Among the Dead and Dying

  * * *

  Ebon had oiled the hinges of Ward’s wagon, and was opening it when they heard a horn blowing in the distance. Ebon stopped, and Ward gazed out at the camp in the direction that the noise had come from.

  “An alarm?” asked Ward.

  “They know we’re escaping,” said one of the merchants. “Hurry and let us out.”

  “We need to move, fast,” said Ebon.

  “Where’s Saffi?” asked Ward after he got down from the wagon.

  The camp was erupting in chaos now as the marauders awoke and left their tents to see why the alarm had been raised. The other prisoners in the wagons weren’t going to wait any longer to make their escape, and started to leap down. Marauders yelled out that the prisoners were escaping, and several of them were headed their way.

  “She’s safe, up on that hill,” said Ebon as he pointed back at the dead tree. “I can get her to safety, but she wants you to come with.”

  “I can’t,” said Ward. “Not with my leg like this. But I can buy you some time. Get her out of here.”

  “Let’s get you a weapon first,” said Ebon before glancing over at the marauders charging their way. The other prisoners had fled into the weeds, scattering as they ran away.

  Ebon waited for the marauders to advance, taking advantage of their reckless assault. The first wielded a sword, and the other a battle axe. Ebon slid one of his knives from his chest and threw it with deadly precision. The throwing knife lodged into the battle axe wielder’s left eye, causing him to drop his weapon and fall to the ground, screaming in agony. The other marauder paused and looked over at his friend, giving Ebon time to rush in, grab his arm, and then chop down with his curved blade, cutting to the bone and forcing the marauder to drop his weapon. Next, Ebon jabbed his elbow into the man’s throat, which knocked him off his feet and to the ground hard.

  Ebon used his foot to flip the man’s sword up into the air, caught the handle, and then walked over to offer it to Ward. “Are you proficient with swords?”

  “Not as crafty as you, but I can hold my own,” said Ward.

  “Meet us in Sailor’s Rock,” said Ebon. “I’ll protect Saffi.”

  “You’d damn well better, stranger,” said Ward.

  Ebon left the wounded former Sixth-Sword and headed back into the weeds. He paused when far enough away to feel safe, and then gripped the pull-string on his sleeve. It was attached to a pouch hidden along his arm, and when pulled it would release a noxious concoction that an alchemist had brewed up for him that, when wet, would burst into flames and issue forth a dramatic amount of smoke and gas. He pulled at the string, and the grey powder fell to the dirt. Next he used his hooked blade to slice his throat, sending a torrent of poisoned blood down to ignite the powder.

  Once the powder exploded, he fled into the night, headed for the tree where Saffi waited. He wasn’t sure if she would be willing to leave without her father, but he didn’t plan on giving her an option. He couldn’t risk her safety now that the camp was aware of the escape. If he had to, he would knock her out and carry her away from here.

  Saffi was waiting by the tree like she was supposed to, and Ebon was about to explain that Ward was fighting to buy them time, but the girl pointed out at the camp. She asked, “Who were those men that attacked?”

  “What do you mean? What men?” asked Ebon.

  “The men on the horses over there,” said Saffi. “That’s why they sounded the alarm.”

  Ebon looked back at the camp, although the smoke he’d unleashed hid most of it from view.

  “A group of men on horseback rode down into the camp. They were attacking the marauders. Who were they?” Then she looked around and asked, “Where’s my dad?”

  Ebon came to an awful realization as he looked back down the hill at the plume of smoke. He realized that he’d been trailed, and that his use of the powder had served to reveal his location to his hunter.

  Dessidus rode forth through the smoke, unaffected by the noxious fumes, his dual axes raised as his mount charged up the hill.

  “Get behind the tree,” said Ebon as he produced two more throwing knives. “If I die, then run. Do you hear me? Just run, and don’t stop. Whatever happens, don’t let them take you to The Scholar.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” asked Saffi, terrified and desperate.

  There was no time to explain. Dessidus was upon them, screaming out the name of his old friend and new foe, “Ebon!”