It took all night, but eventually morning happened as a sort of collective complaint. One by one they all staggered up, starting with Zantheus and ending with Anthē. She was right at her physical limit, and needed help from the knight just to walk. One thing was on all of their minds: Food. Their mouths were dry and parched and their bellies rumbled. The events of the previous night had drained their energy, and their bodies needed water and fuel before anything else could happen.

Anthē was the first person to speak. “Where shall we go now?”

Zantheus, Tromo, Anthē and Tektes all looked at each other.

Tektes offered a proposal. “The most sensible thing to do would probably be to head north-east.”

“I agree,” said Zantheus at once. He had remembered the words “north-east” being said in Leukos’s voice. He was always thinking of Qereth, even now.

Tektes took something out of a pocket. “I have a compass. I kept it hidden from the thieves.”

“We can use that then,” said Zantheus.

“Alright then,” said Tektes. “We should continue on horseback for as long as possible. We need to conserve our energy until we can find food.”

The four of them mounted or were lifted onto the grumpy horses, who had woken up in an unhappy. They processed in solemnity over the fields, wondering from where and when their next meal would come. Zantheus thought through their situation as he guided his and Anthē’s horse at a slow trot. Just the other day he and his two travelling companions had been in high spirits, excited at the prospect of being so near to Qereth, and even all enjoying one another’s company for the first time. Now they had been delayed and hindered from reaching their goal once more. They had been lucky to escape with their lives from the den of thieves.

Zantheus was angry. He was angry at the thieves, angry at the fields, angry at the world, angry at...Leukos. Where in Mashal had Leukos got to? How could he have left them on their own all over again? None of the bandits had mentioned him. He must have run away. He had disappeared at the first sign of trouble. That stupid, stupid boy! Leukos did not care whether they lived or died! Zantheus did not have a big enough vocabulary to curse Leukos properly, but he would have used it if he had.

They trudged on. The journeyers’ stomachs started to sear with pain and their throats became itchy and crackly, their heads dizzy. They were forcing their bodies to continue, but soon this would no longer be possible. They could not last much longer. The horses grew wearier with each step. Anthē started to sway where she sat. She felt dizzy. All the colour was being sucked out of the world. She felt as though they were slowly walking into a pale, grey oblivion.

“Road,” said Tektes. He had sighted a dirt track that crossed their path in the distance.

Soon they were on it. “It seems to run due north,” he added after consulting his compass. “That’s right…It should be the highway to Ubal. If we continue on this we should reach that city. But...”

“But what?” asked Zantheus.

Tektes was silent for a while. Then he said “Ubal is at least two days’ travel from here...”

They were at a loss for what to do. Zantheus considered turning back and handing themselves over to the thieves again. At least if they were imprisoned they would be fed bread and water. No, he reasoned, that was not an option. After all the damage they had done, they would almost certainly be killed if they reappeared at the the thieves’ den.

“Well, we have no choice,” he said. “We may as well head north towards Ubal, unless anyone has a better idea...?”

No better idea was offered so they began their trek up the road. Nobody said anything for a long time. They were all afraid of slowly starving to death. They willed for something to appear on the road.

After some time, when it did, they all thought it must be a mirage. It was only when Anthē asked “What’s that?” that they realised it was something that they could all see. There was a shape a way ahead of them, getting closer. Soon it became clear that it was a cart. No, a carriage. A carriage drawn by two horses with beautiful mahogany coats, trundling slowly towards them. It was loaded up with a large amount of timber and driven by a single figure, raised up on a seat above the horses. Now they could see it was a man, quite short, simply dressed in a tunic, and with a kind face smiling out from under messy brown locks. He was quite dark-skinned, bearded, and just on the overweight side of an average build, which suggested that he had regular access to food. He stopped in front of the travellers.

“Hello there!” the man called down from his lofty position on the cart. His accent was earthy and rural. “Are you folks alright? You look to be in a bit of a bad way!”

Zantheus, out in front, acted as the spokesperson of the group. “Yes we are, sir.” His voice was unusually feeble. “We are travellers bound for Qereth. We were waylaid by bandits in Sadeh a day ago, but were able to escape from them. We have not eaten in a day and we are starving.”

“Goodness me!” said the carriage driver. He jumped down from his seat at once. “That’s terrible! I’m amazed you got this far and all!” He took a flask of water from a pocket and handed it to Zantheus, who got down from his horse. The cool liquid washed down his throat.

“Ahh, thank you,” Zantheus gasped. He was overjoyed to have found someone who was willing to help them. All the time the stranger attended to their needs, Zantheus never once stopped saying “Thank you.”

Tromo, Anthē and Tektes dismounted. The flask was passed around. Anthē was swaying and had turned very pale.

“Dear me miss, you don’t look well,” said the stranger. “Here, I have some salted beef in the back I was taking home to my wife for dinner. She won’t mind if I share it. I’ll have a feast cooked up for you in no time.”

“Thank you,” said Zantheus, for about the fourth time. He was overwhelmed by the man’s generosity.

