Final Campaign

reached theedge of the camp, where the Thracians had made a clearlyhalf-hearted attempt to clear out the underbrush to make room fortheir tents. They had selected a natural clearing, yet like allsuch areas, there were still clumps of bushes and grass. These hadeither been chopped down or pulled up, but then had just beenthrown carelessly aside. Fortunately, this provided a bit of cover,since it was natural for the discarded growth to be thrown into apile, so we used each pile to conceal our movement deeper into thecamp. Just when I was about to move from one pile to the next,there was another sound, this one to my right on the other side ofthe heap that I was crouching behind. Another tent flap was thrownopen, then I heard a low moan, followed by the shuffling sound of aThracian stumbling across the broken ground. I craned my neck tosee if I could see Columella, or the other two men, and I washorrified when I spotted one of their inert forms, lying in theopen where they had been in the process of moving to the pile I wascurrently occupying. Obviously anticipating my movement, they hadbegun to change their own position, except now they were forced tofling themselves flat on the ground, spreading out their bulk totry and make themselves as close to invisible as possible. Thethought flashed through my head that this would have been theperfect time for Gyges’ ring, but of course, no such thing exists.Instead, we had to rely on the Thracian not being observant, and inthis we were lucky, the man stumbling past Columella first, or whoI presumed to be Columella, then the others into the darkness. Thereason for his inattention became apparent a moment later whenthere was the explosive sound of a man in the clutches of dysenteryor some sort of flux, followed closely by the foul odor of hisbowels releasing their contents. The Thracian gave a sigh of reliefthat was clearly audible, followed by the rustling sound of hispulling up the trousers that they favored. A moment later, theThracian came back, walking a bit more steadily this time, excepthis path was taking him just a couple of paces away from Columella.Humming some tune, the man was almost past Columella when hestopped suddenly, the next note of the tune freezing in his throat.I could barely discern the movement of his head, his eye catchingthe dark form lying on the ground, just a pace away.

There are moments in time that seem to movelike fast-flowing water, and others like honey on a cold day. Thatmoment, with the Thracian turning to peer down at Columella was oneof the latter moments, because it seemed to take forever for hishead to pivot fully so he could look downward. I could see his headtilt as the Thracian, clearly puzzled at what was on the groundnext to him, stared at the dark bulk. Kill him, I silently urgedthe inert figure I was sure had to be Columella, yet he did notmove a muscle. That was when I realized what was happening, andknew that it had to be me to act. Columella had undoubtedly seenthe Thracian walk past him, smelled what he was doing, but hadturned his face away. One of the first things we learned aboutoperating at night was that for some reason, a man can sense whenhe is being watched, especially in the dark, so we were trained toavoid any possibility of making eye contact. Columella had turnedhis face away; essentially this Thracian was behind his back, andColumella had no way of knowing that the man was lifting a foot togive him a tentative kick. When I was young, I was extremely quickfor a large man, thanks to the training regimen from Cyclops backwhen Vibius and I had decided that life in the Legions was for us.The wear and tear of the numerous wounds, along with the passage oftime, had eroded a great deal of that quickness, yet I do notbelieve that at any time in my life to that point did I move morequickly than I did that night, or at least so it seemed. TheThracian’s foot was still hovering above Columella’s body by thetime I had risen, crossing the three or four paces while drawing mydagger, my free hand reaching out to clamp my hand over the bottomhalf of the man’s face, squeezing with all of my strength. It waslight enough to see his eyes widen in shock when I punched thepoint of my dagger up under his ribcage, driving the point upwardin an attempt to pierce his heart. I felt my fist, just past thehandguard, strike the man’s body with enough force that if I hadbeen unarmed, I would have knocked the breath from him. A low moanescaped from his mouth, and my dagger hand quivered from thevibration of his body spasming with the sudden pain upon my thrust.One of his hands grabbed at mine, which was clamped around hismouth, with a desperate strength that lasted for only a matter of afew heartbeats. Then, it fell limply away, and I felt his wholebody relax, starting to fall away from me. Using the dagger as away to keep control of him, I lowered his body softly to theground. I could feel the warmth and stickiness splash over my handwhen I withdrew the blade, quickly wiping it on his tunic, theman’s now sightless eyes catching the reflections of the nearbytorches.

The man on the ground was indeed Columella,who had just turned his head around, letting out a soft gasp whenhe saw the body lying right next to him. Putting a finger to mylips, I beckoned him to continue following me as I made my way backto the pile that I had been behind, and I moved quietly to the nextpile, trying to ignore the quickly drying blood coating my hand,knowing that it would make my grip on my dagger or sword tacky if Ihad to use them again. The tent I had selected was now just a dozenpaces away, but time was running short,