Chapter 5
The barrel
The tall grass obstructed his vision, so Bastet did not notice the anthill that he was stepping on until tiny black dots swarmed his leg. He did not slap them off as he could not afford to make any sudden movements. He was crouched behind a cottage near the road, breathing shallowly. He slightly leaned, and barely revealing half an eye, he peeked around the corner. Not long after Kreil left the feast, a tall muscular woman approached him and led him through the meandering alleys to the part of town where most houses were collapsed and unsafe to sleep in. Bastet was not close enough to hear them speak, but he still slowed his breathing to the point that he was running out of breath. He had a hunch that if he let out any sound, he would be found out.
Kreil looked anxious. Their argument was getting heated, and with the volume of their voices increasing, Bastet could finally start making out some of what they were saying. Kreil startled him once he yelled – “You fried my brain?!” – But it looked like the woman ran out of patience. Instead of explaining with words, she placed her palm on his forehead, and the air around her trembled as she cast her magics. With a deep sigh Kreil lowered his head, and after a few moments of silence he spoke in a wistful voice – “It truly is… as you said.” – he dug his face in his palms – “I almost regret having to remember.”
-“We have to wait and see if he shows up. Just be more patient.”
-“My patience is different from yours, it’s my daughter we’re talking about!” – his face once again contorted in anger – “I’ve been patient! I have! But I don’t care about the harbinger anymore, just get Lilian out of here!”
The woman put her hands on his shoulders and whispered something that seemed to have calmed him down. Kreil nodded his head in agreement, but the nodding stopped once he no longer liked what he was hearing – “None of it bloody matters!” – He pushed her arms away while growling through his teeth – “You promised me! This is our last chance to escape!”
-“I know.” – the woman coldly replied – “That is precisely why I restored your memory, historian. Don’t lose hope, our plan can still work.”
-“Just forget about the damn plan and save her!” – Kreil wailed, but the woman quietly shook her head. He clasped his hands and to Bastet it looked like he was begging her, but the woman just turned around to walk away. Kreil clutched her elbow and shouted in a shaky voice – “Miara, please!” – but the muscular woman easily shook his grip off. He continued pleading while chasing after her.
The mud was still fresh since it rained yesterday, and the ground was slippery. Bastet thought that it would be hard to continue following them. Ever since that woman showed up, he did not dare move a muscle, and he was kind of relieved that they were getting farther away. He could only hear them once they raised their tone, but he was satisfied with how much he learned. It seemed that Kreil was really planning to escape, and he was not working alone. It sounded like the woman was the one responsible for his missing memories, or rather, have they already returned by now? From what he could gather, Kreil was trying to convince her to leave tonight, whereas she insisted on waiting for something first. And by the way he was pleading, it seemed like he would be unable to escape without her assistance.
Bastet felt a churning in his stomach. He could not simply approach Kreil and ask about his plans. Since Bastet was bound by Ariadne’s curse, there is no way they would be able to trust him. Hell, he’d be lucky if they didn’t kill him on the spot. The most he could do was trail them, and then escape the same way they did. But if doing so required using some magics or resisting Ariadne’s curse, he’d be completely stuck. Bastet leaned back and looked up into the night sky. It was such a long shot... But maybe he could trail them all the way until they reached the wall, and then request to join up with them? They wouldn’t be able to react rashly to his demands if they were in hiding and completely surrounded by enemies. He pressed his lips together and sighed. It was a bit better, but it was still such a gamble. Still, it was better to cast the dice and test his luck than keep it in his hand and ensure failure. He desperately needed someone to talk to, someone to convince that this was the right way to go. If he could do so, then maybe he would stop doubting himself so much. He was not used to being so alone, without anyone to rely on. He missed his dad. Lately, he found out that when he whispers, it sounded exactly like his dad’s whispering. Sometimes he would whisper just so he could hear his voice again.
