Episode 8
When he first heard the sound, he passed it off as wind rustling through the trees. It was like a soft whooshing in the air above him, and he only asserted importance to it when he heard cries from off the right side of camp.
Did he fall asleep? Was this a dream? Gregory sat up quickly, and then dropped again as he heard the canopy of his wagon rip above his head. Something tore through one side of the cloth and passed out the other with only a flicker. An arrow.
Another cry split the air.
“Form up!” the Captain hollered in the camp. Gregory silently applauded the man for his quick response, but he was certain that it would be too late to get out of this battle unscathed. Whoever was attacking the camp was close enough to fire arrows. Still, it was only seconds after the attack began and already he was prepping his soldiers to fight.
Gregory crawled along the bottom of his wagon, trying to get as close to the back edge as possible. His back sat above the wooden sides and a few inches were exposed, but it would offer more protection than he had currently.
He allowed himself to admit how scared, confused, and out of sorts he was. He heard more shouts and screams, followed by the clash of metal as the soldiers engaged their attackers. Gregory had been in fights before, but this was something worse. Something far more chaotic.
He wracked his brain for a way out of this situation. Bandits were the most likely culprit, launching a nighttime raid. Nighttime or not, he held no illusions about who would win. This was a caravan of the kingdom’s finest soldiers: no bandit group stood a chance. Whoever was attacking would soon understand that they had greatly misjudged their enemy.
But maybe this would be a perfect opportunity to escape. Gregory worked his way to the back of the wagon, ignoring the arrows slicing through the canopy as best he could, and perched near the edge. He glanced at the bulky knot tying him to the wagon and shook his head. Not a chance he could unravel it in time. No, he would have to cut himself free.
He could hear screaming, cursing, and the clash of metal nearby. The battle was intensifying.
He leaned out the back of wagon, the tinniest bit, and tried to see inside the soldiers’ camp. From his angle, he couldn’t spot any fighting, but he could hear it. Less than thirty feet away, he estimated with a shudder.
If he was going to have any chance of survival, he would need something sharp. A rock might even do the trick if it had an edge. With a deep breath and an appeal for courage, he slid out of the wagon and to the ground, ducking as low as possible and crawling underneath its belly. The light in this section of camp was inconsistent, and he was certain that he wouldn’t be spotted in the shadows. He began searching.
No rocks. The road was clean.
The sound of battle picked up even more. It surrounded him completely now, which surprised Gregory. The soldiers were being pushed back in his direction, which wasn’t what he expected. Well trained bandits? Could they possibly win out over the soldiers, and even if they did, would that put Gregory in a better situation than his current one?
No, better to escape than hope for any particular outcome. A scream came from his left, and he tried to ignore it as he broadened his search. After a few seconds, he spotted something useful: one arrow had lodged itself into the wooden lip of the wagon in front of him in the semi-circle instead of ripping through the canopy.
