Mark
Hermistos smelled nice.
On the river, they hadn’t had the opportunity to wash their cloth or use scented oils. After they had been housed in the lower palace Mark had asked that the young man be washed regularly. Apparently, the servants had used the same selections of oils he had put together for himself.
Mark adjusted the young man’s position on his shoulder before he pushed the door to the entrance hall open. Luckily, in his sickly state, the young Helcenaean weighed hardly any more than Atissa.
The servants fed Hermistos broth but it wasn’t enough to keep a man’s weight up over time. Mark had also asked for Hermistos to be moved every couple of hours. He wasn’t sure if young people even got bedsores but he wasn’t willing to risk it.
The healer had approved all the measures Mark had suggested. He couldn’t tell if it was because his ideas were actually good or if the man just felt intimidated as he’d caught him looking at Mark in awe. In the end, he had added some medicines, prayers, and wards so he could look at least somewhat useful.
When the door had opened just enough, Mark stepped sideways through the gap. He took care not to hit Hermistos’ head against the frame but in the process almost fell over an obstacle on the ground. Catching himself in the last moment, Mark turned to see what had tripped him.
It was a body.
One of three, all belonging to guards that protected their residence.
Mark looked around.
Outside the light of the stars allowed him to see a little better, even if it was nothing compared with how a modern city would be lit up. He added the invention of electricity to his mental list. Provided, I can’t find a way home, he thought.
Satisfied that nobody was around, he hurried up the road to the upper palace.
He hadn’t moved more than three hundred feet when he was hailed.
“Who goes there?”
Mark turned towards the voice. Two guards carrying spears rushed out of a two-story building.
“Master Mar’Doug!” one of the men said, recognizing him. Their posture straightened up immediately.
Good, Mark thought grimly.
“What are you doing here?” the second man asked and was immediately elbowed by his colleague.
“He means to say, can we help you?”
“There are at least four Assanaten in my residence,” Mark said slowly, to give the men time to process the information. “The guards in front were killed. I took Hermistos here and snuck out while my companion Atissa tried to help the people in the servant’s wing.”
The two men gapped at him.
“Ah…” the first guard stuttered.
“That is impossible,” the second said.
Mark stepped closer, getting right into the man’s face. “Listen to me. I do not know how they got in. But we have at least four Assanaten in that building.” The man flinched away half a step. Mark looked toward the other one, an older man with an ugly scar decorating his face. “They haven’t noticed me sneaking out. We need to send in help before they realize that we’re aware of their intrusion. Do you understand?”
The man looked at him blankly for just a moment before reality dawned on him and his expression turned cold.
“Go, alarm the upper palace,” he said to his colleague. “Get us more men.”
“What will you do?” the younger guard asked, clearly still unsure.
“Warn the gate”, he knocked his fist against the door they had emerged from, “and start fighting back.”
A third guard opened the door with a confused look on his face.
“One more thing,” Mark said while the younger guard ran off. “One of the Assanaten is a magi.”
The older guard’s eyes widened while the third stared back and forth between them. “What’s…”
“Shut up!” the older guard said. “Get everybody out here. Spears, shields, helmets.” He pushed the man back through the door. “Don’t think! Just do!”
That switched something in the other man’s head. From one second to the next his face became serious. He turned and disappeared inside the building.
The scared guard turned to face Mark again. “I have seven men. Eight with me but I want to send one to check on the lower gate. If you were not here, that would not nearly be enough to challenge a magi.”
Mark nodded politely until his brain processed the last sentence. He had only just snuck out of that death trap and now he was supposed to run back in?
He looked back towards the residence. Nothing to see. Atissa still hadn’t shown up.
“You can give me that man,” another guard said to Mark, holding out his hands to receive Hermistos. “We have cots inside.”
Behind him a line of men carrying round shields, spears, and axes formed. Most still rubbed sleep from their eyes. One man was sent down the street in the direction of the lower gate.
