“Just the tip?” Kion asked.

“Yes,” Tatros said. “That will harden it.”

Kion slowly turned the wooden pole, watching the freshly sharpened end change color over the flames. From time to time his eyes followed one of the sparks rising up into the evening sky until their light died.

On the other side of the campfire, Ditsa and Tatros prepared venison for roasting. Before Licen had split from them to lay the false trail, he’d handed Tatros his bow. Despite his leg, the old hunter had shown himself capable of stalking and bringing down a deer, big enough to feed them a couple of days.

“The heat from the fire basically bakes the tip,” Tatros said, cutting another palm-sized piece of the chunk laying on the stone in front of him. “It gets rid of the moisture in the wood. That makes it harder.”

Listening, Kion let his hand glide over the pole’s surface. It wasn’t as smooth as he would have liked but he could work on that later.

Tatros had helped him find a sapling almost as tall as him and straight enough to be turned into a spear. Kion would have preferred a longer pole but at least he wasn’t unarmed anymore. The Helcenaean had told him about a way to securely fasten a knife to the end of a pole too, but until Licen returned they only had one between the three of them.

“Will he find us here?” Kion asked.

Tatros snorted. “Easily enough with the two of you leaving a trail like that.” Ditsa looked up alarmed, but Tatros patted her shoulder. “It’s fine. I took care of it. But Licen knows where we’re going. He’ll catch up to us sometime after sunrise.”

Kion kept his eyes on his work while he considered Tatros’ words. During the day’s travel, he had alternated between the lead and rear and now Kion knew why. It was another reminder of how little he knew about this environment. I must learn what I can from him, Kion thought.

He hated relying on others for his survival.

“Do you think Atissa is alright?” Ditsa suddenly asked. Always staying close to Tatros, she’d barely said anything since they’d left the house behind earlier that day. When he’d been out hunting she’d cowered next to a tree, her eyes fixed on the ground. Preparing the food for their dinner was the first time her expression had relaxed a bit.

“They’ll have reached Riadnos by now,” Tatros said with a quick glance at Kion.

“But…but the boys said they saw two boats leave the village after we left Tepras’ place.”

“Did you send messengers by boat?” Kion asked. This was the first time he considered the river as another way out of the valley.

Tatros nodded. “They left before we marched our people to the western pass. They were supposed to warn the anax and send help through the mountains. We didn’t have the supplies to make it safely across with so many.” He cut off another piece of meat with a little more force than necessary. “Of course, then we ran into the Assanaten already camping at the entrance of the pass.”

“What do you think, when will help from Riadnos arrive?” Ditsa asked.

Kion frowned. “What do you mean?” He looked to Tatros whose eyes were on his work. “You don’t expect Riadnos to send help, do you?”

Tatros didn’t answer right away while Ditsa looked from one to the other.

“The anax must help us,” she said. “Protecting his people is his duty.”

“The city…is quite far away,” Tatros said carefully.

“Riadnos isn’t going to send their men out to challenge the Assanaten,” Kion said. “That would be ludicrous.”

“I’m from Riadnos,” Ditsa said, pride and defiance in her voice. “And we beat them before. Memnostis and Ajaxos made their ruler run all the way south.” She pointed at herself. “I know the stories and songs.”

“That was Nasser-Umabona of Saggab, child,” Tatros said, patting her arm. “And he’d left with a large part of his host before Memnostis attacked the camp.”

“Riadnos isn’t going to try to retake the valley from the Assanaten,” Kion said with certainty. “Even if the prize was worth it, they aren’t strong enough to challenge the Assanaten except maybe from behind their walls.”

Along the Golden Road, the Helcenaean had a reputation as solid fighters who gained experience in the endless squabbles between their cities. But those cities couldn’t field armies able to challenge the empires of the continent. They were brave men but, in the end, they were just barbarians.

“But what will happen to us?” Ditsa asked. When Tatros didn’t react, she turned her gaze to Kion.

Seeing her despair, Kion hesitated. Maybe I was a bit harsh, he thought. But there wasn’t much else he could say. They would have to face their fate.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe the Assanaten will leave you here when they cross the mountains to besiege Riadnos. Your timber is very valuable in the markets along the Golden Road.”

