Kion

Lights flickered through the entrance flap’s narrow gap as dozens of men ran past the tent. As they lay flat holding their breath, Kion thought he could feel the vibration of feet hitting the ground all around them.

Starting a fire had been a huge risk. He’d essentially created a beacon, telling anybody in the whole camp his location, and now the Assanaten warriors were closing in from all directions.

But that had been the point. When fighting a careful opponent, Kion might thrust his spear at a part of his opponent’s body just to force a reaction. When his opponent defended, he inevitably opened himself up somewhere else. Controlling your enemy’s movement was one of the fastest ways to end a fight. It wasn’t as good as stabbing him in the back before he saw you coming, but way more satisfying. I just never tried it on three hundred men at once, Kion thought as he waited for the noise to subside.

If everything went well, a large part of the Assanaten force would shift to that part of the camp, assuming that the fire had been started unintentionally during a fight. Once most of them had run past, they would slip through their weekend lines somewhere else. Or at least that was the idea. They couldn’t wait for too long. Once the warriors noticed that they weren’t there, they would turn around and spread out again.

Kion carefully parted the tent flap with his fingers. Around them, the night had fallen dark again, so he risked sticking his head out to take a look. Way down the lane a couple of figures stood gesturing but close by everything seemed to be quiet. “Wait here,” he whispered into the darkness.

Staying low, he crawled out and around the corner. In the small gap between tents, he came to a low crouch and orientated himself. It was only now that he could see the yellow and orange light in the not-too-far distance. Apparently, the fire he’d started was spreading. The dry fabric of the tent canvas was very flammable and the small distance between the tents made it easy for the flames to jump from one to the next.

Kion could see the shadows of a hundred men running back and forth, probably taking down tents to keep the fire from eating through more of the camp. He couldn’t help but smile. When he was a child, Assanaten magi had set a large part of Saggab ablaze. The nightmare of that day was deeply ingrained in anybody who had witnessed it.

The magi had been part of an embassy reaching the city when Nasser-Umabona had been away on his ill-fated conquest of Riadnos. The sar had returned home as quickly as possible but had to leave a sizable part of his best troops behind. With the city itself paralyzed and unable to send reinforcements the Saggabian force he let against the Assanaten invasion was completely destroyed. On that day Saggab lost almost half its territory. Nasser-Umabona’s body was never recovered, and his son Nasser-Zeribona spent the next decade struggling to stabilize his rule.

It was unlikely that the fire would kill anybody and the losses in material would be insignificant. But still, seeing the Assanaten frantically fighting the flames and knowing that many of them would spend future nights outside under the stars brought some warmth to Kion’s heart.

Committing the scene to memory, he turned away. His first instinct was to get away as quickly as possible, but just heading for the opposite side of the camp was something his pursuers would surely anticipate. The magus and his retinue had come to find them at the outer defenses, not the lake. It was likely that the rest of the guards stationed around the camp had been alarmed by now. They could only hope that the news, that the intruder was disguised, hadn’t spread yet. Soon everybody would be on the lookout for two lonely warriors not meeting anybody’s eyes.

He leaned down putting his head close to the canvas. “Come out and turn left. And stay low.”

While he waited for Livadios to join him, he tried to make up his mind about where to turn.

“So many people,” Livadios whispered. “More chaotic than the morning before a great market.”

Looking over his shoulder again, the light from the fire allowed Kion to see the smoke rising into the sky. The movement of the silhouettes which had been frantic at first, was now more coordinated. “It just looks that way,” he said absentmindedly. “Those men know what they’re doing.”

“…so does any merchant and stallholder at the market,” Livadios murmured.

Kion let him be. Considering the strain he felt in their current predicament, he couldn’t imagine how it must be for the young craftsman. One way or another they had to bring some distance between themself and the chaos behind them. Do we? He suddenly thought.

He’d been a thief long enough to know how best to lose a pursuer in the city. Making his decision he turned around and headed back the way they’d come.

“What’re you doing?” Livadios asked urgently. His voice betrayed panic but he still followed closely behind.

“Where do street urchins run after stealing from your stall?” Kion whispered nodding ahead.

“Those rats usually steal food…” He stopped midsentence maybe realizing what Kion meant. To his credit, he didn’t turn and run.

