The scale armor was heavy. Mostly made from leather the chest was covered with rows of overlapping bronze plates and so were the two broad straps slung over Kion’s shoulders, keeping it in place. A belt kept the suit tight around his hips.

It was the single most valuable piece of equipment most Assanaten warriors could own. Even Assanadon, who somehow managed to keep his army in the field all year, only equipped a couple thousand of his best troops with it.

Kion rolled his shoulders to get rid of an itch on his back. It didn’t work. Being in a hurry, he hadn’t taken the time to adjust all the straps perfectly, and consequently, he had to deal with some shaving.

It’s been too long since you left Saggab, he thought. He was unused to moving with the extra weight. As part of the sar’s bodyguard, he owned his own set of armor which currently hung above his cot in the barracks. He’d been reluctant to leave it behind but had been ordered to. His superiors had thought it too conspicuous when they sent him north to meet mistress Bel’Sara.

A chief of ten led his men down the road in the opposite direction and Kion dropped his gaze. His head was covered by one of the felt caps the Assanaten wore to protect them against wind and dust. Unless somebody looked directly into his face, he should be fine.

His greatest concern was Livadios. Anybody who took a closer look at the craftsman, walking half a step behind Kion, would notice the awkwardness of his movement. The poor man had never worn armor or carried a shield. On top of that, Kion was asking him to imitate an Assanaten warrior while they openly walked through the camp.

When the whole group had passed, Kion rolled his shoulders once more. It didn’t help. He would have loved to shove his hand under his collar and scratch the itch away but carrying a whicker shield in addition to his spear, he couldn’t spare the hand.

Usually carry only a spear slightly longer than the one he’d gotten in exchange for his sharpened stick, Kion had considered leaving the shield behind. In a fight spear and shield were only a good combination when you fought in a group with comrades protecting your sides. Missing the second hand on the spear meant not just a loss in reach because you had to hold the shaft closer to the middle. You also lost the ability to rapidly change the target of your thrusts.

Of course, it’s nice against arrows, Kion thought, glancing at the quivers two warriors overtaking them at a jog carried on their hips.

In the end, he decided to take it as part of the disguise. If the boy had spread the word, the whole camp would be on the lookout for a naked man armed with a spear.

Walking down a path between the rows of tents, Kion wondered how the little bastard had managed to become an apprentice priest of Assan. Such positions were usually reserved for the upper classes of society. For the offspring of a dirt farmer from a small nameless village, it was an amazing rise.

It was a good reminder that there were other gods out there guiding their people, as Inashtar guided her followers in Saggab. The thought made Kion’s eyes narrow. Only time would tell who would be triumphant. According to the priests, Inashtar was an old goddess who had been worshipped long before the founding of Saggab. Surely, the Assanaten’s demon god wouldn’t be a serious challenge to her.

Looking ahead, Kion could finally see the end of the camp. A ring of watchfires lightened a hip-high earth wall with a trench circling the camp.

Licen had mentioned that the defenses hadn't been completed yet all around. He assumed the Assanaten leaders had them constructed to keep their warriors busy as much as for protection.

Unfortunately, the section ahead was completed and well-manned. Warriors stood together in small groups talking or gazing towards the village. While none of the men showed nervousness, an experienced eye couldn’t miss the general tension. An intruder had breached their defenses and killed their comrades. Everybody would be wondering what that meant.

Trying to seem as if they belonged, they walked slowly past the last row of tents. Kion’s eyes darted left and right, looking for an opportunity to slip through. Ideally, he wanted to get out without being noticed. It was still dark and a chase through the unfamiliar forest would be dangerous.

He almost grimaced, picturing himself lying in the woods with a broken leg. He would be just as dead as with an Assanaten arrow between his shoulders.

Turning to the left, they followed a path running parallel to the earth wall. Hopefully getting further away from the end of the camp’s main road would mean fewer guards. If they were lucky enough, they might even find one of those incomplete sections.

