Chapter 6

A long night

Kreil rested his head on the rough oak table and breathed heavily. If he kept his mouth occupied maybe the content of his stomach wouldn’t hurl out. He curled his arms above his head to shield himself from the light and noise. His tangled beard was greased with pork and drool, and he needed to wash it with more wine. He reached for the drink, but it slipped from his clumsy, sweaty fingers. Wine dripped on him from the toppled cup. His body felt heavy, and it was hard to move. – “No…” – he groaned as his drowsy face tightened into a frown. His unsteady hand moved towards the cup again, but he misjudged the distance and knocked it off the table with the tip of his fingers. He could hear the copper cup scrape against the ground, but he was sure that he would barf if he lowered his head below the table to take a look.

A tall silhouette blocked the light from the bonfire. Kreil squinted his eyes and recognized the man, who then squatted and picked the cup up from the ground. – “I see you’re scheming to render yourself unable to remember the code of conduct” – Bastet smirked as he handed him the cup – “Can’t follow an order that you don’t know about!”

Kreil’s eyes widened. Another new pair of ears to hear about her. He’s already talked about Lilian four times tonight, each time while more inebriated, but he felt obligated to speak more. He needed to make sure that if worse comes to worst, at least someone would remember that she existed. The world would be a lesser place if she was forgotten. The back of his head was aching terribly, but he still poured himself more wine – “I uh… I don’t…” – he groaned, not remembering how to start. His mind drifted in and out like the tide. He squeezed his head in an attempt to sober up, and his face flushed in response – “Here I uh… shoveling food down my throat while Lily's starving.”

-“Your daughter?” – Bastet sat down next to him – “With how much food they served today, I doubt she’s starving. Doesn’t look like Wesians are struggling with supplies.”

-“No” – Kreil looked down – “They like to keep the infantry on the brink of death. Makes them more explosive when the time comes.”

-“A terrible way to die” – Bastet provoked – “Is there no chance they’ll let her go?”

-“No” – Kreil weakly shook his head – “That’s how the infantry is. She’ll remain there until the day she’s expended in battle...” – he dug his face in his hands and cursed – “You know, it took me six hours to find out that the Wesians captured her.” – His bottom lip quivered – “No hunch, no clue that they took her away… You tell yourself that she’s your whole world… You think you’d at least collapse if your whole world was gone, but no, you have no idea that it even happened. Makes ya feel guilty. Maybe if you loved her more, then maybe...” – he reached for more wine.

-“How old is she?”

-“Fourteen.”

-“She must be dying to see you.”

-“Oh, Lily is strong.” – Kreil’s lips shook – “She’d, uh…” – He scratched his head – “Just like her mother she...”

Bastet frowned as he leaned in – “Listen, Kreil. I’m sorry to interrupt, but now’s not a good time time to talk about this. Haven’t you heard?”

-“Heard what?” – Kreil mumbled.

-“Must be because you’ve been drinking. The Wesians are after some woman called Miara. If we stay here, chances are they’ll order us to help find her.“

Kreil’s mouth dropped and his eyes widened. The nausea did not stop, but it felt like his mind broke through the drunken haze – “How could…? How would they…?”

-“Wesians seem wary.” – Bastet squinted his eyes – “Any minute now the commander could come here and order everyone to help with the search. It’d do us good if we quickly leave the feast. After all, the only way to resist an absolute order is to not be there to hear it.”

Kreil took Bastet’s hand and pulled it until he was up on his feet. He had to find Miara. But after a few staggering steps he fell down with a loud thud, vomit splashing on the stone. This will be one very long night, he thought.

***

If he managed to escape, it would prove he was worth more than a sacrificial pawn, so it would be in the best interest of Wesia that he doesn’t get used as one. Bastet repeated it in his mind like a mantra. He had to convince himself it was the truth, or else Ariadne’s curse would interfere. Barely any moonlight passed through the thick clouds. Him and Kreil parted ways, since Kreil insisted on it, saying that he would go to the river to clean off the vomit. But Bastet knew he would hurry to meet up with that woman instead. It looked like Kreil was familiar with how to get there. In no time, he was already banging on the door of a dimly lit brick house, and was then let inside. Bastet lied down nearby where the green foliage looked the thickest, and from where he could overlook the front door. This was it. His heart was pounding and his breathing was unsteady. This time he couldn’t hear anything. He cursed in his mind for Kreil to hurry up and convince her already.