“Let’s go,” the scared leader said. “And if you run into the magi without the master Mar’Doug around, shield up and rush him. Don’t give him time to do his magic. Right, master?”
Sure, great plan, Mark thought. Charge the flamethrower.
But he couldn’t say that out loud. His mind ran through the movie lines he had suffered through during flights.
“You cannot spit fire if your head is missing,” he said, grateful that his expression was hard to see in the dark of the night.
A nervous chuckle ran through the small group. The leader gave him an approving nod. “Right so!”
As the men formed up around him and started a fast trot, Mark found himself carried with them. Looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t see a way to get out of this situation. He was about to run into a building that would surely catch fire any moment now.
Those men that hadn’t quite woken up yet finally did so when they reached the residence’s entrance. Stepping over the corpses of men they knew made the danger suddenly real.
The leader pushed two men with bigger shields in front and they went in. The group almost got halfway through the entrance hall when a thundering sound shattered the silence of the night. The men looked at each other with wide eyes.
“Go!” the leader shouted.
And they moved.
Mark was caught in the middle of the group, surging forward to find somebody they could hack and stab. As they crossed into the corridor, he noticed that he was the only one without a weapon or armor.
Then the screams started up ahead. They came from the direction Atissa had gone.
Mark tapped the leader’s shoulder and pointed forward. “Here the Assanaten split. One group went left, the other straight ahead to either the servant’s quarters or mistress Bel’Sara’s.”
“Which way did the magi go?” the leader asked.
Mark was asking himself the same question. But this time he was prepared. “I don’t know but I have to take the straight path. Atissa and mistress Bel’Sara are in that direction.” And more importantly, the kitchen exit, Mark thought. He was not going deeper into the trap than he had to.
The old man nodded. “I understand. I will take two men and go left. We cannot have the other group show up behind our backs. May the gods be with you!”
“And with you,” Mark said.
The group of three split off and left Mark with four men looking expectantly at him. There seemed to be no second in command.
“Shields first,” Mark said, gesturing in a way he hoped looked militaristic. The remaining guards seemed to be happy with it and got into formation. Not having a shield, Mark naturally positioned himself in the very back.
Smoke started to fill the corridor up front. A naked man leading a young girl broke through the forming wall of haze. Blinded by soot and panic, the coughing couple almost ran into the shield wall.
One of the guards in the front rank lowered his spear but his neighbor pushed him with his shoulder before stepping aside and making an opening. “They are Helcenaean. Let them through!”
Mark stopped the passing girl. “You are Siria, right? Have you seen Atissa?”
Siria just looked up at him in confusion, her eyes red from the smoke. “I don’t…” She coughed.
“It’s fine.,” Mark said, giving her a light push. “Go!”
“What now, master?” one of the men in the front rank asked. “We can’t even see anything.”
Before Mark could respond another clap of thunder roared through the building. He felt the vibration through his feet and had to brace himself against the strong gust of wind that followed.
The air current raced through the corridor, pushing smoke and sparks with it. Mark cowered behind one of the shield bearers, keeping his mouth and eyes firmly shut.
“Aaaah!”
The angry scream prompted Mark to glance up again.
The wind had lowered in intensity and the men around him clambered back to their feet.
At the now smoke-free intersection ahead another very angry man struggled back to his feet, pushing himself up with his staff.
Fuck!
“Get him,” he shouted, giving the guard right in front of him a push. The man stumbled a step and then fell into a sprint, shield up, spear pointed forward.
Mark turned, but the rest of his group was already moving, raising a battle cry as they stormed forward.
Mark ran too but chose to dash sideways, making for the entrance of the room Atissa and he had hidden in earlier.
He crossed the doorway just as the light of blazing fire filled the corridor. Screams followed.
Mark pressed himself against the wall. The cries died down quickly, but the flickering of light remained. The building must have caught fire.
The walls were worked limestone but there was also a lot of lumber used in the construction. Mark gave the wooden ceiling a nervous glance.