“Not at all, not at all,” said the stranger. “It’s the least I can do.” He went back to his seat and lifted it to get at a compartment underneath, from which he extracted another flask, some firewood, a pot and pan, and, best of all, the food.

“May we ask your name, kind stranger?” said Tektes.

“You can call me Cheros,” said the stranger. “Now, you all come and sit inside my carriage while I sort you out with a meal. It’s nice and comfy inside. Your horses can graze here, they look hungry. Funny thing, you know, I’ve already picked up one wanderer today, you’re not the first...”

Just as he was about to say “Thank you” again, a possibility entered Zantheus’s head. He walked round to the side of the carriage, accepting Cheros’s invitation, opened the door, and looked inside.

“Hello Zantheus,” said Leukos.

Zantheus stepped back outside the carriage and shut the door.

“Who’s in there?” Anthē asked.

“Guess,” said Zantheus, with uncommon edge.

“It isn’t...?”

“Yes. It is.”

Anthē staggered up to the carriage and got in herself.

“Do you know him, then?” asked Cheros.

“Yes,” said Zantheus. He could hear the exclamations of greeting from inside the carriage.

“Aren’t you coming inside?” asked Tektes.

“No. I do not wish to speak with him at this moment in time. I will stay out here and help Cheros prepare the meal.”

“Suit yourself,” said Tektes. He went inside the carriage with Tromo.

“I’ll be glad of the help,” said Cheros. “What did you say your name was?”

“Zantheus.”

“Ok then, Zantheus, would you mind helping me get this fire going?”

Zantheus arranged Cheros’s kindling and logs and then struck his flint until the sparks came to life. They began to boil some water for the vegetables and started to cook the meat. Zantheus’s mouth started to water. They sat in silence and watched it cook, and Zantheus mulled over the sudden reappearance of his guide. Eventually Cheros said “Right, you can tell the others it’s time to eat.”

Zantheus went and opened the carriage door.

“Food is ready,” he said unemotionally.

“Yes! At last!” said Anthē. He caught her as she basically fell out of the door.

“Careful, Anthē.”

Soon they were all sat round the cooking fire and munching greedily. There was only one plate and set of cutlery, so they ate with their hands, digging their fingers into the bowl of vegetables and tearing off handfuls of the meat. As they ate their strength gradually returned, and so did their manners. Up until now they had only had one real concern with which to occupy themselves: their survival. Now that that was no longer under any immediate threat, they started to chat amongst themselves, and even greeted one another properly. They traded stories about how they had all come to where they were now. Zantheus and Anthē told of their stay in the Academy with Tromo. Tektes told of how he had been a scholar at the Academy, but was captured by bandits on the same day he finished building his last project –their hideout, originally designed as an outpost for studying the wildlife of Sadeh. Cheros told of how he was a traveling boatmerchant, on the way back from buying timber in Ubal to his family’s cottage on the bank of the river Hiddekel.

“It was a good thing that I found you when I did!” said Cheros. “You folk have had a nasty turn or two. You’re lucky that I was passing when I was!”

At this point, Anthē, who was feeling a lot better for food and water, decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Yes, and isn’t it amazing, Zantheus, how we ran into Leukos again? It’s so lucky that Cheros had picked him up as well!”

All eyes now turned on Leukos, who had his own eyes on his writing, which he attended to while balancing it on his right thigh while sitting cross-legged and eating his food with his free hand. He had not said anything yet. Zantheus made a point of not answering Anthē’s question.

After a while the silence became too much to bear, so Tektes asked “How did you four meet one another, then?”

Leukos looked up. “I found Zantheus after he washed up on a beach. I am a solitary traveller, but I offered to show him the way to Qereth. I appreciate the company. We picked up Anthē and Tromo later and were travelling together.”

“I see,” said Tektes. “How did you avoid being captured by the bandits?”

Zantheus’s ears pricked up at this.

Leukos hesitated. “It’s...it’s...embarrassing. I don’t really want to say.”

“Come on Leukos,” said Anthē, “tell us!”

“I…I was asleep.”

“Asleep!” said Zantheus, a bit louder than he needed to. “Since when have you ever needed sleep? Neither Anthē nor I have ever once seen you asleep, why should you choose that as the one night to go to sleep before us? You were awake, writing, as usual, I know it!” His temper was running high.

“I’m sorry,” said Leukos. “I was asleep.”

Zantheus was angry. “You are lying. I called out for you, but you did not respond.”

“You must not have called loudly enough,” said Leukos.

“I shouted at the top of my voice! You ran away, Leukos, do not think I do not know that. You abandoned us! And not for the first time either. You are a coward, Leukos.”

“Zantheus!” said Anthē. “Don’t talk to him like that! If he says he was asleep, I believe him.”

The atmosphere became awkward. Tektes and Cheros looked at one another and raised their eyebrows. Cheros intervened before the argument could get any more heated. “Look, you’re all very tired, most of you have just been through some awful trouble, it sounds like. Let’s just be thankful you’re all here, eh? Now, if you’re finished with lunch, I should be moving on. I don’t want to be home too late...”