The window on the left opened, and Bastet saw a silhouette dash outside so quickly that at first, he thought it had to be a shadow. He balled up his fists. He had a terrible time convincing his body to lay still. A few minutes later Miara returned with a small, unconscious girl in her arms. It happened much faster than he anticipated. Perhaps Miara had enough authority to order her release, or maybe she worked in the infantry, so it wasn’t difficult to take her out. Whichever it was, it wasn’t important. Miara handed the girl to Kreil, who put her on his back, and together they left the house. With unsteady steps, Bastet followed after them, being mindful of the distance. He only dared to go after them once they turned to a new alley. Kreil’s pace was steady, it looked like he sobered up. He wouldn’t allow himself to stagger while carrying his daughter.

So far so good, Bastet reassured himself. With their current pace, it would take them at least fifteen minutes to reach the western gate. They didn’t run into any patrols yet. Perhaps the message he carved on the barrel wasn’t taken seriously. Maybe it was better that way, he thought, since it already served its purpose in making Kreil’s group move. And just as he was debating whether it would be safe to peek around the corner and see where Kreil’s group would turn, a deafening sound blasted through the air.

Bastet could hear a foreign voice yelling – “It’s her!” – and a rush of wind blew away the smoke. He peeked around the corner, and saw that Kreil’s group was confronted by two Wesians.

-“Finish this fast, Miara!” – Kreil yelled, and she rushed to get closer to them. Her hair swirled back, and she squinted as some dust fell in her eye. Miara kneeled and pressed her hand against the cobblestone pavement, which made it break into several chunks of stone that then flew up in the air. With a wave of her hand, the stones started whirling around her, and once they built some momentum, she hurled them at the attackers. The two Wesians managed to change the direction of the stones, and with a loud noise they smashed all around, further destroying the collapsed houses.

Two fireballs kindled the night as Kreil curled around his daughter, protecting her with his body. But he felt no heat scorching his back. When he turned to look, he saw that the stone road bent upwards and formed a wide wall, which covered them from the blaze. Miara then lifted the wall up and ran towards the Wesians while holding it as cover. She took only a dozen steps before throwing it at them.

-“Look out!” – One of the two Wesians snapped the wide wall in half with a fierce gale. The parting of the stone revealed a big muscular silhouette that heaved her sword at them while her eyes gleamed with excitement. The first Wesian thrust forward with his sword, but Miara steadily deflected it with a circular swing. She took a few steps back. An orb of light whirled in the palm of her hand, and as she touched her blade bright blue colors writhed around it, basking it in thunder. She erected a stone wall behind the two Wesians to cut their escape route and rushed forward. The moment their blades met the man shrieked, and the air was filled with a scent of scorched flesh as thunder ran through him. The other man slashed at her, and his sword cut the ends of her hair as she bent to dodge it. Quickly regaining her balance, she smashed her fist against the man’s chest, deeply denting it. The first Wesian tried to increase the distance between them but she stepped on his foot, petrifying it.

At that point, Bastet realized his terrible mistake. He shouldn’t have been watching. The last order he was given specifically addressed scenarios such as this. Seeing that his superiors were in trouble, Ariadne’s curse sprung him to his feet, and his mouth opened against his will and released a loud cry to divert her attention. And it worked. Piercing through the air a single vein of lightning flashed once, roaring mightily as it struck him. Bastet lost his balance, and next thing he knew his face was dug in the dirt.

Miara’s sword was cloaked in blood as it sliced through the immobilized Wesian’s neck. He vainly put his hands over the wound to stop it from squirting blood, but he quickly lost his strength and fell on his side. The other Wesian had trouble breathing. It seemed that the previous strike broke his ribs, and made them impale his lungs. She victoriously smiled, and sliced his head off as hot blood splattered on the road. Cleaning her sword with her robe, she faced the collapsed Bastet.