Kion
“What’re you doing, Sabil?” Spit shouted.
Kion tugged his chin to the chest and prepared for the landing. It turned out to be painful. Thick tree roots had pushed through the forest floor and Kion gasped when he made contact with the ground. He gritted his teeth against the pain.
“We said we would talk to him first,” Spit said. “What’re you doing?”
“Hold him,” Sabil shouted. “And call me leader!”
Hesitant hands took hold of Kion’s arms when he tried to sit up. He had bruised or broken his ribs on the right side. But he barely cared about the pain compared with the anger he felt at himself. How could he have fallen into a trap like this? Tricked by Sabil of all people.
The troop leader slid and stumbled down into the pit, almost landing on his butt. Reaching the bottom, he looked around suspiciously. Most of the men didn’t dare to meet his eyes.
“Sabil, what’s the meaning of this?” Kion asked. He pretended to take a step forward. The men held him back.
Good, he thought, feeling their hold on him. Having been laborers all their lives, they weren’t weak. But they weren’t trained either.
Spit hastily followed his leader, who looked like he was about to strike Kion.
Kion had already decided that he couldn’t let that happen. There was a mountain range he would have to cross fairly soon. He couldn’t afford to get injured in the hope of keeping his lies alive.
“Wait!” Spit held on to Sabil’s arm.
The bigger man ripped it free and stared daggers at the bony man. Kion could see his jaw working but he didn’t strike out.
Raising his hands, Spit took a respectful step back. “Duba is one of us. We decided together that we would talk first.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Sabil gestured angrily in Kion’s direction. “He’s clearly a spy. Probably sent by Saggab.”
“You don’t know that,” another man said hesitantly. The men were clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation.
Sabil's head snapped around to the speaker.
“He’s right,” Spit said, drawing the troop leader’s attention back to himself.
Sabil took a deep breath. “The Assanaten will reward us with gold for catching a spy.”
By the mention of a reward, some of the men exchanged glances. Gold was hard to argue with.
“Yeah, maybe,” Spit said. “But I haven’t seen any yet. No Helcenaean gold, no Assanaten silver. I’ve eaten and slept somewhat better than I expected from the army, that’s all. And some of that is because of Duba’s advice.”
“Mind telling me what’s going on here?” Kion asked.
Spit turned to him, his expression hardening. “You remember I talked to the new arrivals today? To learn what’s going on outside the camp. Well, I heard a rumor. Apparently, there was a spy sighted in the mountains some while ago back. The Assanaten sent out men to catch him, but apparently, none of them came back.”
“Did they send more men to look after the first group?” Kion asked.
“No idea,” Spit said. “But that’s not important. See, according to what the rumor says, that was just when we passed the mountains. When we ran into you.” He came a bit closer, carefully observing Kion’s face. “Duba, you said you had fallen behind your group. But we never met anybody that knew you.”
“And you’re from Saggab!” Sabil stepped from one foot to the other.
“We didn’t run into my first group yet,” Kion said.
Spit nodded. “Maybe but…”
“You know what”, Kion said, interrupting the man, “forget it.” A light kick to the hollow of the knee and a quick pull and push and his arms were free. The man who had been holding his left arm stumbled forward into Spit. The other landed on his butt, his surprised face showing that he had no idea how he had gotten there.
“Don’t!” Kion said, straitening himself as if facing the whole group. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
The shocked men stared at him, frozen in place.
“Take your hand off the knife, Abiba,” he said in a calm tone. “Baaliak, if that axe comes up, I will take it from you!”
The men exchanged nervous looks. Kion’s eyes hadn’t moved from Spit and Baalik stood behind him.
Kion stretched his back while calmly rubbing his side. It was purely for show. In his mind, his thoughts were racing. The depression they stood in was the worst ground for him. Seeing another man’s movement before it started didn’t help as much if there was no room to avoid it. If they just pile onto me all at once, I’m done.
