Beset on All Sides

Martel woke as the first, which was unusual. He looked at Eleanor's sleeping form and saw no reason to disturb her; if she could get more sleep than him, all the better for her. He chewed on a few of their rations for his breakfast and left the thicket to collect water. After slaking his thirst in the stream, he filled both of their flasks and returned. By the time he came back, Eleanor was up, sitting outside. She accepted her water and took a sip while he sat down opposite her.

"Yesterday. Asterians and Khivans," she began by saying. "I do not think it coincidental."

"I feared it wouldn't be. But it doesn't seem like we're in danger from any of them."

"Not yet. But the only reason those legionaries would patrol the marshes would be to keep watch for us, in case we try to slip back in," Eleanor reasoned. "Given that we are not simply deserters, but prefects and mages, I doubt they will slacken their vigilance."

"Sure. But we don't intend to go back to Aster, do we? At least not that way." Martel kept quiet about his secret hope that they would never go back to Aster. "So it's not an issue for us, as long as they stay on their side of the river."

"Except that they attract the Khivans. Our route yesterday, following them, took us along the shore. They must have noticed the increased activity from the legionaries and are now dispatching their own patrols, keeping an eye on the area."

"But we are staying away from the river," Martel argued. "There's no reason the Khivans should come here, looking for us."

"The longer this goes on, the more they will be concerned. The number of Khivan patrols will only increase for every day they see legionaries on the other bank." Eleanor gave a drawn-out sigh. "Sooner or later, we will be discovered."

"We can't know that for sure," Martel claimed. "They might realise the legionaries won't ever cross."

"I cannot imagine any capable Khivan commander would take such a risk and reduce the number of eyes in this area."

"So what are we to do? The Thirteenth is west of us, and the Tenth is south. There must be a Khivan army east of us, dispatching those patrols. North is Nahavand, which will be swarming with troops from both sides as well."

"I know!" she snapped. "I know. But if we go north – the Khivans have no reason to be looking for us, so we may slip past them. Once on the other side of Nahavand, we can go northwest to Tyria as originally planned."

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Martel thought about Nahavand, the great Khivan city that lay upriver. Three legions currently besieged it, and as far as he knew, the entire region was a patchwork of battlefields, with both sides pushing back and forth, vying for control. They obviously could not go near any area under Asterian control; the legions would have received warning by now to keep an eye out for two deserting mages.

But moving through Khivan-controlled lands seemed equally fraught with danger; Eleanor might reasonably disguise herself, but Martel's blue eyes would undoubtedly raise suspicion. "I'm not sure what seems worst," he confessed. "Trying to evade Asterians or Khivans."

"You might think the fact they are fighting each other would make it easier for us, but I fear we would be a greater priority and easier prize for any of them, should they come across us."

Martel thought about all the battles he had participated in, and how he would have felt if a pair of deserters suddenly showed up. He would probably feel more anger towards them than against the Khivans, who in the end were simply soldiers fighting for the other side. And a thought struck him. "What if they weren't fighting?"

"How do you mean?"

"Khivans and Asterians. The Tenth Legion is south of us, and we know there must be a Khivan army in the region. What if they didn't fight?"

"Given everything that has happened, including recent campaigns on both sides, I cannot imagine they would ever cease."

"But if they did? If the Tenth simply refused to fight? Pulled out of Esmouth, pulled out of the war?"

She placed her hand under her chin. "The Imperial administration would not be able to supply the siege up north. It would be untenable." She paused for a moment. "The war would be unwinnable."

He smiled. "If the Tenth doesn't fight, the war must end." More than thirteen years of bloodshed could be over.

"But why would they lay down their arms? And how does any of that help us?"

"They can't arrest us if we have a whole legion protecting us. It will also get us out of this trap. And if we can end this war?" Martel stared at Eleanor. "Maybe we have to try."

"Maybe," she slowly admitted. "But I do not see why the Tenth would ever stop fighting after everything they have been through."

"You're right. At the very least, they'll need some kind of assurances. But I guarantee you that the Khivans feel the same way. They must want peace as badly as we do."

She looked at him with slow realisation. "You want to negotiate with the Khivans. An armistice."

"Yes."

"That seems a fool’s errand."

"Do we have a better choice? No matter our direction, capture seems certain. We may as well approach them on our own terms."

Martel held her gaze moment after moment, feeling anxious. If Eleanor did not believe in him, nobody else would.

"Alright," she finally said. "We are trapped here in any case. Diplomacy may be our only way out." She looked around. "We should gather our things and intercept that Khivan patrol. Trying to find the camp of their army on our own is bound to go poorly."

"It shouldn't take us long to pack," Martel jested, trying to downplay how he really felt. As they gathered their few belongings from their shelter, he thought about the few days they were given here, and how it felt like a lifetime. As they left, he glanced over his shoulder for a final look at the place where he had felt happiest in his nineteen years.