The caravan rolls almost 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 clamor.
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 trembling in 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.
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 the fight has not yet been won. My troop leaps from their perches in the trees, beginning the battle without me. I have given my orders.
And I only need a moment.
I jump from the tree and close my eyes, rolling my shoulders. I take a deep breath. The sounds of the battle slowly distort and everything fades to black.
Arm daggers. Two for each of us. Soldier nearest has a crossbow. Toss knife at hand. Arrow misses...flies into the air. Kick crossbow aside. Elbow its face. Hands raise to block me; its chest is unprotected.
Smirk. I am owed another.
One runs past. Catch it; hold it tight. Do not let it escape. It is strong; I am clever. Jump on its back. Twist it to the ground. Aim daggers down. Fall.