“What’re you doing?” Sabil pointed at him. “Get him. We must bind him!”
“…we didn’t bring any ropes,” Abiba said half-loud.
“I…” Spit looked worried from Kion back to Sabiel. Having advocated for a conversation before he probably feared that an escalation would bring bloodshed.
“Calm down, Sabil,” Kion said. “Let’s talk.”
Sabil pushed Spit to the side and rushed him. At that moment he was a frightening view. Big and tall, his body hair sticking to his skin from the sweat of a day’s labor. He fell on Kion with a roar.
Kion didn’t wait for the larger man to lay hands on him. His right arm shot under his opponent’s right armpit, taking hold of the triceps. While stepping slightly out of the way, he drags the arm across. When Sabil stumbled past him, he wrapped his arms around him, locking his hands at the hip. Another quick shuffle brought him behind the big man.
Reflexively, Sabil’s tried to open Kion’s hands at his hips while straitening himself against the shorter man’s huge frame. Kion reacted to the backward momentum with a quick pull on the hips combined with a kick against Sabil’s heel. The kick was just strong enough to stop Sabil from stepping backward to catch his fall.
Sabil dropped on his butt.
The whole sequence of moves had only taken a couple of heartbeats, leaving the men staring opened-mouthed at the troop leader sitting in their midst. None seemed to understand what had just happened. The least Sabil himself.
“What…” That was all he croaked out before Kion’s arm wrapped around his neck in a mercilessly tied strangle. Sabil’s hands tried to dig between his throat and the arm, but there was no space. He tried to push off with his legs, but a quick jerk sat him down again.
“Stay where you are!” Kion said, in the tone he used with subordinate warriors. “Sabil will go to sleep in a moment. Then we will have a talk. Baalik, drop that axe, or your head will join Sabil on the floor!”
The hands, clawing at Kion’s arms, fell limp. After waiting for two more heartbeats, he slowly opened his strangle and let the larger man drop to the forest floor. He straightened himself and rotated his shoulder a couple of times without looking at anyone directly.
“…you killed Sabil,” Spit said. “Duba, you killed him.”
“No!” Kion turned making eye contact with each of the men. “He will wake up in a moment.” He gave Sabil a light kick. As if brought back to life by the impact, the unconscious man jerked, his eyes flying wide open.
“I could’ve snapped his neck”, Kion said, “but we’ve worked, eaten, and marched side by side for many days. I don’t have a quarrel with any of you men.”
At his feet, Sabil slowly scrambled backward, looking confused.
In truth, snapping somebody’ neck just with the strength of one’s arms wasn’t that easy. Especially not with a big fellow like Sabil. In battle, Kion would just have stomped on it, standing up. But here that would send the wrong message, he thought.
The men around him could still decide to pile on him. Or they could run, alarming the whole camp. Neither would end well for Kion. He still needed some goodwill and cooperation from his former comrades. But how to get it now? Those that weren’t frozen in place, seemed to be undecided between bolting and swinging their tools at him.
Kion had to act quick.
“Baalik, help Sabil,” Kion said. “Let him lean against the wall. He will be fine in a moment.”
“Yes!” Baalik hurried over to his troop leader leaving his axe behind.
That’s one, Kion thought.
“Did anybody bring something to eat?” Kion asked casually. “Abiba, give me your knife.”
When the man didn’t comply right away, Kion turned his head and stared at him straight in the eyes for two heartbeats before slowly turning the rest of his body in the same direction.
Abiba quickly handed him the copper blade, handle first, before Kion had completely squared up with him.
That’s two.
“Thank you, Abiba,” Kion said, pushing the knife carefully under his belt. “You can take mine as replacement when you get back.”
The men exchanged unsure looks, but as the announcement that they would return safely to their camp sank in, some of the stiffness in their postures disappeared.
“Nobody has food?” Kion asked.
Some men shook their heads.
“What now?” Spit asked, his concerned eyes moving back and forth between Kion’s face and the knife in his belt.