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Bastet slapped his cheeks. It was imperative that he escaped before tomorrow, so he could not just idly wait. If he was to follow after Kreil’s group, he had to ensure that they do actually end up going first. He moved through the deserted streets, heading towards the eastern gate. Now that he thought of it, was the tall woman the one who destroyed the wall? The timing of it was awfully convenient, since it stopped Kreil from having to drink Ariadne’s blood. But as soon as he thought so, his body froze with the familiar feeling of Ariadne’s curse taking over. The Wesians were desperately looking for the intruder, so it would be in the best interest of Wesia to report her immediately. Bastet bit his tongue. He had no proof it was her. It could have been anyone. Besides, his own flask was also torn when he fell. It was just a possibility, not a certainty, he reassured himself. The tense muscles relaxed as Ariadne’s curse let go. He had to be more careful with his thoughts, he reminded himself. He made sure not to come too close to the eastern gate. Up until now, no one had specifically ordered him to stay in Stormbridge, but if they saw him approaching, they might order him to back away.
Bastet believed that most Wesians would be enjoying the feast, but it seemed that there were just as many of them guarding the wall. Perhaps they were wary of another attack, because they definitely were not lax on security. With this many of them, even if Kreil’s group had a way to deal with Ariadne’s curse, they would not be able to leave without being seen. These soldiers would probably not abandon their posts before tomorrow, and by that time it would be too late, he lamented. He lay down and stretched his legs on the damp grass. His thick fingers were a good cushion for his head. He sighed, but his face was not relieved of any tension.
***
Bastet observed the wall until the sun had set. The security did not weaken. The Wesians changed shifts; those who were on guard duty went to the feast, and those who were celebrating were now coming to take their place. Bastet met Riley and Nick, and they exchanged greetings. Nick begrudgingly complained that the code of conduct did not permit them to get drunk, as it would cloud their judgment. Riley bragged about some woman that he managed to bed, and Nick told him that Kreil was still at the feast. Bastet expressed his thanks again. In response, Nick cracked a joke that Riley seemed to like, and they parted ways.
It was time. Bastet decided that he must act, and he believed he found a way to set things into motion. The bright bonfire shattered the edge of the night. He arrived at the feast, which was just as lively as when he left it. The city must have had much more food than he thought since they could sustain it for so long. Bastet quickly chewed through a pork chop to replenish his energy – he was leaving tonight, so he could not afford to have his stomach growling. He took off one of the shirts he was wearing, tied a knot at the bottom, and stuffed it with more meat. Once he escaped, he could drink water from the river, but he did not know how much food he would be able to find, so it would be best to carry some with him. Although he received no suspicious looks, he hurried to stash the bag a bit further away. He did not want to stand out, or worse, be ordered to say why he was carrying it.
Bastet circled around the premises and managed to find the place where they were leaving empty wine barrels. Those would usually be refilled, but since Stormbridge did not produce any goods, Bastet wondered why they didn’t use them as fuel for the bonfire. He took an empty barrel, went back to get the food, and then left for the river. Once he found a place well shrouded in darkness, he put the barrel down and brandished his rusty sword. He grabbed the tip of the sword with his right hand and applied pressure on the handle with his other hand. He had to rub it to get a good incision, but soon he could read the letters he carved on the surface:
I believe the one who destroyed the wall is a tall Wesian called Miara.
She has short blond hair, and is wearing black ring mail armor.
He had spent a lot of time thinking, and this was the only solution he could find. If the woman wanted to bide her time, all he had to do was make sure she doesn’t feel welcome to do so anymore. And if the Wesians were led to believe that there were enemies still within the walls, they were less likely to keep all of their troops guarding them. Ariadne’s curse does not allow Wesians to engage in reckless lies, so once they received this report, they would have to take it seriously.
Bastet saw a group of men bathing down the river. He let the barrel go downstream. If at least one of them could read, Ariadne’s curse would force them to report this to their superiors. Bastet fled the scene in a hurry, if they saw him and questioned him, they would inevitably find out about his plans to escape. He hurried to find Kreil.