Episode 9
He started moving that direction, crouched, and reached for the arrow. He almost had it, only inches away, and then his hands stopped moving. He was at the end of his rope.
Three inches, but it might as well have been a mile. He crawled back to his wagon, cursing how exposed he was in the open, and wracked his brain for a solution.
The wheels were locked in place during nights to keep them from rolling on unleveled ground. He moved to the rear axle and searched for the locking mechanism. If he got the wheels loose, he might be able to drag the wagon enough to retrieve the arrow.
He began fiddling with the locking pin. It popped loose and he crawled to the other wheel. There was another cry nearby, much closer, and he heard a sickening thump as something heavy hit the ground. He focused and began working on the axle.
More cries and he saw light enter his area. The area was getting quieter as sounds of battle went away. Torches. He worked frantically, in a panic now, but the second axle was stuck. He couldn’t work the pin loose.
He was breathing heavily and sweating, and it took him a moment to notice that the sound of fighting had dissipated. Everything was quiet. He stopped struggling with the axle and slid into the shadows under the wagon, regulating his breathing and heart rate as best he could.
Not that it did any good. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. He was terrified, and he couldn’t stop panting. And worse than anything, he needed to pee.
Which side won? He heard horses neighing in the distance, followed by the trampling of hooves into the darkness. They had just released the guards’ horses into the night.
The guards didn’t win.
Gregory gulped. Not bandits, then. Bandits would never send valuable horses away. No, this was something entirely different.
He huddled beneath the wagon and saw legs come toward him. They were clothed in animal hides and furs. Gregory tried to stay out of sight, ducked beneath the front edge of his wagon. Another pair of legs joined the first, and he heard murmuring. He didn’t recognize the language.
Gregory shifted slightly, hands out in front of him, and stretched at the end of his rope. If only he had reached the arrow, he could have disappeared into the night. He forced himself to remain silent, watching and trying to stay calm. A long minute passed.
Maybe they wouldn’t find him after all.
Gregory felt the rope jerk and stumbled forward onto his face. He hit the ground with a loud thud and groaned in pain as his stomach collided with dirt.
The thud was followed by a sharp command in another language; he didn’t understand the word, but he knew the tone. So much for hope he might go unnoticed. He felt the rope pulling him and was forced to crawl out from under the wagon.
He was roughly forced to his feet and came face to face with a man of angular features and cold eyes. The man and his companion were wearing a mix of hide armor and pelts covering half of their bodies and all their vital organs. Not bandits for sure, but military in their demeanor. These were soldiers.
The man said something Gregory didn’t understand, and he could only shake his head in confusion. The man exchanged a glance with his companion and spoke again in the common tongue.
“Who are you?”
“Nobody,” he replied.
“No soldier?” the man said awkwardly.
Gregory shook his head adamantly. The man stared at him, and then looked at his bindings. “Prisoner?”
Gregory nodded. “Yes.”
“Friend?”
“Yes. Friend.”
The man seemed hesitant, and then cut the rope connecting Gregory to the wagon.