As they came closer, Kion got a better look at the destruction he’d caused. There wasn’t just one fire. To his right, he passed two men trying to stamp out a single tent. Further ahead a chief of ten barked orders at a group taking down tents and moving them away as quickly as possible.

“There’s another one,” a warrior shouted close by. His eyes following the man’s outstretched arm, Kion spotted another fire jumping up in the sea of darkness behind him.

“How far did that beast get?” another asked.

“You two,” the chief of ten shouted, “go take it down before the ones around catch fire too!”

Kion pulled Livadios into the shadows, while the chosen men ran past. One of them had his cap wrapped around his face. Usually, the cloth was worn in this manner to protect against sand and dust. Here it protected against the smoke.

Smiling, Kion gave Livadios a nudge and took off his own. Inashtar was protecting him once more.

Trying to seem as if they belonged, they made their way past the groups of warriors working to contain the damage. Their hands and clothing were grimy from the ash, and most had covered their faces. The fires weren’t big. The tents just weren’t large enough to give the flames much to consume but the smoke was significant.

Choosing a path near the strongest sources of smoke, they came closer and closer to the end of the camp. Twice they stopped to give a hand in pulling down tents to save them from the flames. They used these opportunities to add some more grime to their disguise. The smoke bit into Kion’s eyes but he happily accepted the discomfort knowing it would distract the warriors around him from noticing the strangers among them.

When they eventually stepped out of the smoke on the other side, Kion saw that the outermost rows of tents had already been taken down. The warriors were piling the rolled-up canvases and other supplies at the wall, as far away from flying sparks as they could. Inashtar is truly smiling on me, he thought.

Kion led them straight to the closest group. “Let me help you,” he murmured to a warrior who was just about to pick up a large bag. The man only gave him a quick glance, seeing nothing more than another comrade covered in soot from head to toe, and grunted. He handed over the bag and turned to the next item lying before them on the ground.

Kion handed the bag to Livadios and picked up a roll of canvas. Nodding toward the growing pile, they stepped out into the empty space between the tents and the outer defenses. His eyes darted left and right taking in his surroundings.

They’d come out a little bit further away from the main road than the spot from which they’d fled. The magus and his retinue were gone and so were most of the guards. There were still some bowmen, standing in groups of two or three along the low wall but Kion didn’t worry about them. It was still dark and the men’s attention was on the chaos behind him. As long as they made it over the wall and the ditch beyond, he was confident they would reach the tree line before anybody noticed and then made the decision to plant an arrow in the back of somebody wearing the same armor.

As Kion carried the role of canvas over to the pile, he kept track of the position and movement of everybody around him. The radius he had to cover was large, much larger than in most fights. But here the people around him weren’t permanently adjusting what they did based on his own actions. As long as he didn’t do anything suspicious, everybody would just continue to go about their current task.

Reaching the pile, Kion slowed down his pace, allowing another warrior to overtake them. The man threw his bundle to the ground and jogged back, without so much as looking at Kion or Livadios.

Kion lifted his role on top and pretended to adjust its position, all the while waiting for the perfect moment. “Put the bag down there at the left end of the pile.”

The bowman to the left had just spit to the side and was about to turn back to his comrade.

“Pretend like you’re doing something,” Kion said when Livadios dropped his burden. “Adjust its position.”

A warrior was coming out of the wall of smoke, but he was facing the ground, bending forward under his burden.

Kion joined Livadios’ site, going down on a knee as if he were reaching into the bag. “When I say, roll over the wall and let yourself drop on the other side.”

The craftsman stiffened but didn’t protest and the man who’d reached the pile before Kion showed no signs of looking back. There were over a dozen people around and Kion tracked all of them.

And then he saw his moment coming. For two heartbeats worth of time, They would be in nobody’s field of vision. Setting his feet, Kion went through the motions that would carry him over the wall in his head. “Now.” In one fluent movement, he threw his spear over the wall, pushed himself up until his hips reached the height of the ledge, and rolled over. Sliding down on the other side, he landed in a crouch in the narrow ditch. Half a heartbeat later Livadios dropped clumsily next to him.

The other man had apparently forgotten about the ditch and fallen awkwardly on his site. Kion quickly covered his mouth to smother a cry of surprise and pain. Both men froze in place.

