Jack awoke to a thump. He slowly began to make sense of his surroundings. He heard the clip-clop of hooves, and the creaking and groaning of wood.

I’m in a… In a…

“Good, yer’ awake.” A gravely voice spoke.

His vision cleared. Jack was sitting in a, surprisingly comfortable, chair in a carriage. Beams of light shot though the small opening in the front. The first thing he noticed about the carriage was that it was not covered with cloth or canvas, but rather solid wood.

“Hey.” The man snapped his fingers. “I was talking to you. Unfortunately, we couldn’t let you die, but don’t worry, you’ll probably have some time for that later.”

Jack took his time to observe some more, before he faced the man. He didn’t say anything, just giving him a nod.

The man was sitting with his legs crossed. The man was about average height. Not too stocky, but he was muscular, obviously he from his demanding career, He wore plate armor with the toothed arrow emblem on the left breast like any other soldier, expect for the fact he had several rank chevrons the covered most of his right breast. Jack slowly went up the mans face. He had several scars and was missing part of his ear.

He pinched out a flame in candle next to him.

“Get I get smoke? My pipes in my sachel.”

“Don't have it. If you want your sachel, it right where I found it at.” He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction that they were moving.

He leaned forward with a smirk on his face. “Judging from your teeth, it’s pretty obvious you haven’t smoked a day in your life. But I would give you one if I had one. You wont be needing your teeth for much longer, depending on what method of punishment the king shall apply.”

Jack said nothing.

“Why did you assassinate Princess Zalina?”

They must have quick messangers.

He still said nothing.

The man relaxed his position. “What is your name?”

Silence.

The man got up, putting up the latern on a shelf. He grunted. “I was simply asking, so we would have something to put on a gravestone.”

Jack still said nothing. Why would he? Talking to Oberion wouldn’t do anything useful. I wouldn’t buy him time. He certainly wouldn’t be able to talk himself to freedom. The only thing that talking to Oberion would do woul be to distract him from coming up with a plan to escape.

The man stared at him. Trying to mentally unravel Jack’s motives and origins.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, Oberion got up and walked to the front of the carriage, disappearing behind the canvas. As he did, light shot through the space between the canvas. Jack moved to cover his face, but his hands were bolted down, forcing him to squit and readjust his vision.

In that burst of light he manage to catch a quick glimpse of the rest of the interior of the carriage. There was a chest, which must have been where they were keeping his stuff, a few other cargo-looking crates, a shelf with nothing on it, illuminated by the lantern which sat on it.

Listen to you surroundings. Pay attention. Act.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He heard the creaks of wood, the clip-clop of hooves, probably oxen, the squeeking of the axel, and the chirping of birds… to about his right.

Those birds that always woke him up in the morning, the annoying ones.

Morning… It must be morning!

Not very useful. Jack already knew it was daytime. It was impossible for the translucent canvas and the wood with gaps to prevent all light from entering.

But why day? More importantly, why morning?

Obviously morning had its advantages. Most carriages traveled by day, both personal and cargo. You could see where you were going. And If you had to make a pit stop, it would be dark to sleep.

But this wasn’t a cargo delivery, it was military convoy, and he was the most wanted man in Dawvlands. So why not travel at night? Monsters…

Monsters.

It slowly dawned on him why. If you traveled in broad daylight, of course you would be a target for attack, but for monsters in general. Usually wild, and unorganized attacks from a few weak entities. Bad news if you were just a civilian caravan, but for a military convoy, it would be no problem.

Thinking of monster behavior brought back something he heard about. Ruben was rambling on and on about monster tactics and “Outplaying them.” Of course no one was listening, no one except Jack, that is.

He was suddenly filled with sadness. He missed the branch a lot. Ruben ranting in his monotone voice about mathematics and probability, Carl always doing something to brighten the mood, Kuhara’s aloof personality, but most of all, he missed Wyatt and his teachings. Even if he was only a member of the team less than a month, they were already like family to him.

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Oberion popped his head back in abruptly, inturrupting Jack’s thoughts.

“We’re almost to the gates, I’d suggest you give us as much information as you have, considering you’ll probably die later this week anyways.”

Oberion disappeared again.

Why morning- Ah, right the monsters.

He remembered it now. Ruben was talking about how Orcs wouldn’t just look for lights during the night, but also for smoke during the day. It was popular belief that it was much safer to travel under cover of night, especially for long distances. Orcs, goblins, and other bipedal monsters would ambush unsuspecting camps, drawn by the smoke from their campfire, especially in the daytime.

That still didn’t answer the question of why they were traveling in the morning specifically.

Wait…

Orcs and goblins slept longer than humans and elves and demihumans. They woke up later.

That meant that Oberion was fully aware that Orcs would be waking up late in the morning and wanted to put as much distance between the convoy and the forest as possible.

An idea popped into Jack’s head. The most insane, dangerous plan he could imagine.

He shoved his foot into the shelf. The lantern rocked.

Not enough.