But he knew that was unlikely. The mountain tribe wanted the Helcenaean gone to take the timber trade for themselves and the Assanaten had no reason to deny them. They would sell Ditsa’s people into slavery and profit twice.

Suddenly Tatros lifted his head, staring into the dark. Alarmed Kion followed his gaze, readying himself to jump to his feet.

After a short while of listening to the noises of the nightly forest, a low whistle sounded from somewhere. Tatros immediately relaxed. He twisted his lips and produced a similar whistle, before returning his attention back to the work in front of him. By the time he’d cut two more pieces into the right size and handed them to Ditsa, Licen stepped out of the dark and took a seat at the fire.

Tatros handed him his bow. “A good piece of craftsmanship. Your grandfather made it?”

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Licen raised his eyebrows. “You can tell?”

Tatros smiled. “Best hands I ever saw. He could have made a fortune if he’d become an artisan in a city.”

“Grandfather does not like people much,” Licen said. “I think he was perfectly happy not being able to live with the tribe despite marrying my grandmother.”

Tatros laughed. “That’s true. Ipras told me Licen lived here before even he and his people came over the mountains. I guess some people just want to keep away from the community.”

The tribesman’s mouth formed a small smile and Ditsa’s stared at him baffled. Maybe the old hunter had described his own reputation.

“How did it go?” Kion asked turning to Licen.

“Good. I laid a trail to a path going up into the mountains. From there even a good tracker would have a hard time finding anything.” He took a water skin out of his bag and handed it around.

“Do you think, they’ll follow it on their own or send word to the camp first?” Kion asked.

Licen shrugged. “I do not know. I have been around these people for a while now, but their ways are strange to me. One of their leaders is dead and they probably will not want to lose a woman until they cross the western mountains. I made the trail as obvious as I could. Let us hope all nine will follow it because they think they can catch you easily.” He winked at Ditsa.

“Why’s that so important?” Ditsa asked. “I mean, we got away, right? Ipras always says nobody knows the valley like Tatros and Atissa. How can the Assanaten catch us?”

Tatros waved in Kion’s direction. “Our foreign friend here wants to sneak into their camp to meet somebody. Although we haven’t discussed yet how that’s supposed to be done.”

“Maybe we can use her?” Kion asked thoughtfully. “Can the women move around the camp freely?”

Ditsa stared at Kion across the fire, shock, and fear on her face. “I’m not going back. They think I killed that man.”

Licen shook his head. “There are guards. And especially the younger women have eyes on them at all times.”

Tatros rolled his eyes. “That’s to be expected, I guess. They’ll probably be more vigilant too, now that our men are brought back from the past.”

“What about you?” Kion asked, looking at Licen.

The young tribesman’s expression hardened slightly. “I will not free that man for you. He is a stranger and so are you. I have gone as far as I can and probably further than I should have.”

“What man?” Ditsa asked, still nervous but probably also slightly relieved that the conversation had moved away from her.

“Duba here is looking for somebody the Assanaten caught. A man from Piro.”

Ditsa looked from one to the other. “Are you talking about Livadios?”

Three pairs of eyebrows rose at the same time.

“Have you met him?” Kion asked eagerly. “I was told he was held prisoner in the village.”

“He was held separately when he was first brought to Logger’s Home,” Ditsa said. “Everybody talked about it because he was brought straight to the magi’s tent and didn’t come out for a day and a night.”

While listening to the young woman, Kion didn’t miss Tatros’ shoulders tensing at the mention of the magi. It didn’t have to mean anything. Most sane men respected and feared wilders of magic. On the other hand, he still didn’t know why Tatros had decided to run away when the loggers were brought back to their village. Most would have looked forward to being reunited with their people.

“When they were done with him, they sent him to us,” Ditsa said. “He was completely exhausted and was muttering gibberish. His body was covered with bruises and scratches. The guards allowed us to treat him so we gave him an herbal tea and he slept for two days.”

“What did he say when he woke up?” Tatros asked.

Kion leaned forward expectantly.

“Nothing much,” Ditsa said. “When he was strong enough, he was sent to work with the other men that remained in the village. They say he’s a skilled craftsman.” Ditsa looked thoughtful for a moment. “I heard he has nightmares. Our men say he wakes up screaming sometimes. They are uncomfortable around him.”