Some of the men greeted them and Kion always responded with a curt nod. One asked him if he knew what was going on, but he just shrugged. He kept moving, staying out of the circles of light emitted by watchfires and torches and never meeting anybody’s eyes directly.

Livadios had a harder time of it. Whenever somebody called out to them, he tensed up, his eyes nailed to his feet to avoid anybody seeing his face. To Kion, whose perception was enhanced by his Gift, the man seemed more and more like he was about to bolt.

“Nobody can see your face in the dark,” he whispered over his shoulder. “Just stay slightly behind me and I cover you.” It was hardly fair to hold his fear against him. Kion felt it too. They were essentially surrounded, another enemy’s gaze gracing them every other heartbeat. If just one of them took notice of Livadios' awkward bearing and decided to take interest, they would be done. At least you would be, Kion thought. This close to the wall he might be able to break through if he left the other man behind.

They had scarcely gotten further than a hundred paces when the noise behind them increased. All the men around him halted what they were doing, their heads turning in that direction. Deciding that they would stick out more if they ignored what was going on Kion slowed and risked a glance over his shoulder. What he saw, made a cold shiver run down his spine.

There was a group of a dozen men following the same direction. These weren’t just warriors. There were scribes and priests and even two men in the garb of the mountain tribe.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Was that Licen standing in the back? The height seemed to be right but with his face hidden by the darkness Kion couldn’t be sure.

Then his attention was caught by the figure walking in the middle of the group. The robe, the long beard, slightly converging the golden medallion hanging over his chest, and most of all the staff in his right hand, hitting the ground every second step. A magus.

It took an effort of will to turn his eyes away from the man, who might easily be more dangerous than the rest of the camp full of warriors together.

We must get away from here, Kion thought frantically. He had no idea how close Assan’s servant had to come to see through their disguise and the distance between them and the group was shrinking with every heartbeat.

Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other he started walking again. Once he was moving, he had to force himself to stay calm when everything inside him screamed at him to run. Were they catching up? While Kion tried to walk at an even pace, not to draw attention, the magus and his companions had been moving with purpose.

Kion’s eyes darted to the left, desperately searching for a good spot to disappear between the rows of tents without looking suspicious.

“That one!”

The voice hadn’t shouted but in the surrounding silence, it somehow still carried. To Kion it felt like someone had pointed the tip of a blade at the back of his neck.

Can’t be, he thought. It is still dark, and our backs are turned to them. He quickly glanced to the closest watch fire. The men standing around the fire had their heads turned in his direction. Startled, Kion looked around. Everybody was looking at them.

Nobody was moving. The men around the fire, the patrol ahead, the two bowmen standing on the earth wall. They all were staring in their direction.

Kion came to a halt and looked over his shoulder. He’d stopped so suddenly that Livadios almost ran into him.

“What…” Having had his eyes on the ground the whole time, it took the craftsman a heartbeat to notice what was going on around them.

The group around the magus had come to a halt as well. The master himself had his free hand stretched out, pointing at them. His followers seemed to be frozen in place like everybody else, looking back and forth between the magus and the random warriors.

“Catch him alive,” the magus said, his booming voice leaving no room for questions.

Three warriors wearing elaborate scale armor broke away from the group and headed for them.

Kion gritted his teeth. Having to fight his way out of the camp was the last thing he wanted. Attempting it under the eyes of an Assanaten magus would likely be his death.

Besides the three warriors, nobody around them had moved. Everybody just stood there frozen in place, watching the scene. That’s going to change the moment I make my first move, Kion thought grimly. From the corner of his eyes, he took in his surroundings. The warriors were less than twenty paces away and he knew he had to make a quick decision.

It was a simple choice of direction. Charging the warriors with the magus behind them wasn’t an option. That left three directions. Of those the wall was the most direct way out. He would have to get past the men standing around the fire quickly enough to not get encircled, jump the wall, avoid falling into the ditch, and reach the tree line. The problem was he would be exposed the whole time. Not just to archers but also to the magus. And leave Livadios behind, he thought, grimly.