I’m glad you ask, Kion thought.
He eyed Spit for a moment before answering. “I’m going to leave now. The question is, what’re you guys going to do?”
Spit frowned, looking to his comrades for help. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you could go straight to the Assanaten,” he glanced down at Sabil for a moment before looking at each man in turn. “You tell them that you believe your friend Duba is an enemy who killed their brothers in the mountains. That you asked him about it and then let him go. I’m sure they will be understanding. After all, there were only half a dozen of you.” He shrugged. “And the Assanaten are of course very concerned about your safety and wellbeing.”
He paused and observed the impact his words had on the men without looking at anybody directly. In the streets of Saggab, he had learned that bad swindlers often stared at their target, trying to look righteous and to see if their lies were believed. A good merchant on the other hand spoke with matter of course, as his truth should be obvious to anybody.
“Or you finish up your work, grab your dinner and go to sleep.” He turned back to Spit. “Sometime tomorrow afternoon you ask people in passing if they have seen Duba. If the warriors come and ask, everybody answers honestly when you saw me last. For you here that will be cutting trees in the afternoon. For anybody else”, he waved in the direction where the rest of the mercenary troop was working, “it will be some other time.”
And we don’t even think about gold, Kion added in his mind.
For a long moment, nobody said anything. Only Sabil eyes burned with fury but when Kion glanced in his direction, he quickly looked away.
“And you?” Spit finally asked.
“I?” Kion turned his head westwards. The canopy above them hid the mountain range from view. “I will be fine. I stashed some supplies away. Should be enough to make it.” He let his head hang for another moment as if contemplating something. When he raised it again, he walked towards the slope the men had used to climb down into the pit.
With three long strides, he was out, the men parting to make way for him. Standing on the edge he turned back one more time. “Good luck to you.” Then he fell into a steady jog, westwards.
Kion wasn’t sure what the mercenaries would do. He could only hope he had spread enough doubt to at least make them hesitate long enough to buy him a head start.
For a while, he just ran as fast as his surrounding allowed. He orientated himself on the mountains ahead as best as he could through the greenery above him. When he thought he had brought enough distance between himself and the camp, he began to circle northwards.
Contrary to what he had told Spit, there was no secret stash of food and other supplies. He could have stolen from his comrades or the Assanaten, but the risk of bringing attention to the mercenaries and himself had been too high.
As an orphan in the streets of Saggab, he had stolen to survive, and the goddess’s Gift had helped him evade many angry pursuers. But Saggab was a huge and ancient city, its streets choked with people. It was easy to disappear in the endless bustle. Running through the unfamiliar greenery surrounding him, Kion felt strangely exposed and vulnerable.
When he reached a path leading west towards the mountains he slowed down. Kion wasn’t a scout but even for his untrained eyes, the traces were unmistakable. Footprints, broken branches, and trampled grass showed that entire groups had come this way.
He had reached the trail leading up to the mountain pass. To the right, invisible behind the trees, lay the camp. To the left, the most direct way to Riadnos.
For a long moment, Kion stared up toward the peaks rising above him. He had no food, no warm clothing. His only weapon was a copper knife, the blade barely as long as his hand.
Kion kneeled.
“Inashtar”, he murmured, “great goddess, your servant is lost in foreign lands. If you can hear my prayer here, please help me to find my way and to fulfill my oath and upon my return, I shall sacrifice to you in the great temple of Saggab.” He hesitated, feeling the true gravity of his situation. “And on any minor shrine on my path home.”
With that, he had done all he could do. He rose and crossed the trail, walking deep enough into the forest that he almost lost sight of it. Then he turned eastward.
He would move parallel to the trail for a while to not lose his way. When he came closer to the camp, he would move northeast, circling around it until he found the trail leading to the Helcenaean village. Licen had said that the Assanaten marked it.
If Inashtar was gracious, Logger’s Home would give him the answers the magi sought.
