By Murry J

(Catch up on Chapters 1 here and Chapter 2 here.)

The remaining enemies fled down the path, but few withstood the hail of arrows, and soon the path was strewn with bodies. 

The archers on the cliff edge above him drew back, and soon a man in a golden helm stuck his head out over the escarpment. “Don’t worry, we’re on your side,” he called. His head retracted, and a few minutes later, a rope ladder dropped down off the cliff. 

Lexos climbed up and saw a cluster of tents mounted on the flat rock face atop the cliff. Men ran back and forth, carrying packages and bundles. He saw women and children with scared and tired expressions on their faces, underfed dogs tied to stakes planted in the ground, and haphazard sprawls of wagons and belongings everywhere. 

The man who had spoken to him earlier again addressed him. “Good work down there taking out their leader. You must have the best aim I’ve ever seen.” He called to another man. “Phineas!”

A small, bearded man ran up to him. “What can I do, my lord?”

“Take this boy to the doctor’s tent. Make sure he is treated quickly.”

The man nodded. “And tell the men to go down to salvage what they can from those corpses.”

Phineas nodded again. He led Lexos through a tangle of hastily constructed huts to a large tent near the edge of the camp. “The doctor will take it from here,” he said, pushing through a curtain to reveal a small room with several beds of straw strewn around. A doctor walked between the beds, bandaging wounds and giving comforting advice. Lexos lay on a bed and waited for the doctor to come to him. Phineas exited the tent, leaving Lexos lying on the bed and thinking over the events of the day. He imagined the expression on the man’s face as the knife plunged into his neck, how his horse had reared, the faces of the men he had killed. How could I have done that? He wondered. Did they have families? What would they think when they hear of me? 

The doctor walked over to him. “Hello, lad,” he said. “How did you get this wound?”

“I was trying to fight some soldiers and an archer shot me.”

“You were fighting the invaders? Are you already a soldier at your age?”

Lexos laughed. “No, I was being pursued.”

“Did you get any of them?” the doctor asked, sounding interested.

“Three, including the captain,” Lexos said. The doctor laughed.

“You believe that, lad,” he said. “Now to see this wound.” He examined the arrow and frowned. “How long have you had this?”

“About an hour,” Lexos replied. 

The doctor opened a small wooden box and pulled out a small glass bottle. He opened it and stuck his finger in, then smeared the balm on the area around the arrow. Almost immediately, Lexos felt the pain dull. His leg felt numb. The healer grasped his hands around the arrow and pulled it out. It came out quickly and without more than a small twinge of pain. The healer inspected the point, frowning. It was not barbed, but made of a strange metal that shone of its own light. He put it down carefully and pulled another vial out of the box. He poured it onto the wound. It burned where it hit Lexos’s leg, as if someone was drilling a hole through the wound. He pulled out a bandage and quickly wrapped it tightly- around Lexos’s leg. “Don’t run or put too much weight on it for a week or so, but it will heal.” 

Lexos thanked the man and rose to leave, but the man stopped him. “When did you last eat?”

Lexos, with a pang, realized that he hadn’t eaten since the morning, and the sky was already turning pale red as the sun sunk low in the sky. The man called to an attendant: “Bring this boy to Aupolos and tell him to feed him.”

The man nodded and led him out of the doctor’s tent and to a smaller tent situated on the outskirts of the makeshift camp. He entered to reveal a small tent with a rickety table and two stools. A burly man, perhaps four cubits tall, sat in one of the stools, polishing a sword. He turned when they entered. “Who is this, Kyros?”

“I do not know,” the man replied. “Tharos told me to bring you to him to be fed.” The man grunted acceptingly, and the man whom he had heard called Kyros departed. The large man stopped his work and fetched Lexos three slices of dry bread and a bunch of grapes from a large sack. He then resumed his polishing. When Lexos had finished eating, a man poked his head through the door. He was wearing a dented but rust-free bronze helm. “Alarios wishes to see you.”
Lexos arose and followed the man to a tent that was larger than most of the others. The man he had seen earlier stood waiting inside. “Greetings, I am Alarios,” he said. He had a bandage wrapped around his arm, and he carried a sword with a rusty blade. He wore a golden helm and leather armor. He addressed Lexos again. “I lead the few who escaped from the invaders. The rest were killed or imprisoned. I served as a swordsman in the king’s army for a few years when I was young, so they chose me as their captain. What is your name, lad?” 

“I am Lexos,” he replied.

The man looked at him. “So young, so young,” he muttered. Then, he stood. “We must take back the city. We need to strategize. You there gave us a good opportunity, drawing a whole company of soldiers to us, but it wasn’t enough. We don’t have enough troops for a full frontal assault, so we must use different tactics.”

Suddenly, he heard a horn blow. The captain cursed, drawing his sword. He rushed out of the tent. Lexos followed, only to see men in armor climbing the cliff on ropes and ladders and leaping towards him.