A Scoundrel's Song

14

Niico peeked out of the flap to see that the guard's companion had run away. Probably to fight, or something of equal stupidity. Running was the right idea. Running fast in the opposite direction of the fighting. Niico thought that was obvious, even to soldiers, who weren't blessed with his superior intelligence. Except, the fighting seemed to have erupted at every quarter of the camp. Plucky, brave, stupid Larissans staging a sneak attack.

Back in the tent, he avoided the sword now in Akafa's hands and tried to think. They needed their wagon, if only because Niico hated walking and had never quite got the hang of riding. Pel took his place at the tent flap, while Antioni checked the health of the guard clobbered by Akafa, the boy leaning over and prodding the soldier.

"We have to make a plan. A brilliant plan that will get us out of here with all my limbs intact and with you lot relatively uninjured." He paced up and down screwing up his face to prove how much thought he put into it. "My part of the plan worked. Give me ideas. Antioni, you're not doing anything important, what do you think?"

"Well, I suppose, they are our people." Kneeling beside the guard, Antioni copied Niico's look of concentration, but it didn't look anywhere near as good as Niico's. "We could wait for the Larissan army to win and find us? I'm sure they'll take care of us."

Niico stared at Antioni for a moment or two before turning away.

"Anyone else? Someone with an idea that won't get us killed?" He raised his eyebrows as everyone else failed to add any intelligent thoughts. "No-one? Right, I'll just ..."

"I could fly us out!" Herit began to flap his arms, bouncing on the spot. Then, abruptly, began waving his hands in a way he probably thought looked 'mystical', but looked like a wasp had taken a fancy to him. "Or I could magic up a fog that no-one will see through. Or ..."

"Those are all really inventive and unhelpful suggestions, Herit, but, unfortunately, you can't fly or perform magic. Good job." He patted the boy on the head, even though he didn't deserve the praise. "Akafa? I'm going to assume you think we should kill anyone that gets in our way? Thought so. Pel?"

Akafa had started to speak, lifting the sword, but clamped his mouth closed again, proving that Niico knew the man better than Akafa thought he did. Fighting was all good and well when the other side had fewer fighters, none, preferably, but only Akafa had the abilities required to cause carnage as they escaped and the odds were so against them, using Akafa's brutal methods, that they may as well kill themselves now.

Pel hadn't answered. She had set foot a little outside the tent, looking around, before popping back inside. She had that look about her. The kind of look which usually preceded her persuading someone that they really did have a great-uncle Martia who wanted to talk to them from the afterlife, so long as they crossed her palm with a suitable number of coins. Niico liked that look. It meant she was using her intelligence. An intelligence not quite to Niico's level, but close enough for their purposes.

"I say we ride out." She was an idiot and Niico let her know that he thought so with a loud groan. "No, hear me out. The wagon is only twenty yards away. The horse in a paddock to the side. We keep our heads down, let Akafa butcher anyone he likes along the way, keep the child from wandering off and Antioni, too, I suppose. It's right there!"

"So, Herit, what were you saying about flying us out?" He covered the boy's mouth, realising he had no understanding of sarcasm, and shook his head toward Pel. "I think, and I say this with the very deepest love and respect that I could one day actually feel for you, that that's an intensely stupid idea. No offence."

"Well, what other ideas do you have?" Her eyes fell to the guard on the ground, who had started to groan as he regained consciousness. "Isn't anyone going to tie him up?"