Marus did not take much with him, as he did not intend to go too far from the village. He packed some food in his pannier, put on his weapon belt, and said goodbye to his father. He prepared the horse for the road by attaching a leather colt and bedding to its back with appropriate thongs. The young horse was calm, as he was already accustomed to Marus' presence. He had been taking care of it since it was a foal and sometimes gave it pieces of apple. Marus mounted the horse and made a few circles with it in the corral, so that the animal became familiar with the functioning of the bridle and got used to the weight. After some time, he managed to get the horse into a trot, which meant that the animal had become accustomed to its rider and was ready to go.
When Marus left the hut, the sun was already hanging over the treetops. He decided to head west, as there was a sacred grove he intended to visit to pray to the gods and visit the souls of his dead ancestors who inhabited the sacred trees.
Along the way, he reflected on what his father had told him about Ayte. He realized that he had entered an age when it was appropriate for him to take a wife. Eventually he would be forced to choose a girl anyway, whether from his village or a neighboring one. So why not choose Ayte now, who was a pretty and nice girl whom he knew well? His father had made it clear to him that in his eyes she would be a good candidate for his wife, and his parents' opinion always counted most in these matters. Marus reconsidered the whole matter and decided that when he returned he would ask his father to send the blacksmith as matchmaker to Ayte's parents.
It was past noon and the sun had already begun to sink slowly down when Marus arrived at the sacred grove. There were many massive oak trees that had stood here since ancient times. Their crowns with thick branches reached high into the sun, obscuring the sky. The roots, partly sticking out of the ground, were covered with a green layer of moss. Marus jumped off his horse onto the soft ground, fell to his knees and reverently kissed the ground. He was not overly God-fearing, but he respected the traditions and beliefs of his people, who lived and acted by them.
He tied his horse to the nearest trunk and set off alone into the woods, looking for the right tree. Soon he found it. A huge oak tree, larger than the others, with the faces of the three greatest gods carved into its bark. He lowered his gaze slightly and walked closer, pulling out some of the food he had taken with him from his pouch and placed it with anointing in the roots of the great tree among the remains of his previous offerings. Slowly he retreated back and knelt before the tree. His lips moved as he quietly pronounced a prayer for the dead and then for prosperity for the living. Only then did he get up and start walking back towards the entrance of the forest where he had left his horse.
He heard them first before he saw them. To his ears came the rustling of last year's leaves and the sound of twigs breaking under the boots of figures walking through the forest. Marus hid quickly behind one of the oak trees and cautiously looked out from behind the trunk. Silhouettes of a dozen or so figures flitted between the trees. They moved about, talking in a strange language that Marus could not understand. He knew one thing, the strangers in front of him outnumbered him, and he was alone and far from home. To make matters worse, these men were heading straight for where he had left his horse. If they found him they would surely guess that he was nearby and start looking for him.
Marus now had two choices. He could throw himself into flight, leaving the horse behind. Losing the animal would be a great loss to his father, but it gave him a better chance of saving his life. However, there was no certainty that these people would not move after him. Besides, he himself had also put a lot of time and effort into raising horses at the farm and did not want to simply give it up. Therefore, Marus chose the second, riskier option.
He dashed forward, toward his horse, as fast as he could. He was finally spotted just as he reached him. With trembling hands, he untied the reins and jumped on its back. The horse danced in alarm, and before he could get it under control, the shouts of the warriors came rushing towards him at full speed.
- Stadei! Stadei!
The young horse stood up on his hind legs in terror. Marus held tightly to his sides with his legs to keep from falling. He leaned back a bit and then felt a thump in his chest as the javelin spearhead slammed into his body. The force of the impact knocked him off his horse and Marus fell heavily to the ground.
The alien warrior approached him with his sword drawn and looked at the deeply embedded javelin that was sticking out of Marus' chest. He also noticed that he was still conscious.
- Rodeis gutiska razda? - he asked the question.
Marus could say nothing as blood rushed to his mouth and filled his larynx. The warrior, without waiting for an answer, grabbed the javelin and ripped it from his body, helping himself with his leg. He did not wait for the man to die, but unbuckled his weapon belt and fastened it around him with undisguised satisfaction, then searched him thoroughly. In the meantime, the two warriors nearest to them had managed to grab the reins of the raging horse. An intense argument ensued between them, probably over who would own the horse now. Soon the rest of the warriors reached them.
Marus, lying motionless on the ground, no longer saw it. His eyes began to cloud over with fog, and the sounds blended into a uniform hum. He already knew he was dying. In a flash of consciousness, his lips began to move in a brief prayer to the god of death, Pikulas, before everything around him died away and disappeared into the darkness.