Kion
“What’re you doing, Sabil?” Spit shouted.
Kion tugged his chin to the chest and prepared for the landing. It turned out to be painful. Thick tree roots had pushed through the forest floor and Kion gasped when he made contact with the ground. He gritted his teeth against the pain.
“We said we would talk to him first,” Spit said. “What’re you doing?”
“Hold him,” Sabil shouted. “And call me leader!”
Hesitant hands took hold of Kion’s arms when he tried to sit up. He had bruised or broken his ribs on the right side. But he barely cared about the pain compared with the anger he felt at himself. How could he have fallen into a trap like this? Tricked by Sabil of all people.
The troop leader slid and stumbled down into the pit, almost landing on his butt. Reaching the bottom, he looked around suspiciously. Most of the men didn’t dare to meet his eyes.
“Sabil, what’s the meaning of this?” Kion asked. He pretended to take a step forward. The men held him back.
Good, he thought, feeling their hold on him. Having been laborers all their lives, they weren’t weak. But they weren’t trained either.
Spit hastily followed his leader, who looked like he was about to strike Kion.
Kion had already decided that he couldn’t let that happen. There was a mountain range he would have to cross fairly soon. He couldn’t afford to get injured in the hope of keeping his lies alive.
“Wait!” Spit held on to Sabil’s arm.
The bigger man ripped it free and stared daggers at the bony man. Kion could see his jaw working but he didn’t strike out.
Raising his hands, Spit took a respectful step back. “Duba is one of us. We decided together that we would talk first.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Sabil gestured angrily in Kion’s direction. “He’s clearly a spy. Probably sent by Saggab.”
“You don’t know that,” another man said hesitantly. The men were clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation.
Sabil's head snapped around to the speaker.
“He’s right,” Spit said, drawing the troop leader’s attention back to himself.
Sabil took a deep breath. “The Assanaten will reward us with gold for catching a spy.”
By the mention of a reward, some of the men exchanged glances. Gold was hard to argue with.
“Yeah, maybe,” Spit said. “But I haven’t seen any yet. No Helcenaean gold, no Assanaten silver. I’ve eaten and slept somewhat better than I expected from the army, that’s all. And some of that is because of Duba’s advice.”
“Mind telling me what’s going on here?” Kion asked.
Spit turned to him, his expression hardening. “You remember I talked to the new arrivals today? To learn what’s going on outside the camp. Well, I heard a rumor. Apparently, there was a spy sighted in the mountains some while ago back. The Assanaten sent out men to catch him, but apparently, none of them came back.”
“Did they send more men to look after the first group?” Kion asked.
“No idea,” Spit said. “But that’s not important. See, according to what the rumor says, that was just when we passed the mountains. When we ran into you.” He came a bit closer, carefully observing Kion’s face. “Duba, you said you had fallen behind your group. But we never met anybody that knew you.”
“And you’re from Saggab!” Sabil stepped from one foot to the other.
“We didn’t run into my first group yet,” Kion said.
Spit nodded. “Maybe but…”
“You know what”, Kion said, interrupting the man, “forget it.” A light kick to the hollow of the knee and a quick pull and push and his arms were free. The man who had been holding his left arm stumbled forward into Spit. The other landed on his butt, his surprised face showing that he had no idea how he had gotten there.
“Don’t!” Kion said, straitening himself as if facing the whole group. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
The shocked men stared at him, frozen in place.
“Take your hand off the knife, Abiba,” he said in a calm tone. “Baaliak, if that axe comes up, I will take it from you!”
The men exchanged nervous looks. Kion’s eyes hadn’t moved from Spit and Baalik stood behind him.
Kion stretched his back while calmly rubbing his side. It was purely for show. In his mind, his thoughts were racing. The depression they stood in was the worst ground for him. Seeing another man’s movement before it started didn’t help as much if there was no room to avoid it. If they just pile onto me all at once, I’m done.
