Kion

It was simple. If they couldn’t get away, they had to find their way through. Kion wished he could have taken clothing and armor from one of the men he had slain, but there hadn’t been time.

Pressing himself flat against the ground, he tried to sink into the earth by sheer force of will. Next to him lay Livadios. The craftsman from Piro was likely going through the same mental exercise right now.

To their left, less than fifteen paces away, another group of warriors passed by. They carried spears, axes, and shields. And of course, bows. Lots of bows. It wasn’t the first group that had passed them but thus far none of the men had spotted them in the dark.

And none have turned back, yet, Kion thought. While he couldn’t make out individual voices, the noise from the beach was increasing. The Assanaten were launching the boats, following what they thought was the intruder’s escape route.

Kion’s ruse was working. At least until somebody looked into the shack and found his raft. Then all those warriors would flood back to search any last corner of the camp.

They had no time to lose.

After waiting and listening for another couple of heartbeats, Kion carefully lifted his head out of the foot-high grass. Staying as far as possible away from the path leading from the village down to the beach, he and Livadios had covered about half the distance to the village.

Ahead, half covered by a house, the first fire came in sight. Against its light, the silhouettes of men brandishing weapons were easy to see.

One corner of his mouth coming up in a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Kion shook his head. It was something he’d learned as a child thieving in the streets of Saggab. The nightwatchmen were useless as long as you kept away from the light. The warriors, that had just passed them by, had stared into their fires all night. It had blinded their eyes to the darkness of night.

Kion could feel a strong urge to press himself against the ground again and stay in place. He knew it was born from fear. A fear that wanted to make you freeze in place and embrace the false safety of the moment. Knowing that time was against them, he fought it down.

Staying low he angled to the right, leading them to the back wall of one of the outer houses. As they robbed closer, the risk of discovery increased but there was no other way. Of course, sneaking right through the village was impossible. They had to circle around it, staying as deep in the shadows as they could.

Reaching the dark wall, he came up to a crouch. He could feel the surface structure of the wooden beams against his naked side. It had been many years since he’d last hidden away in the dark from armed men scouring the streets. The houses of Saggab were built from mud brigs and there was a constant stench of thousands of people living tightly packed together in too small a space.

Livadios joined him, almost pressing against his back. Kion knew he was afraid. Huddled closely together, he could hear it in his breathing. To his surprise, the man hadn’t said a single word since the beach. Even when they’d climbed the slope again on the other end and started robbing toward the village, he hadn’t protested or even hesitated. It seemed Livadios had put his fate entirely in Kion’s hands.

He took another breath and started to move forward. The darkness was the only thing on their side. That and speed. If they could stay ahead of the Assanaten’s search effort, they had a chance to find a way out of this death trap. With the enemy warriors streaming toward the beach, they might leave openings on the other end of the camp that could be exploited. Or so I hope, Kion thought. Not that anything he’d seen from Assanadon’s men led him to believe that they were prone to simple mistakes.

Reaching the end of the wall, he quickly glanced around the corner. When he didn’t see anybody, he reached back and tapped Livadios' side twice. “When I do this, get ready for a sprint,” he whispered over his shoulder. “Fast and silent.”

With another peek, he gave the signal and sprinted to the next house, immediately crouching again. A heartbeat later, Livadios joined him.

Kion nodded. “Good.”

And so they continued, always keeping to the darkest spots close to the wall. They moved from shadow to shadow, occasionally freezing in place without breathing when warriors passed by.

All of them headed in the direction of the beach, paying little attention to their immediate surroundings. The idea that the intruder might have penetrated deep into the village seemed not to have occurred to any of them. Yet.

Logger’s Home was small. Ahead the end of the solid wooden houses was already in sight. Beyond them, a sea of tents stretched out into the darkness.

As Kion observed shadows moving in the alleys between the rows, a sinking feeling appeared in his stomach. We’re never going to make it. There was no chance. The enemy was too coordinated and the distance to the tree line was too far. In the dark, could hardly see what lay ahead. Where were the guards stationed? How many were there? If he tried to just lead them through the sea of tents it would surely be their end. He needed a better plan.

