Child of Moss, .85

Lugh fumbled in the pouch on his belt in the small of his back and succeeded in not being trampled by nervous horses, the fence post that he leaned against both protected him from hooves and, he hoped, the prying eye of Gol MacMorna.  His fingers found and drew out the packets of powders and magics that had saved him before, and he hoped that what he had grabbed, somewhat indiscriminately, would serve.

“I know you’re there, you sneak.” shouted Gol, somewhere in the dark near the stable. “It’s no use you hiding.  There’s more coming than me, but they’re like to strike you down on sight.  I know the queen, most like, would want you alive for awhile.” Gol laughed, a nasty cackle, “Maybe the Maines would serve you better, quicker at least.”

Lugh threw his bundles behind the hooves of the milling horses, who were unsure if escape from the corral or the safety of it was their best course.  The flash and boom and smoke of Lugh’s pyrotechnics decided it for the horses who dashed off into the night. Lugh rose and moved rapidly along the fenceline back toward the wall. He heard shouting and there was some torchlight, but he left that all behind feeling his way silently along the palisade. This is the North side of the fort and nearby is the sacred grove and druids who are more like to favor me than anyone on this side of Gormflaith’s wall.

Darkness reined in this corner of the fort, and noise of pursuit was far off. Lugh slipped through the rails of the fence and began to feel each timber as he moved along the palisade fence until he felt a gap. The post he’d found was an old and knotty one, and here and there on both sides of it were good purchase for his hands and feet. Lugh paused to listen for pursuit and hearing none, and seeing nothing at all, he began his climb up and over the palisade fence by feel.

Finding footholds by touch as one climbs down is more difficult and the ascent anyway, and the post was likely set with the least climbable side to any potential enemy. Suddenly, Lugh’s foothold gave way at the same time he let go one hand and with a rush he slid down the rough wood and landed hard on his feet on a grassy slope. The dew drenched grass was as slick as mud and Lugh banged knees and then chin on the same landing place before sliding away and down the slope.

Stunned, Lugh stiffled a shout. Lugh slide, Spread eagle, desperately grabbing for any purchase to slow his slide into the moat. Suddenly his foot struck, caught and wrenched with a sickening jolt, and then his thigh struck stopping his lower body but sending his head and shoulders hard into something unyielding.