I expected we would make Kurnich by the late afternoon today, barring major delays, which would mark the completion of the first of the three legs of our journey. I was quite looking forward to the chance to stop in a real town for a while, after the time on the road. Zimmerdorf -- or whatever it was called -- had been nicer than the hunter’s cabin, and the cabin nicer than sleeping under a tree, but neither was as good as His Highness likely expected.

It should also, I devoutly hoped, offer a chance to wash up properly, something of which both His Highness and I were sorely in need. The prince was mainly dirty with sweat and tracked mud, though I assumed he and I both smelled strongly of horse as well, but I was of course matted with mud, blood, and who knew what else. Our coats had somewhat dried by the fire overnight and I had taken the opportunity to beat some of the dirt out of mine, but a great deal was ingrained in the fabric by now. A couple of basins of water and some laundering would do us both good.

Kurnich was also our rendezvous point with our guide for the second leg. Although I hailed from near the border with Szekerya and knew the land a little, I was no real woodsman. The light forest near the mountains and Nachberg was one thing; the dense, impenetrable woods of the Ostwald were quite another. Of course, the finest advice a guide could give was not to leave the road, and I had no intention of doing so, but if push came to shove it simply made sense to have someone along who could, perhaps, navigate the wilds without getting hopelessly lost or aggravating any of the local wildlife. The wyvern, terror of the skies though it was, was much smaller than many of the beasts that lurked in the deep woods where the sun never breached the canopy.

I read from my sheaf of orders again as we walked, trusting to His Highness’s sharp eyes to spot anything untoward ahead of us between my glances around. Jäger Sasha Kaczmarek, it read, along with concise directions to the Kurnich barracks where we should find him. Or rather, find the small standing Kurnich guard and give the commander -- one Oberst von Siebert -- the sealed orders that the jäger was to accompany us through the Ostwald, and beyond if needed.

It seemed simple enough, and I had high hopes that it would actually be that simple. Although the capital was in strife, there was no reason to believe anywhere else would be unduly affected, although the wyvern and the vacated cabin had me hedging my certainty somewhat.

Nevertheless, my joy was not mixed with too much trepidation when the smoke of chimneys rising over Kurnich came into view over the horizon.

“Not too much longer from here, your Highness,” I commented. “Should be there well before dark, I’d say, and then we’ll have good lodgings again. Even a hot bath, I should think, sir.”

“I’m quite looking forward to it, gefreiter,” He replied. “Will we be making for the Ostwald immediately, tomorrow?”

“That is the plan, your Highness. We’ll meet with Oberst von Siebert this afternoon, sir, and then with Jäger Kaczmarek. In the morning we’ll restock on provisions and anything the jäger says we need, sir, and be on the road again with all haste.”

“Do you know anything about this Kaczmarek, Schreiner?” His Highness asked idly.

“No, your Highness,” I said, shaking my head. “No more than you do, sir, only that he’s been chosen for the job by the chief staff and the General himself, sir, so I should imagine he’s skilled.”

“More so than you?” There was only genuine curiosity in the prince’s question, and I didn’t hesitate before answering.

“Of course, your Highness. I’m a footsoldier by trade, sir, and a bit of a cavalryman when needed, and neither fares particularly well in the forest. The open field is my business, your Highness, that or the walls of a fortress, not the Ostwald. I can hardly think how you’d even get a horse off the road in there, sir.”

Munter snorted softly, seemingly at my comment, and I patted the side of his neck. “But you’re a sturdy beast, Munter, don’t fret. He’s enough spirit I don’t doubt he could plow straight through a tree if he needed to, your Highness,” I added, to the prince. “And with his performance against a screaming wyvern, I’d almost be surprised if he balked for anything less than all the spears in Zdorland.”

His Highness grinned. He was on foot, for now, giving his saddle-sore legs a reprieve, and he too reached up to pat the horse’s neck. “I am sure we will be in excellent hands and… hooves, I suppose, gefreiter.”

