The Time to Run

Chapter V

"Who's there?" said the raspy voice

Avon hadn't realised how loud she had been. She gulped and poked her head through the door, opening it fully. Then, she walked into the room.
"Avon?" asked Sir Axton.
"Uh... yes. Hello Sir Axton. Such a wonderful day, isn't it?"
His confusion disappeared and his face became serious. "Why are you here?" he interrogated.
"Um... oh-"
"I said, why are you hear?" His usual patience was gone. His tone was harsher than Avon had ever heard it.
"Just came to tell you something, something about the dragons!"
"What did you hear?"
"Um..." she began. "Nothing of importance, Si-"
"What does that mean?"
Beads of sweat fell down Avon's face. She felt paralysed, she couldn't move. She desperately searched for what she had meant, but she couldn't. Avon had seen something, something that could get her killed. A knight in possession of an underworld beast was definitely forbidden. What was she supposed to do?
"Guards!" Sir Axton shouted. Avon did the only thing she could. She ran. Not stoping.
The guards following her were well built, but weighed down with armor. Avon was wearing a cotton tunic, knight's overalls and boots, making her faster and more agile. She ran through the narrow corridors. She ran as if her life depended on it, and it probably did. Avon scurried up a stair case and the knights followed. Around her, Avon could start to see cleaner walls and wooden doors. There were windows dotted across the wall. She was on ground level.
The guards were at her heels. What could she do? Then, she remembered something. She remembered the time she and her brother had messed around in this hall, when they were kids and her father still worked here. Around this area was a passage way. It was old and ridden with dirt. Perhaps it had collapsed by now, but it was her only hope. She had no chance if she ran through the hallways of the castle.
Avon darted around a corner, leaving the knights a few metres behind her. She rushed towards a red tapestry. Avon pulled it back, nearly ripping it off the bar. Behind was an arched alcove. She desperately felt around for an ill-fitting brick. She found it and pressed down with all her strength. There was a small click. The door slid open.
Then a hand gripped her wrist and she was spun round. A knight with several scars on his face had apprehended her. She struggled, unable to be free from his grip. Then she thrust her knee into his groin. He collapsed and she turned round, stepping into the dark, foul-smelling passage.