Other Snips
The sun is not even up yet as our small troop sets up on the road. I stand off to the side, breathing warm air into my cupped hands as my troop completes their assigned tasks. I tremble more from anxiety than from the cold. Aira's first command as nik'dalo; I cannot fail. What an embarrassment that would be to her! And I cannot bear to lose anyone else.
But how many soldiers am I to expect? Our troop is already thinned. Perhaps not many; it is only a resupply after all. But will a resupply not be heavily guarded? But they also do not know we are coming, certainly we will surprise them—
Feam gently rests his hand on the small of my back. Our troop is ready.
I suppose we shall see.
We sit for hours. The sun finally rises in the horizon, its beams breaking through the trees in misty streaks. I hear a distant thud and rise to a stand on the branch. The sound grows louder and more distinct. Hoofbeats.
I whistle like a Gai bird and my troop is instantly alert. I lean back and forth to better see through the foliage. There they are. A caravan of ten guarded wagons makes its way down the road. There are so many soldiers. Fifty—no less than forty—at least two soldiers for each of us. I took a deep breath and look over my troop hidden in the trees. Do we even have the strength to defend against such a large brigade?
The caravan rolls directly under me. I whistle again. Feam steps from the brush ahead, standing in the center of the dirt road. Feam is a massive man, and the soldiers are not rash. As I hoped, they quickly circle the wagons, not even noticing the four large barrels of oil we had earlier placed in each corner of the area. Feam stands with his huge hands folded calmly in front of him as he watches them run about.
The soldiers finally get in place and the captain calls out. “You there! Inzi! Do you speak Lyngarian?”
Feam shrugs. He does not speak it, but he understands it well enough. The soldiers are uncertain, and whispers run through their ranks. I press my hand against my lips, stifling my giggles. There, forty fully armed soldiers stand in shaky formation, frightened of a single Inzi man.
“Surrender, Inzi! You are outmatched!”
At this, Feam grins, making the soldiers whisper in panic. I whistle again. My archers light their arrows. One of the soldiers near the edge hears the stretch of the bows and looks up.
“Ambush!”
Feam waves as the archers send their arrows flying. With a bright flash, the four barrels simultaneously light, setting all the circled wagons and a few of the nearby soldiers ablaze. I close my eyes at the screams, but I will still have to fight. My troop leaps from their perches in the trees, beginning the battle without me. I only need a moment.
I jump from the tree and close my eyes, rolling my shoulders and breathing deeply. Let it vanish. Let the resonances of death be blocked and the sight of blood be obscured. Let it all just fade away. The echoes of the fight slowly distort and everything dissolves to black.
Arm daggers. Two for each of us. Nearest soldier has a crossbow. Toss knife at its hand. Arrow flies into air. Kick crossbow aside and elbow its face. Hands raise to block me; its chest is unprotected.
Smirk. I am owed another.
One runs past. Catch it; hold tight. Do not let it escape. It is strong; I am clever. Jump on its back and twist it to the ground. Aim daggers down. Fall.
Another.
No more to be had.
Blink twice. Again. Clear the haze.
The fire pops as I stand to my feet and rub my eyes. We certainly made quick work of the supply caravan. All soldiers are dealt with, and the supplies will soon be no more.
“Scatter their dead, but take care!” Feam yells, repeating my earlier command. “Do not drag them!”
I slowly step over the lad lying at my feet and grab the first soldier's crossbow. I need his arrows. Keeping my eyes focused ahead, I bend at his side and feel through his pouch. I take all of the crossbow bolts and load them, firing randomly into trees, the ground, or into high branches. My troop does the same. Others hold torches to the trees, charring the bark while others still walk aimlessly around in the brush. The scene looks so chaotic; the whole area is a mess.
“Report!” I call. Damé is the closest to me and latches her bow to her quiver as she approaches. Her brown cheeks are flushed pink and they seem to glow as she beams.
“Victory, Dalo!” she says, gripping my shoulder. “And we lost no one.”
I gently move her aside, trying to look past her wavy black hair blowing in the wind. “No one at all?” I see only three lying in the dirt. “You are certain?”
“For once! Those there are wounded, but not mortally. Nik’dalo will be pleased.”
I pat Damé’s shoulder. And I will make it back to the inn in time to clean up breakfast.
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