“The best there are, your Highness, the best there are.” For a moment I expected a riposte about the Temple Guard, but then I sighed slightly. Of course, Otto wasn’t here. I hoped he and Wagner were alright. The situation had been growing grimmer when I left, and whether the keep was unbreakable or not didn’t mean anything if the rest of the 2nd Battalion had fallen outside the palace while we escaped.

“Is something the matter, Schreiner?” His Highness asked, noticing my sudden absent look.

I shook my head to clear it and reseated my hat. “Nothing, your Highness. Just thinking on old friends, sir, nothing to note.”

We walked on quietly for a bit, watching the spires of smoke grow nearer over the crest of the next hill.

“Do you suppose they’re alright?” Asked the prince in an uncharacteristically small voice.

“In Nachberg, your Highness?” I said.

He nodded, eyes down.

“I’m quite certain they are, your Highness. The keep in Nachberg has never been taken by storm and it shan’t be now, and taking it by siege is a fool’s prospect, sir. The Temple Guard will be there in weeks at most, leaving aside the rest of the Empire, and then it’s as good as finished,” I said, quite honestly. I didn’t think it was an exaggeration to say the Torrean attack had been hopeless since the first wave had failed and the Royal Family had been able to withdraw to the keep.

“I do hope you’re right.” His Highness still sounded unconvinced.

“Quite certain, sir,” I repeated. “The Queen’s Guard and the Temple Guard are the finest soldiery under the sun, your Highness, and the Scholar-in-Residence is a brilliant man -- although of course you would know better than I, your Highness.”

The prince imitated my earlier head shake. “I’m sure it will be fine,” He agreed, only a trifle reluctantly.

The silence lasted until we crested the hill, where I stopped, narrowing my eyes. From here, it looked like there were too many spires of smoke, covering too much ground. Unless Kurnich had doubled in size since I’d last heard, anyway, and that seemed a terribly unlikely turn of events.

“What is it, gefreiter?” His Highness asked.

“Too much smoke, your Highness, too spread out,” I said. “I can’t say for certain what’s afoot, sir, but I’m worried. We’d best continue, though. Just keep your eyes peeled, your Highness, and let me know if you spot anything.”

I’d left my arquebus hanging from the saddle while we walked, being as it was rather heavy to tote around for no reason, but now I lifted it off and slung it over my shoulder. The weight was comforting. I checked my cartridge pouch, too, feeling the tops of the paper rolls and checking none had been wetted by the rain, and halfway drew my scimitar before sliding it back home. The crusting of gunk was building up something awful, but not so I couldn’t get it out, not yet.

The peak of the next hill felt like it took an age to reach, and I had to fight the urge to pick up the pace. There was no need to rush. Whatever had befallen had befallen, and there was very little chance the difference of a few minutes in our arrival time would matter. Better to be rested -- well, less exhausted; neither of us could be said to be rested -- and use the energy to make up any trouble, rather than rush it.

When we reached it the only reason I didn’t utter worse imprecations than when the prince had spotted the wyvern was that this time, I wasn’t surprised. Painted across the landscape below us, outside and near on investing the pretty town of Kurnich, was the encampment of a small army.

I sighed. “Your Highness, your eyes are better than mine. They wouldn’t, by any chance, be flying the Torrean flag, would they?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

The prince shook his head. “I’m afraid so, gefreiter,” He replied, back to the small voice. “What are we going to do?”

I drew in a deep breath and straightened my shoulders, suppressing a wince. Munter gently nudged the boy’s head with his nose, apparently picking up on his anxiety. His Highness sputtered, and I suddenly let out a laugh.

“Why, your Highness, we get in the same way as we got out last time. We make a run under cover of night.”

***

We had tracked back to the previous hill and camped out a little way off the road while we waited for dark, not wanting to be spotted or to arouse suspicion, not that the army would be likely to be too concerned with a man and a child travelling. Although if they got a good look at the engraved barrels and lockplates on my arquebus and dragonets they probably would be concerned, even if the sheer number of weapons I was carrying didn’t trouble them already.

