Ymdaton tried his best to not make any sudden moves. The protector glared at him, its whiskers pointed forward in a gesture of interest. Crewslayer could feel thing’s thoughts. He encountered magicians from southern kingdoms who knew the trick of making words ring in one’s mind. There was nothing so blunt. The creature conveyed the message through the sheer presence, without any sound or movement.
In an instant Ymdaton understood that it knew his true identity, knew of his kin in Khladnetz, knew of his mission in Velmytop, it knew everything by just looking at him. It bore no hostile intentions, not yet. Because it was not afraid.
In the shining blue eyes of the guardian the warrior saw memories of times before a man first stepped into the forest, the knowledge of places that he could not imagine, creatures that he could not believe in, truths that he could not comprehend. He was nothing before power and intelligence of that ancient creature. The very thought of opposing it with a blade seemed laughable.
It was aware of their plans. It allowed them to act out of curiosity. The thing was interested just how far a bunch of Kinani would go. How long it would take them to break. Now it wanted to test them with war. Now it wanted to test Ymdaton, yes, it even knew his name. It wanted to test how good he was at war, here and now.
As the last thought passed through his consciousness, Crewslayer braced. A roar rolled through the streets, echoing between walls. Ymdaton instantly felt the pressure against his mind abate, as the creature turned its ears backwards. A low rumbling noise came from north, as if a landslide was happening there. The protector did burst into action suddenly , running in that direction with wide leaps, vanishing from Ymdaton’s sight behind a row of houses.
The warrior let a long sigh of relief. He glanced at his right arm. It was clenched tight around the handle, trembling. Crewslayer scolded himself with an unspoken dirty word.
When he rejoined the rest of his party, the caravan was already prepared for the departure: bakhmats burdened with goods, warriors and serfs wearing travel clothes. The old man greeted him.
“We almost left without you,” said he, “What took you so long.”
“I was being introduced to local culture,” shrugged Ymdaton, gathering his composure, “What is happening?”
“The city is under attack,” Lulaton gave him a long look. He could not see warrior’s face under the helmet, but Crewslayer felt as if the advisor still read his emotions somehow.
“What kind of an attack comes in the middle of winter?”
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“The forest attacks,” the old one turned and waved his hand, ordering caravan to move, “Come, we don’t have much time. We are ought to find a way out of the town.”
Kinani moved through Velmytop slowly. Two crewmen were constantly scouting streets ahead, reporting for danger. There were many small fights, and the caravan avoided them all, leaving citizens alone to defend their city. Ymdaton was not chosen as an outrunner, so he did not see much. Several times he got glimpses of militia battling the invaders further away on side avenues.
After some time they stopped. Lulaton gathered all twelve warriors of the escort.
“Have you noticed the direction from which the attack comes?” asked he his scouts.
“From the northern parts of the city, I believe. All the raiding troops marched from there,” answered one of them.
“What kind of foes are those? They are not humans, aren’t they?” asked Ymdaton in an upbeat tone.
The old man gave him a wary look.
“They do look like humans, although they seem to have four arms each and wear much lighter armour than forest dwellers usually do,” said the other scout, “But we did not have a luxury of ogling them for a long time, you know.”
“That will suffice, thank you,” nodded Ymdaton.
“You are welcome, Crewslayer,” the warrior pronounced a moniker with a deference which bordered on awe. Ymdaton heard such intonations when people spoke about heroes of songs. It made him smile like a child who received praise.
Lulaton clapped his hand twice, acquiring everyone’s attention again. His expression was dissatisfied.
“Calm down. I won’t let you to get into a stupid meatgrinder just because there is a hero among you. We will move northwards, avoiding any confrontation as before. It is impossible for us to get city gates open, the militia are too frightened now to let some strangers pass by. There ought to be a breach in the north part of the wall, from where the attackers are coming. We will escape through it.”
“Sounds like you are leading us into another meatgrinder,” said one of crewmen, “There will be stars know how many more raiders just behind the breach.”
“I do not believe this,” Lulaton shook his head, “These are things of the woods, not men. They will not be so smart to leave a rearguard. They will flood the city with all their numbers. They will be either all attacking or all retreating, not advancing as you’d expect from an army. Anyway,” he circled his warriors with a look, “Maybe someone has a better idea?”
All were silent.
“Thought so. Then we move out. Now.”