Nothing, Kion thought after listening for two heartbeats. No call for alarm, no sound of running feet. He slowly retracted his hand from Livadios’ mouth.

Straightening a bit, he glanced over the edge of the ditch and tried to guess the distance to the tree line. It wasn’t far. As long as the guards didn’t see them right away, they would make it.

He tapped Livadios’ shoulder and climbed over the site.

Being only belly deep, the ditch wouldn’t prevent an attack on its own but together with the wall it would stop any momentum a force storming in from the tree line had. A defender armed with a spear would be worth two or three attackers.

Almost there, Kion thought as they crawled toward the dark wall of the forest, less than thirty paces away. The corners of his lips started to perk up as he realized how close they were to safety. How long had he been in the camp? It felt like hours.

The nervous pressure he’d carried in his chest the whole time finally loosening he almost missed the distant sound behind him. Something in the back of his mind recognized the twang-noise and his body reacted without thinking. He rolled to the side, feeling the draft of the passing arrow above his head.

“Run,” he hissed, jumping to his feet. He fell into a sprint and immediately began to zigzag to make himself a harder target. The Assanaten archers had a formidable reputation and their powerful war bows would easily overcome the distance between wall and tree line.

More arrows flew by accompanied by shouting. Something hit Kion in the shoulder almost knocking him over. He caught himself just in time and immediately changed directions again.

And then he was past the tree line. The night immediately became darker, the treetops obscuring what little light the stars provided.

Kion didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. Still feeling the spot on his shoulder where the arrow had hit the armor, his only thought was to get away from the camp. Behind him, he could hear Livadios breathing. The arrows hadn’t caught him either.

Kion’s right leg hit something hard and unmoving. He tried to reach forward with his arms to brace his fall, but the spear caught on something, and he landed on his face.

The first thing Kion felt wasn’t pain, but panic. If he’d broken or just sprained a leg, he was dead. The Assanaten would surely send search parties after them right this moment.

“Are you ok?” Livadios asked, trying to catch his breath.

Carefully moving his feet and then leg, Kion tested for injuries. His right chin and his left kneecap hurt, and so did his face. Just bumps and bruises, he thought, relieved. He had worse. Slowly coming back to his feet, he tried to orientate himself. Behind them in the distance, lights danced between the trees. Otherwise, there was nothing to see, just shadows and darkness, and somewhere ahead he could hear the babbling of water.

Kion knew approximately where they were in relation to the lake and the village, or at least he believed he did. Once the sun came up, the mountains should allow him to orientate himself. Maybe they could circle around the camp at a safe distance and return to where Tatros and Ditsa waited?

Livadios stared at him, his expression hidden by the darkness. “Where now?”

Kion didn’t answer right away.

Would his companions still be there? Tatros would have noticed the fire and tumult and likely assumed that Kion was dead or caught unless Licen returned and told him otherwise. Even then the old man might still decide to get away from the camp in case the Assanaten decided to search the wider area around the lake. They knew after all that Kion had come across the water.

He shook his head. “Let’s go.” For now, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered right now was to bring more distance between them and their pursuers. Ignoring the pain, he started walking. With nothing else to orientate himself on, he followed the sound of running water somewhere ahead. The stream should originate in the north of the valley. Following it upstream would lead them away from the lake. Hopefully.

They walked for over an hour before they reached the shore of the small river. The ever-present bubbling had let him misjudge the distance by quite a bit. Or maybe we ran in circles for a while, Kion thought, sinking to his knees to wet his throat and neck.

Livadios immediately joined him with a sigh.

Despite the time of year, the stream ran deep and fast. Dipping his spear in until the butt hit the bottom, Kion could feel the strength of the current. With the freezing cold sucking the warmth from his body, wading to the other side would be exhausting.

His thirst satiated Kion decided that it was time to continue. The first rays of sunlight were making their way over the eastern mountains increasing the chances of Assanaten scouts finding their tracks with every hour.

“That’s long enough,” he said. “Let’s move on.” As he came back to his feet his stomach protested with a growl. How long had it been since his last meal?

“Horto’s beard, if you make a noise like that, even the Assanaten trackers are going to find you?”

Kion whirled around, raising his spear in one fluent motion. “…Licen.”