He hit it harder this time. The lantern wobbled, then tipped over and rolled the side.

Come on!

The lantern rolled to him, stopping near his waist. He leaned as far as he could to grab it. When he finally go ahold of it, he smashed it into the ground, shattering the glass case and exposing the flame.

He was going to make a fire.

He pressed the lantern against the wall, making sure not to snuff out the flame. Fine smoke began to appear as the wood of the walls darkened and charred.

Damn! If only I had my knife with me!

But his knife was sitting in the box, completely useless to him.

“What’s that smell?” Oberions muffled voice startling Jack so much he almost dropped the lantern.

Before Jack could react, the canvas flew open. Oberions face went from confused, to even more confused.

“What the- What the fuck are you doing?!”

Oberion rushed forward, snatching the flame out of Jacks hands and snuffing it out with his fingers. To Jack’s dismay, the smoke dissipated.

The knife! He could control it with his mind, right?

Ignite! He thought, just as an enraged Oberion threw a sack on his head.

Orange and yellow light illuminated, even through the sack, Jack knew that his plan worked.

“Put it out!” Barked Oberion. Followed by the flapping of canvas, trying to suffocate the fire.

No!

The light began to dim. The fire needed more air.

Xazanu vapuramu gufuzu! He remembered the spell perfectly.

The whole room glowed like the sun.

“Evacuate!” Oberion shouted.

Carriage halted abruptly, throwing Jack forward like a ragdoll. He felt someone grabbing him and throwing. Then the sensation of grass, and heat radiating from where he had just been. He thrashed like a wet dog, flinging the sack off his head and taking a gasp of fresh air.

The carriage was engulfed in a fireball. Smoke billowed like a storm above. He saw soldiers grabbing items and throwing them out of the carriage. He saw his shovel, his knife, and his bandelier tossed out.

Jack crawled towards them instinctively.

“Oh no you don't.” Oberion snarled. He kicked the air out of Jack’s chest. He flipped onto his side, pushing Oberion back with his legs, he flew backward, tripping on a rock. He heard a clinking sound behind him. Another man, who seemed to be the driver, was running to help. ON his waist was a key ring.

“Stay back!” Oberion shouted, but the man didn’t listen. He charged at Jack, who was now on his feet, his hands still tied. Jack intercepted the man, despite having no hands to work with, and head butted the driver, causing him to slip on the dirt beneath them. Jack stuck both his hands forward, grabbing the keys on the man’s belt.

Then he heard a sound that sent chills down his spine.

A horn. Distant, but unmistakable. It was a raid horn.

The orcs were coming.

Oberion seemed to notice this. He picked up a bow from the ground and aimed it over the hills.

“On your feet men!” He commanded, his aim unwavering.

Then, just a moment later, a figure appeared at the top of the hill. He held a stick with a human skull on it.

Oberion released his grip on the arrow, letting it fly into the fat neck of the orc that stood on the frontier. It’s body stiffened at the impact of the arrow, then wobbled and collapsed.

Suddenly, 5 orcs on horseback came over the hills, screaming a cry of battle.

Oberion lowered his bow. “Grab the prisoner! Man the cannon!”

Jack felt two people grabbing him. He still fumbled with the keys, attempting to unlock his cuffs.

Click

He snapped his hands back, punching the two who were dragging him back, stunning them for a few moments. Just enough time for Jack to leap forward and grab his weapons and bandelier.

Then Jack took it all in. The chaos that unfolded before his eyes. The wooden carriage he had just escaped was nothing but smoking pile of wood. Most of the soldiers we now preoccupied with the orcs. The orcs were screaming something in another language as the fired arrows and threw spears at the scattered troops. Oberion managed to catch one of the spears thrown at him and threw it back, brutally impaling its original owner. A loud sound nearly deafened him.

The sound came from a black cannon mounted on one of the carriages. He watched the cannonball fly across the field hitting an orc. The shot blew his head into little pieces.

The orcs on horseback went silent for a moment, then roared in anger as they came around to charge the troops again. The sight seemed to snap Jack back to reality. He scrambled onward in the direction the convoy was originally going.

He heard more cannon fire behind him. A shot whistled by his head, smashing into an orc that had followed him with a horse, leaving him with a cup sized hole in his abdomin. The horse slowed upon seeing Jack. Jack wasted no time leaping on the abandoned steed.

He took one last look behind him. By now, the rest of the army was starting to catch up, Jack could see the other carriages, cannons, and footmen, rapidly approaching the battlefield from over the hills.

Some of the orcs saw this too. The sound of horns right throught the field, probably calling for a retreat. Jack saw a few orcs following the leaders back to the safety of the forest, but most of the others stayed and continued their now losing battle. They either didn’t see, realized or care that enemy reinforcement was imment.

He wasted enough time. Pressing his heels against the chest of the stallion, he fled the scene.

Jack couldn’t hear from the noise of clashing metal and cannonfire, but Oberion was cursing at the top of his lungs.