“What’re you doing?” Sabil pointed at him. “Get him. We must bind him!”
“…we didn’t bring any ropes,” Abiba said half-loud.
“I…” Spit looked worried from Kion back to Sabiel. Having advocated for a conversation before he probably feared that an escalation would bring bloodshed.
“Calm down, Sabil,” Kion said. “Let’s talk.”
Sabil pushed Spit to the side and rushed him. At that moment he was a frightening view. Big and tall, his body hair sticking to his skin from the sweat of a day’s labor. He fell on Kion with a roar.
Kion didn’t wait for the larger man to lay hands on him. His right arm shot under his opponent’s right armpit, taking hold of the triceps. While stepping slightly out of the way, he drags the arm across. When Sabil stumbled past him, he wrapped his arms around him, locking his hands at the hip. Another quick shuffle brought him behind the big man.
Reflexively, Sabil’s tried to open Kion’s hands at his hips while straitening himself against the shorter man’s huge frame. Kion reacted to the backward momentum with a quick pull on the hips combined with a kick against Sabil’s heel. The kick was just strong enough to stop Sabil from stepping backward to catch his fall.
Sabil dropped on his butt.
The whole sequence of moves had only taken a couple of heartbeats, leaving the men staring opened-mouthed at the troop leader sitting in their midst. None seemed to understand what had just happened. The least Sabil himself.
“What…” That was all he croaked out before Kion’s arm wrapped around his neck in a mercilessly tied strangle. Sabil’s hands tried to dig between his throat and the arm, but there was no space. He tried to push off with his legs, but a quick jerk sat him down again.
“Stay where you are!” Kion said, in the tone he used with subordinate warriors. “Sabil will go to sleep in a moment. Then we will have a talk. Baalik, drop that axe, or your head will join Sabil on the floor!”
The hands, clawing at Kion’s arms, fell limp. After waiting for two more heartbeats, he slowly opened his strangle and let the larger man drop to the forest floor. He straightened himself and rotated his shoulder a couple of times without looking at anyone directly.
“…you killed Sabil,” Spit said. “Duba, you killed him.”
“No!” Kion turned making eye contact with each of the men. “He will wake up in a moment.” He gave Sabil a light kick. As if brought back to life by the impact, the unconscious man jerked, his eyes flying wide open.
“I could’ve snapped his neck”, Kion said, “but we’ve worked, eaten, and marched side by side for many days. I don’t have a quarrel with any of you men.”
At his feet, Sabil slowly scrambled backward, looking confused.
In truth, snapping somebody’ neck just with the strength of one’s arms wasn’t that easy. Especially not with a big fellow like Sabil. In battle, Kion would just have stomped on it, standing up. But here that would send the wrong message, he thought.
The men around him could still decide to pile on him. Or they could run, alarming the whole camp. Neither would end well for Kion. He still needed some goodwill and cooperation from his former comrades. But how to get it now? Those that weren’t frozen in place, seemed to be undecided between bolting and swinging their tools at him.
Kion had to act quick.
“Baalik, help Sabil,” Kion said. “Let him lean against the wall. He will be fine in a moment.”
“Yes!” Baalik hurried over to his troop leader leaving his axe behind.
That’s one, Kion thought.
“Did anybody bring something to eat?” Kion asked casually. “Abiba, give me your knife.”
When the man didn’t comply right away, Kion turned his head and stared at him straight in the eyes for two heartbeats before slowly turning the rest of his body in the same direction.
Abiba quickly handed him the copper blade, handle first, before Kion had completely squared up with him.
That’s two.
“Thank you, Abiba,” Kion said, pushing the knife carefully under his belt. “You can take mine as replacement when you get back.”
The men exchanged unsure looks, but as the announcement that they would return safely to their camp sank in, some of the stiffness in their postures disappeared.
“Nobody has food?” Kion asked.
Some men shook their heads.
“What now?” Spit asked, his concerned eyes moving back and forth between Kion’s face and the knife in his belt.