Desperately watching the activity ahead, he searched for a weakness, a hole he could slip through.

As he cowered there, pressed against the ground he could hear the rummaging inside the house next to him. Orders were shouted and sleepy men cursed, trying to find their way in the dark.

Listening to the familiar sounds of warriors struggling into their clothing and gathering their gear, Kion had another idea. It was another risky gamble but as it stood, their situation couldn’t get any more dangerous anyway. Even if they continued to succeed in evading the Assanaten in the dark, dawn would come eventually.

The inhabitants of the tents closest to the village had naturally been alarmed first. The Assanaten’s tents stood low, barely as high as a man’s hip and Kion saw the warriors crawl out of their mobile dwellings and gather into groups before running off in one direction or another.

Making his choice, he went down on his belly again and started to cross the short gap between the village and the first row of tents. Reaching the lines holding up the closest, he came up to all fours and circled around to the entrance. The flap covering it was down, hiding the inside from view. Kion carefully opened a gap, glancing into the darkness inside. When he could neither see nor hear anything, he slipped inside.

Livadios followed him, pulling the flap shut behind himself. Crouching in absolute darkness, he let go of a sigh.

Kion could understand how he felt. Sneaking through the camp, he had felt exposed and vulnerable. Being enclosed by the thin tent canvas gave a sense of security. At least for a moment, he felt invisible to the countless enemies surrounding them. As long as the tent’s owners didn’t suddenly return, they were the safest they’d been since leaving the beach behind.

It was difficult, but he forced himself to relax a little. As always, praying helped. Silently going through the familiar litany, he’d recited countless times before, he began to search the absent residents’ belongings. He couldn’t see much but he’d spent many nights in tents just like this and the only recently abandoned blankets helped him to orient himself.

His pickings were disappointing. He found one of the pants the Assanaten warriors wore that was too long by half a hand and a shirt that seemed to belong to somebody closer to Ipras’ size. At least that was what it felt like to Kion when he had to roll up his sleeves and legs and bind a tent cord around his waist to hold it all together.

“Livadios,” Kion whispered, “I want you to stay here and wait until I come back.” He hadn’t spoken a word in quite a while and it felt a bit strange to suddenly break the silence.

At first, the other man didn’t respond but when Kion tried to crawl past him, he suddenly reached out, holding on to Kion’s sleeve. “Please, don’t leave me here.” His whisper was low and his tone almost pleading.

Kion put his hand over the one holding onto him. “I won’t,” he said, slowly peeling off the craftsman’s fingers, “but I have to find us more clothing. It will be faster and safer if I go alone.” He reached out with his other hand, cupping the man’s neck “I brought you all the way here. I’m not going to leave you behind on the last hundred paces.” He squeezed a little. “Wait here for me. I’ll be back soon.”

Livadios' expression was invisible in the darkness but after two heartbeats, he reluctantly nodded his head.

Kion mirrored his gesture before turning towards the flap.

Leaving the tent behind, he felt a little less vulnerable. Not that the scratchy fabric hugging his shoulders would stop a blade any better than his naked skin, but if he died at least he wouldn’t have to face Inashtar in a loincloth.

Still, what he needed to pass as an Assanaten at least on a first glance, he hadn’t found in the tent. Not that he had expected to.

As he snuck deeper into the camp, he kept his eyes open for an opportunity, but the enemy seemed to always move in groups. Most lights were gathered on a main road, leading away from the village. Dozens of shadowy outlines came from the surrounding tents, gathered in groups at the road, and then rushed either towards the village or in the opposite direction.

Kion intentionally angled away from the road and the lights, searching the darkness for a lone prayer. After a while, of ducking from tent to tent, he came across a well-tret path. To the left it led to the road and to the right, thirty paces away, he could see a small fireplace. Two lonely guards stood next to the fire, both turned in the direction of the bustling main road.

Kion could hear them silently talk to each other. He didn’t crouch far away but blinded by the fire next to them he might as well have been invisible to the men.

Since a single shout could bring down the whole camp on him, Kion would have preferred to ambush a lone victim in some remote corner. Looking over his shoulder, it was clear that the gods wouldn’t make it so easy for him. The activity along the main road was only increasing.