What the hell am I doing here? This was madness. He had a very clear priority list. Stay safe, stay healthy and clean, stay comfortable, and find a way home. Nothing he was doing right now was in line with that.
“Hand over the girl, demon worshipper!” a voice boomed. “I will not be merciful again.”
Was that mistress Bel’Sara? It sounded like her after her voice had been modulated and amplified by a professional sound engineer.
“Faithless wench!” a similarly modulated voice thundered back. “You dare challenge a servant of the Assan?”
The flames outside seemed to flare for a moment. It followed a loud howling and Mark could see the charred corpse of two men fly by the door like leaves in the wind. The airstream made parts of their bodies glow like embers.
Then the fighting seemed to be happening right in front of the door. Sparks blew inside, followed by another gust of wind so strong he could feel it under his tunic.
He creped as far away from the door as he could. By now, he was convinced that the whole residence would soon come down around him.
The noise outside died down in volume, moving further away. When Mark noticed it still took a while before he dared to leave his corner.
Carefully sticking his head outside, he glanced up and down the corridor. The fighting had moved in the direction of the entrance hall.
Mark nodded to himself. The kitchen exit it is, he thought, turning in that direction. Before he could take a single step, he saw that the corridor ahead was filling with thick smoke again. The light of flames licked along the ceiling.
Could he make it through there? He had no way of knowing, and he didn’t trust himself to find his way through the servant quarters blind. Unwilling to risk suffocation, he changed direction. There was still a third option.
He hurried down the corridor but instead of following the noise of the two magi slugging it out ahead, he turned right. This time he would jump out of the window.
As he ran, he thought of Atissa. He hadn’t seen her in the chaos.
He shook his head. There was nothing he could do for her right now. One half of the building was on fire while the other half was the stage for an epic fight scene in a movie he wouldn’t pay to watch. Atissa was certainly capable and would have an easier time slipping out than he would – if she was still alive.
The picture of a car crash flashed across his mind. But this time it was Atissa’s body laying mangled under the wreckage.
Mark bit his lip and pushed on.
He stepped through the entrance of the courtyard and looked around. If possible, he wanted to avoid running into the other group of guards.
There were several doorways, but he needed to get to the window in his room. Crossing the courtyard as quickly as possible while listening for movement. It wasn’t easy. The noise of the fighting and the burning building was becoming louder.
Three steps away from the door a figure stepped out. Mark stopped.
“Master Mar’Doug?” It was the guard leader.
Mark relaxed a little. Did I ask his name?
“Yes,” he said. “Have you found the enemy?”
“Two of them, as you said”, the leader waved towards the doorway, “we surprised them, but it was an ugly business in the dark. Desdemos got badly hurt.”
Mark nodded, only half listening. He used the time the man spent giving his report to structure his story.
“Master”, the guard asked, ”how is the fighting going over there? We can hear the noises all the way over here.”
“The building is on fire and the corridors are filling with smoke. Mistress Bel’Sara is fighting the magi somewhere near the main entrance.”
The older man looked past Mark. Glancing up, they could now see the fierce glow of the fire against the dark sky. When his eyes returned to Mark, the question on his face was easy to guess.
“The Assanaten magi is strong. Mistress Bel’Sara is pushing him back, but…well, you can see the destruction.” Mark waved towards the building behind him without turning. “I need my staff. I had to leave it behind when I carried Hermistos to safety.”
The old warrior's face brightened in understanding. A man coming for his weapon before jumping into the fray was something he understood.
“I will ready the men,” he said sharply. “We will have your back.”
I would rather have you in front, Mark thought.
“Good,” Mark said, stepping past the man. “I came also to find you. With the fire spreading, you can’t go back through the building. We will climb out the window and go around.”
“Yes, master!”
Walking through the dark corridor towards his room, Mark sighed. At least he could pick up his jacket and cigarettes.