“Aren’t they keeping you women separately?” Tatros asked looking to Licen who nodded.

“We see the men when they receive their meals,” Ditsa said. “It’s the only time we can talk to them a bit.”

“Ditsa, I didn’t see your husband at Tepras’,” Tatros said. “Is he with the prisoners in the village?”

Ditsa's hand stopped working and she looked down. It was enough for the men to guess, and nobody asked any further.

Tatros took the meat spits that she’d prepared and placed them over the fire. The chunks were cut thin enough to cook quickly and it didn’t take long for the smell of roasted venison to fill the air.

The silence gave Kion time to think. The chance of him being able to sneak into the Assanaten camp undetected was slim to none. Licen might be able to reach Livadios, but the tribesman had no reason to help him further. Could he abandon his mission here and return to mistress Bel’Sara? No, the goddess despised cowards, he thought. He was bound to the sage’s orders and had to at least make an attempt. But how?

“Ditsa, can you describe the camp to me?” he asked. “Where the prisoners sleep and work? Where the guards are posted?”

The young woman looked unsure to Tatros but the old hunter only shrugged and nodded. Thus, she began to describe the layout of the camp and the daily routines of the Helcenaean prisoners. Kion guided her with more questions and Licen and Tatros commented here and there as they possessed a clearer understanding of what Kion was looking for.

By the time they began to eat, Kion was thoroughly discouraged. While the Assanaten didn’t seem to expect any kind of resistance, the measures they took seemed to be flawless. Day and night there were multiple lines of guard posts around the camp. Patrols were sent out daily to a couple of smaller outposts like Tepras’ and within the camp, a group of warriors was held ready to react to an attack at all times.

Chewing on his food, Kion once more had to admit the Assanaten army was far superior in organization than anything Saggab could field. It didn’t mean they were unbeatable but he didn’t look forward to the next inevitable war between Assanadon and Nasser-Zeribona. Coming from the lowest part of Saggab’s society, Kion had no education in history or politics but he wasn’t stupid. As part of the sar’s bodyguard, he’d quietly stood behind the greatest men of his city. From what he’d learned listening to their deliberations his sar might even be forced to strike first, should Assanadon take control of Riadnos in addition to Piro. The trade with the northern continent was too lucrative. If the Assanaten sar controlled it all, soon he would be able to raise an army capable of swallowing Saggab and every other city along the Golden Road including the old empires far to the south.

Kion shook his head. None of this was his responsibility. His only concern should be his mission and upholding his oaths.

“You see?” Licen asked. “It is not possible to sneak in.”

Kion couldn’t refute him. In truth, he’d come to the same conclusion. It seemed the Asssanaten had made their preparations with the only threat that remained in the valley in mind – the mountain tribe.

“You should go to my grandfather’s place,” Licen said. “He can provide you with enough supplies to make the trip over the mountains.”

Ditsa perked up hearing his suggestion, but Tatros was surprisingly quiet. His arms crossed, his eyes stared passed them as if contemplating something. After a while, he turned to Kion. “What do you think?”

Kion hesitated. “I have made an oath in front of the goddess. It might not look possible right now but that doesn’t mean there won’t come an opportunity eventually.” He tried to sound resolute yet in truth he couldn’t imagine how. Maybe there would be a chance when the Assanaten eventually moved to start the attack on Riadnos. But that might still be weeks away.

“Yeah,” Tatros sighted. “That’s what I thought.” He uncrossed his arms and rolled his shoulder as if wanting to get rid of some tension in his muscles. “How about this then – we’ll help you make an attempt. But,” he raised his finger, “no matter if it succeeds or not, you swear to help me and Ditsa across the mountains afterward.”

Kion was surprised. Had the old hunter seen a way Licen and himself had overlooked? It wasn’t impossible. From his stories, Kion had no doubt that he really was a veteran of the Saggab’s army and the spear wounds on his right arm told of a man who had seen battle.

“Do you have a plan?” Licen asked. He tried to sound respectful, but he couldn’t quite keep his doubt from his voice.

“A bad idea,” Tatros said. “Can you swim Duba?”

Kion shook his head. He’d never even been on a boat.

“That makes failure and death more likely,” Tatros said shrugging. Seeing the looks of the people around the fire, he pointed at Kion. “Just his.”