Right now, the Assanaten’s focus was still on the beach. When they finally realized that the intruder hadn’t fled that way, they would turn back and begin an organized search of the camp. They would be lucky to stay undiscovered until dawn.

Turning back to the two lone warriors, he planned his approach. He couldn’t give them the chance to give alarm, which meant he had to get close before they sensed the danger.

Pressing his lips together, he retreated backward from his vantage point and began to circle around the fireplace, always keeping several rows of tents between himself and the guards. With their attention on the bustle on the main road, his best chance was to sneak up on them from the other direction.

“Who goes there?”

Kion froze in place. Did they see me?

“You there with the spear,” one of the warriors said, “come over here where we can see you.”

Kion’s mind razed. Should he run? If he sprinted as fast as he could, maybe he could lose them long enough to make it to the outer defenses. If he surprised the guards there, he might be able to break through. But I would have to leave Livadios behind, he thought.

Or he could rush them. Glancing sideways, he noticed the tense posture of the two men. He would never reach them before they could raise their arms and call for help.

Kion raised his empty hand and walked slowly closer. “Just coming from the latrines.” He did his best to imitate the Assanaten accent but kept his answers short just to be sure.

Blinking, one of the warriors stepped around the fire, to get a better look at Kion who kept outside the illuminated circle. “I didn’t even see him,” he murmured to his comrade.

“I told you not to stare directly into the flames all night,” his comrade, an older man, said.

Just a bit more, Kion thought, coming out from between the tents. It was a tricky situation. He needed to get closer but the moment he stepped into the light of the fire, his charade would likely be exposed immediately. While their people didn’t look much different, Kion’s lack of the traditionally styled beard alone would give him away immediately.

“Who is your chief?” the younger guard asked. Looking Kion up and down, his shoulders relaxed, and lowered the arm holding the axe. “Everybody here ran off half an hour ago.”

Kion shook his head. “Damn diarrhea.”

“But the food was really good recently,” the younger warrior said. Despite his words, his expression showed sympathy. Bad food and all its consequences were a common part of camp life.

Kion shrugged. “Missed my last offering.” He was now close enough to reach the warrior with two long steps. The problem was that his comrade hadn’t moved from his spot.

“That’s just foolish,” the veteran said, from the other side of the fire. “Unless you set out to die, always say your prayers and make your sacrifices. Damn rookies.” Then he waved his shield at Kion. “You better find your chief before you get punished.”

Both men had relaxed and looked expectantly at Kion. Between the three of them, only Kion was aware of the deadlock they were in. He was close enough to reach the younger one, who had stopped coming toward him. But to moment he struck, the veteran would shout. Just walk away, he thought.

“I’ll be off,” he said, turning around.

“Wait,” the veteran said.

Kion froze in his tracks. “Hm?” He turned just enough to hopefully not look suspicious.

“Why did you come from over there?” the older warrior asked. “The latrines are that way.” He pointed down the path with his head.

His younger comrade frowned, looking like he needed a moment to think that through.

Kion tried to think of a quick excuse but nothing would come to mind. The silence is stretching too long, he thought. Any moment now he would see frowns turn into suspicion, shoulders would tense and when the weapons were raised it would be too late. “…the wine.”

Four eyes widened and the two men exchanged a quick glance. The younger shrugged as if to say that he didn’t know anything.

“What wine?” the veteran asked, a different kind of suspicion now showing on his face.

“From that settlement,” Kion said, continuing to keep his replies short. “The chief hid the amphora.” He pointed down the dark alley between the tents.

The veteran let out a quick hard laugh. “Latrines, right!”

Taking a couple heartbeats to understand, the younger man now grinned at Kion.

“We could share?” Kion asked.

Again, the two warriors looked at each other.

“Sure,” the older said, almost smiling this time.

Kion nodded. He’d been in the army long enough to know that warriors took their pleasure wherever and whenever they could. This life was hard and often short. One had to take what the gods provided.

“Come.” He waved to the younger man. “Help me search.”

Hearing the warrior’s steps behind him following him into the shadows between the tents, Kion couldn’t help but smile. Goddess be blessed.