I’m glad you ask, Kion thought.
He eyed Spit for a moment before answering. “I’m going to leave now. The question is, what’re you guys going to do?”
Spit frowned, looking to his comrades for help. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you could go straight to the Assanaten,” he glanced down at Sabil for a moment before looking at each man in turn. “You tell them that you believe your friend Duba is an enemy who killed their brothers in the mountains. That you asked him about it and then let him go. I’m sure they will be understanding. After all, there were only half a dozen of you.” He shrugged. “And the Assanaten are of course very concerned about your safety and wellbeing.”
He paused and observed the impact his words had on the men without looking at anybody directly. In the streets of Saggab, he had learned that bad swindlers often stared at their target, trying to look righteous and to see if their lies were believed. A good merchant on the other hand spoke with matter of course, as his truth should be obvious to anybody.
“Or you finish up your work, grab your dinner and go to sleep.” He turned back to Spit. “Sometime tomorrow afternoon you ask people in passing if they have seen Duba. If the warriors come and ask, everybody answers honestly when you saw me last. For you here that will be cutting trees in the afternoon. For anybody else”, he waved in the direction where the rest of the mercenary troop was working, “it will be some other time.”
And we don’t even think about gold, Kion added in his mind.
For a long moment, nobody said anything. Only Sabil eyes burned with fury but when Kion glanced in his direction, he quickly looked away.
“And you?” Spit finally asked.
“I?” Kion turned his head westwards. The canopy above them hid the mountain range from view. “I will be fine. I stashed some supplies away. Should be enough to make it.” He let his head hang for another moment as if contemplating something. When he raised it again, he walked towards the slope the men had used to climb down into the pit.
With three long strides, he was out, the men parting to make way for him. Standing on the edge he turned back one more time. “Good luck to you.” Then he fell into a steady jog, westwards.
Kion wasn’t sure what the mercenaries would do. He could only hope he had spread enough doubt to at least make them hesitate long enough to buy him a head start.
For a while, he just ran as fast as his surrounding allowed. He orientated himself on the mountains ahead as best as he could through the greenery above him. When he thought he had brought enough distance between himself and the camp, he began to circle northwards.
Contrary to what he had told Spit, there was no secret stash of food and other supplies. He could have stolen from his comrades or the Assanaten, but the risk of bringing attention to the mercenaries and himself had been too high.
As an orphan in the streets of Saggab, he had stolen to survive, and the goddess’s Gift had helped him evade many angry pursuers. But Saggab was a huge and ancient city, its streets choked with people. It was easy to disappear in the endless bustle. Running through the unfamiliar greenery surrounding him, Kion felt strangely exposed and vulnerable.
When he reached a path leading west towards the mountains he slowed down. Kion wasn’t a scout but even for his untrained eyes, the traces were unmistakable. Footprints, broken branches, and trampled grass showed that entire groups had come this way.
He had reached the trail leading up to the mountain pass. To the right, invisible behind the trees, lay the camp. To the left, the most direct way to Riadnos.
For a long moment, Kion stared up toward the peaks rising above him. He had no food, no warm clothing. His only weapon was a copper knife, the blade barely as long as his hand.
Kion kneeled.
“Inashtar”, he murmured, “great goddess, your servant is lost in foreign lands. If you can hear my prayer here, please help me to find my way and to fulfill my oath and upon my return, I shall sacrifice to you in the great temple of Saggab.” He hesitated, feeling the true gravity of his situation. “And on any minor shrine on my path home.”
With that, he had done all he could do. He rose and crossed the trail, walking deep enough into the forest that he almost lost sight of it. Then he turned eastward.
He would move parallel to the trail for a while to not lose his way. When he came closer to the camp, he would move northeast, circling around it until he found the trail leading to the Helcenaean village. Licen had said that the Assanaten marked it.
If Inashtar was gracious, Logger’s Home would give him the answers the magi sought.