Mark
Hermistos smelled nice.
On the river, they hadn’t had the opportunity to wash their cloth or use scented oils. After they had been housed in the lower palace Mark had asked that the young man be washed regularly. Apparently, the servants had used the same selections of oils he had put together for himself.
Mark adjusted the young man’s position on his shoulder before he pushed the door to the entrance hall open. Luckily, in his sickly state, the young Helcenaean weighed hardly any more than Atissa.
The servants fed Hermistos broth but it wasn’t enough to keep a man’s weight up over time. Mark had also asked for Hermistos to be moved every couple of hours. He wasn’t sure if young people even got bedsores but he wasn’t willing to risk it.
The healer had approved all the measures Mark had suggested. He couldn’t tell if it was because his ideas were actually good or if the man just felt intimidated as he’d caught him looking at Mark in awe. In the end, he had added some medicines, prayers, and wards so he could look at least somewhat useful.
When the door had opened just enough, Mark stepped sideways through the gap. He took care not to hit Hermistos’ head against the frame but in the process almost fell over an obstacle on the ground. Catching himself in the last moment, Mark turned to see what had tripped him.
It was a body.
One of three, all belonging to guards that protected their residence.
Mark looked around.
Outside the light of the stars allowed him to see a little better, even if it was nothing compared with how a modern city would be lit up. He added the invention of electricity to his mental list. Provided, I can’t find a way home, he thought.
Satisfied that nobody was around, he hurried up the road to the upper palace.
He hadn’t moved more than three hundred feet when he was hailed.
“Who goes there?”
Mark turned towards the voice. Two guards carrying spears rushed out of a two-story building.
“Master Mar’Doug!” one of the men said, recognizing him. Their posture straightened up immediately.
Good, Mark thought grimly.
“What are you doing here?” the second man asked and was immediately elbowed by his colleague.
“He means to say, can we help you?”
“There are at least four Assanaten in my residence,” Mark said slowly, to give the men time to process the information. “The guards in front were killed. I took Hermistos here and snuck out while my companion Atissa tried to help the people in the servant’s wing.”
The two men gapped at him.
“Ah…” the first guard stuttered.
“That is impossible,” the second said.
Mark stepped closer, getting right into the man’s face. “Listen to me. I do not know how they got in. But we have at least four Assanaten in that building.” The man flinched away half a step. Mark looked toward the other one, an older man with an ugly scar decorating his face. “They haven’t noticed me sneaking out. We need to send in help before they realize that we’re aware of their intrusion. Do you understand?”
The man looked at him blankly for just a moment before reality dawned on him and his expression turned cold.
“Go, alarm the upper palace,” he said to his colleague. “Get us more men.”
“What will you do?” the younger guard asked, clearly still unsure.
“Warn the gate”, he knocked his fist against the door they had emerged from, “and start fighting back.”
A third guard opened the door with a confused look on his face.
“One more thing,” Mark said while the younger guard ran off. “One of the Assanaten is a magi.”
The older guard’s eyes widened while the third stared back and forth between them. “What’s…”
“Shut up!” the older guard said. “Get everybody out here. Spears, shields, helmets.” He pushed the man back through the door. “Don’t think! Just do!”
That switched something in the other man’s head. From one second to the next his face became serious. He turned and disappeared inside the building.
The scared guard turned to face Mark again. “I have seven men. Eight with me but I want to send one to check on the lower gate. If you were not here, that would not nearly be enough to challenge a magi.”
Mark nodded politely until his brain processed the last sentence. He had only just snuck out of that death trap and now he was supposed to run back in?
He looked back towards the residence. Nothing to see. Atissa still hadn’t shown up.
“You can give me that man,” another guard said to Mark, holding out his hands to receive Hermistos. “We have cots inside.”
Behind him a line of men carrying round shields, spears, and axes formed. Most still rubbed sleep from their eyes. One man was sent down the street in the direction of the lower gate.