The second option was to turn around and sprint down the path. In that direction, they would likely meet the most warriors but if they managed to break away from the people surrounding them here, anybody they ran into would first see comrades and hesitate. That would give Kion an advantage in any confrontation. But if they failed to break through or were slowed down, he might as well have charged the magus.

That only left one direction. He gulped.

The magus’ presents seemed to loom behind the three warriors. It was making every little hair on Kion’s neck prickle, easily overshadowing the men themselves.

Scarcely more than ten paces away now, Kion got a closer look at them in the flickering light of the fires. At a single glance, he could tell that they were elites. Their scale armor was of the best quality and reached all the way down to the middle of their thighs. Their garments were dyed in rich colors and decorated with stitching at the seams. By far most impressive was the bronze helmet the one in the middle wore over his scarred face. A piece like that had to be easily worth as much as the rest of their equipment combined.

Any untrained eye would have been intimidated by a display like this alone. Yet to Kion it was the way they carried themselves, that told him how dangerous these men were. Their eyes never wavered from him while they kept a precise distance from each other, allowing them to cover each other without hindering each other’s movements.

Inashtar, protect me against Assan’s worshippers, Kion prayed. Outwardly he sighed, looking resigned. Slowly, he let the arm carrying the shield sink, as if he was about to drop it to the ground. Then, in the last moment, he made a step forward and tossed it at the leading man’s legs.

The warrior flinched back and the shield hit the ground in front of him. All three fell into a defensive stance without missing a beat.

Taking in their reaction, Kion was grateful that he’d never intended to actually charge them. While the shield was still flying through the air, he’d already changed directions, grabbing Livadios’ arm in passing.

“This way,” he said, breaking for the tents. He only held on to the arm long enough to pull the other man around. Then he let go and sprinted ahead. “Drop your weapons.”

Catching his enemies on the wrong foot, Kion was already passing the first row before the tumult behind him started. Focusing on what was in front, he barely registered the individual shouts ringing through the night. They would attract enemies from all sides. He had to get away and disappear into the darkness ahead before the enemy formed a ring around him.

Trying to flee by charging back into the camp’s center, Kion thought. At least the archers could only target them if they had a line of sight. And maybe it was the same with the magus. Hopefully.

He jumped over ropes and changed directions a couple of times, always staying as low as possible. Behind him, Livadios struggled to follow. He’d been smart enough to drop his weapons right away, otherwise, he would never have made it.

Two rows over to his right Kion could see a warrior carrying a torch running in parallel to them.

A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that they’d won some distance to their closest pursuers. Time to spread some confusion, Kion thought, ducking around the next corner.

Carrying lights allowed him to track his enemies from afar while they in turn wouldn’t be able to see him until they came close enough. Now he was about to help them out a bit.

Sprinting forward, his timing was perfect. The torchbearer didn’t notice his sudden approach until the spear tip met the side of his neck. His forward momentum carried him another couple of steps before he crashed into a tent. The nights were still dry and the canvas caught fire immediately.

Kion didn’t linger. While the flames rapidly grew, consuming the tent and everything in it, he picked up the torch while the warrior was still moving, making croaking sounds. Running, he held it low close to the ground. Four tents down he pushed it through the flap of a tent, before immediately changing directions again.

Livadios' dark figure cowered between two tents, his head turning from side to side. When Kion appeared next to him, he almost shrieked.

“What did you do?” he asked, panicked. “What…”

Kion covered his mouth. “Silence. Come this way.”

The fire would attract all his pursuers to this spot, and he didn’t intend to still be here when they reached it.

He changed lanes a couple of times, trying to get as far as possible but when he could make out individual shadows between the ring of torches closing in from all sides, he knew it was time. Reaching the end of the next tent, he stopped and dove through the entrance, pulling Livadios behind him.

It was time to wait and pray.