eyes, he grew dismayed. The wall continued in both directions and joined again behind him some two hundred paces away, forming a box canyon with no apparent escape.
    He searched the canyon walls for a place he could scale, but they were nearly vertical, a treacherous climb for someone with
two
good arms. Besides this, he realized that even if he could climb the walls, he would be in the open for a long time—easy prey for Drox and the Vinceros.
    There must be another way out of the canyon
, he thought. He decided his only course of action was to follow the canyon walls until he found the way out. With the tunnel entrance to his right, Dalton began to carefully navigate his way along the base of the canyon wall. As he went, he came across the bones of what must have been a prior prisoner. Four inverted horseshoe-shaped stakes held the wrists and feet of the skeletal victim, whose bones the death ravens had presumably picked clean. Dalton knelt down near the skull. He was so appalled and disturbed that he found it difficult to continue.
    How does one become so evil to be able to do such a thing?
he wondered. Righteous anger kindled within him, and he moved onward. As he went, he discovered more heinous sites of execution, and fear began to creep into his mind, robbing him of his courage.
    Had these unfortunate victims tried the very thing he was now attempting? Was his demise inevitable?
    By midafternoon, Dalton had made it three-fourths of the way around the canyon and was nearing the tunnel again. He was thirsty hungry, tired, and frustrated by his lack of success.
    How close to the tunnel dare I go?
he asked himself.
Surely they have discovered my absence by now. Why aren’t they searching for me yet?
    Dalton could not quell the apprehension that rose within him. His search was becoming desperate. He looked ahead and still saw no indication of an opening in the walls of the box canyon.
    His next move required him to travel across an open area with very little cover, but he had no choice if he was to continue. He looked toward the tunnel opening, then slowly walked across the rocky floor of the canyon, ready to drop low at any moment.
    Then he heard it. A low, wicked chortle flowed across the rocky floor and enveloped him like the wispy, dark ghosts of an evil apparition.
    Dalton turned, then froze. He dared not close his eyes, but he wanted to. He thought that perhaps if he closed them long enough he would awaken from this nightmare.
    But the nightmare had just begun…

RETURN TO TIME
    Dalton awoke from his dream of memories and into the reality of a nightmare. The burning pain of Drox’s blade in his abdomen screamed in his mind as well.
    “My Prince, help me!” he cried out as tears fell from the corners of his eyes and ran down his temples…tears of pain, tears of humility, tears of sorrow.
    Dozens of huge double-winged ravens landed near him, and he knew it was only a matter of time