“Let’s go,” the scared leader said. “And if you run into the magi without the master Mar’Doug around, shield up and rush him. Don’t give him time to do his magic. Right, master?”
Sure, great plan, Mark thought. Charge the flamethrower.
But he couldn’t say that out loud. His mind ran through the movie lines he had suffered through during flights.
“You cannot spit fire if your head is missing,” he said, grateful that his expression was hard to see in the dark of the night.
A nervous chuckle ran through the small group. The leader gave him an approving nod. “Right so!”
As the men formed up around him and started a fast trot, Mark found himself carried with them. Looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t see a way to get out of this situation. He was about to run into a building that would surely catch fire any moment now.
Those men that hadn’t quite woken up yet finally did so when they reached the residence’s entrance. Stepping over the corpses of men they knew made the danger suddenly real.
The leader pushed two men with bigger shields in front and they went in. The group almost got halfway through the entrance hall when a thundering sound shattered the silence of the night. The men looked at each other with wide eyes.
“Go!” the leader shouted.
And they moved.
Mark was caught in the middle of the group, surging forward to find somebody they could hack and stab. As they crossed into the corridor, he noticed that he was the only one without a weapon or armor.
Then the screams started up ahead. They came from the direction Atissa had gone.
Mark tapped the leader’s shoulder and pointed forward. “Here the Assanaten split. One group went left, the other straight ahead to either the servant’s quarters or mistress Bel’Sara’s.”
“Which way did the magi go?” the leader asked.
Mark was asking himself the same question. But this time he was prepared. “I don’t know but I have to take the straight path. Atissa and mistress Bel’Sara are in that direction.” And more importantly, the kitchen exit, Mark thought. He was not going deeper into the trap than he had to.
The old man nodded. “I understand. I will take two men and go left. We cannot have the other group show up behind our backs. May the gods be with you!”
“And with you,” Mark said.
The group of three split off and left Mark with four men looking expectantly at him. There seemed to be no second in command.
“Shields first,” Mark said, gesturing in a way he hoped looked militaristic. The remaining guards seemed to be happy with it and got into formation. Not having a shield, Mark naturally positioned himself in the very back.
Smoke started to fill the corridor up front. A naked man leading a young girl broke through the forming wall of haze. Blinded by soot and panic, the coughing couple almost ran into the shield wall.
One of the guards in the front rank lowered his spear but his neighbor pushed him with his shoulder before stepping aside and making an opening. “They are Helcenaean. Let them through!”
Mark stopped the passing girl. “You are Siria, right? Have you seen Atissa?”
Siria just looked up at him in confusion, her eyes red from the smoke. “I don’t…” She coughed.
“It’s fine.,” Mark said, giving her a light push. “Go!”
“What now, master?” one of the men in the front rank asked. “We can’t even see anything.”
Before Mark could respond another clap of thunder roared through the building. He felt the vibration through his feet and had to brace himself against the strong gust of wind that followed.
The air current raced through the corridor, pushing smoke and sparks with it. Mark cowered behind one of the shield bearers, keeping his mouth and eyes firmly shut.
“Aaaah!”
The angry scream prompted Mark to glance up again.
The wind had lowered in intensity and the men around him clambered back to their feet.
At the now smoke-free intersection ahead another very angry man struggled back to his feet, pushing himself up with his staff.
Fuck!
“Get him,” he shouted, giving the guard right in front of him a push. The man stumbled a step and then fell into a sprint, shield up, spear pointed forward.
Mark turned, but the rest of his group was already moving, raising a battle cry as they stormed forward.
Mark ran too but chose to dash sideways, making for the entrance of the room Atissa and he had hidden in earlier.
He crossed the doorway just as the light of blazing fire filled the corridor. Screams followed.
Mark pressed himself against the wall. The cries died down quickly, but the flickering of light remained. The building must have caught fire.
The walls were worked limestone but there was also a lot of lumber used in the construction. Mark gave the wooden ceiling a nervous glance.