Now, in full dark, I led Munter along the edge of the cleared ground outside Kurnich, His Highness in the saddle. I walked between them and the town, eyes peeled for the slightest hint of light where it shouldn’t be. We moved slowly, having no lights, and flinched at every unexpected noise. The lead rope in my left hand, I held my drawn scimitar with the right. Gunfire would be the single surest way of bringing the full Torrean army down on our heads.

Our target was a broad corridor through the encampment between the deployments of two companies. There were too few soldiers to effect a complete encirclement of the town, so gaps had been left in places deemed less important -- where the forest was thick and the town’s walls had no gates, for instance. In aid of secrecy our route to Kurnich had taken us along less-trodden back roads, which I had not been best pleased with while we were travelling, but now it played into our hands. A contingent of soldiers was indeed camped across the road, barring direct access to the town, but the contingent was not so large as many of the rest across the arterial road and that left an opening relatively near us.

We were nearly to the gap when I spied a pair of lanterns emerge from the edge of the forest ahead only some fifty metres away, walking the reverse of our own route. Immediately I pushed Munter across, leading him and His Highness into the forest a ways.

“Hold here a minute,” I whispered to the prince. “The patrol may pass us, but we cannot count on it.”

I waited long enough to see his nod -- at least I thought I saw it; we were lit only by a very little moon through the clouds -- before turning and creeping back towards the edge of the forest, ready to intercept the sentries if they detected the prince. I hoped they wouldn’t notice us, not in this dark at this hour.

Of course, by saying that I somehow jinxed our luck.

I was crouched behind a coppiced tree, listening intently to the footsteps of the approaching patrolmen and the creaking of their boots, when the sounds abruptly halted, to be replaced by a hushed exchange in Torrean.

Of course, I didn’t speak a lick of Torrean. I could read in Satern and make myself understood in Zdorish, perhaps with the aid of some gestures, but Torrea was far across the Freibergen and an isthmus. I could still make out the tone, and it wasn’t promising. I thought I caught words that sounded a bit like the Satern for “horse” and then “soldier” and I shifted, but I wasn’t sure. I mentally cursed the soft mud left by the rain, which would show our tracks clearly and was probably what had betrayed us.

Any doubts were laid to rest when one of them sighed dramatically and said something I didn’t need to know the language to recognise as a grudging agreement. Then the footsteps started up again, moving closer. I pulled my hat lower and tucked my head into my shoulders, covering my scimitar with the tails of my coat, willing the sentries to overlook me as another patch of shadow.

The light grew brighter and I held my breath. Then the light was shining directly onto me and it took everything I had not to leap up right then, but in a moment it was past and I breathed out for a moment.

The soldier in the lead was staring down, his eyes fixed on the tracks, while the one walking behind didn’t seem to be paying attention to much of anything. I guessed he was the one who had been arguing in favour of ignoring the tracks, while the other was the more conscientious one. Their mix of attention and inattention had led them to walk right past me without looking, and the dark of my hat and coat had been enough that they hadn’t seen anything untoward out the corners of their eyes.

As they passed me, I rose to my feet as silently as I could, freeing my scimitar and taking the slowest of steps after them. In a moment… there. The tracker suddenly stopped and stooped, pointing at the ground. He’d seen my tracks going the wrong way, I was sure.

In the moment he was looking down and his comrade was distracted I crossed the distance with a huge step, scimitar raised. One long cut to the back of the neck, the body tumbled like a puppet with its strings cut. Carried the momentum into another step, a brutal executioner’s chop downwards with my left hand gripping the pommel.

In the space of a second the patrol was snuffed out with no more sound than their lanterns hitting the ground. I fought down my rising gorge to extinguish the lanterns and drag the bodies out of our way out of the forest. It didn’t feel right, much worse than standing and firing, but what choice did I have?

I returned to His Highness, taking the lead rope and guiding Munter back towards the clearing.

“We’re on a fuse now, your Highness. The patrol will be expected back, although I don’t know when and they likely won’t make much of it until they’ve been late for some time,” I said. Then, as we passed the coppiced trees where blood slicked the path I added, “Best not to look, sir. It’s a grim business.”

My voice was steady, but inside I felt anything but. I had my duty to fulfill, and I clung to that.