What the hell am I doing here? This was madness. He had a very clear priority list. Stay safe, stay healthy and clean, stay comfortable, and find a way home. Nothing he was doing right now was in line with that.
“Hand over the girl, demon worshipper!” a voice boomed. “I will not be merciful again.”
Was that mistress Bel’Sara? It sounded like her after her voice had been modulated and amplified by a professional sound engineer.
“Faithless wench!” a similarly modulated voice thundered back. “You dare challenge a servant of the Assan?”
The flames outside seemed to flare for a moment. It followed a loud howling and Mark could see the charred corpse of two men fly by the door like leaves in the wind. The airstream made parts of their bodies glow like embers.
Then the fighting seemed to be happening right in front of the door. Sparks blew inside, followed by another gust of wind so strong he could feel it under his tunic.
He creped as far away from the door as he could. By now, he was convinced that the whole residence would soon come down around him.
The noise outside died down in volume, moving further away. When Mark noticed it still took a while before he dared to leave his corner.
Carefully sticking his head outside, he glanced up and down the corridor. The fighting had moved in the direction of the entrance hall.
Mark nodded to himself. The kitchen exit it is, he thought, turning in that direction. Before he could take a single step, he saw that the corridor ahead was filling with thick smoke again. The light of flames licked along the ceiling.
Could he make it through there? He had no way of knowing, and he didn’t trust himself to find his way through the servant quarters blind. Unwilling to risk suffocation, he changed direction. There was still a third option.
He hurried down the corridor but instead of following the noise of the two magi slugging it out ahead, he turned right. This time he would jump out of the window.
As he ran, he thought of Atissa. He hadn’t seen her in the chaos.
He shook his head. There was nothing he could do for her right now. One half of the building was on fire while the other half was the stage for an epic fight scene in a movie he wouldn’t pay to watch. Atissa was certainly capable and would have an easier time slipping out than he would – if she was still alive.
The picture of a car crash flashed across his mind. But this time it was Atissa’s body laying mangled under the wreckage.
Mark bit his lip and pushed on.
He stepped through the entrance of the courtyard and looked around. If possible, he wanted to avoid running into the other group of guards.
There were several doorways, but he needed to get to the window in his room. Crossing the courtyard as quickly as possible while listening for movement. It wasn’t easy. The noise of the fighting and the burning building was becoming louder.
Three steps away from the door a figure stepped out. Mark stopped.
“Master Mar’Doug?” It was the guard leader.
Mark relaxed a little. Did I ask his name?
“Yes,” he said. “Have you found the enemy?”
“Two of them, as you said”, the leader waved towards the doorway, “we surprised them, but it was an ugly business in the dark. Desdemos got badly hurt.”
Mark nodded, only half listening. He used the time the man spent giving his report to structure his story.
“Master”, the guard asked, ”how is the fighting going over there? We can hear the noises all the way over here.”
“The building is on fire and the corridors are filling with smoke. Mistress Bel’Sara is fighting the magi somewhere near the main entrance.”
The older man looked past Mark. Glancing up, they could now see the fierce glow of the fire against the dark sky. When his eyes returned to Mark, the question on his face was easy to guess.
“The Assanaten magi is strong. Mistress Bel’Sara is pushing him back, but…well, you can see the destruction.” Mark waved towards the building behind him without turning. “I need my staff. I had to leave it behind when I carried Hermistos to safety.”
The old warrior's face brightened in understanding. A man coming for his weapon before jumping into the fray was something he understood.
“I will ready the men,” he said sharply. “We will have your back.”
I would rather have you in front, Mark thought.
“Good,” Mark said, stepping past the man. “I came also to find you. With the fire spreading, you can’t go back through the building. We will climb out the window and go around.”
“Yes, master!”
Walking through the dark corridor towards his room, Mark sighed. At least he could pick up his jacket and cigarettes.
