It seemed like a full watch passed before Ireached the outer edge of the torchlight, then took the first fewsteps into the darkness, feeling the relief washing over me. Onlythen did I turn to see that Columella was just behind me, holdingone end of the other Thracian, with the third Evocati holding theother, the last man just a few paces behind him. One by one, theyjoined me until we were all outside the light. I had taken theopportunity to rest, dropping the man down on the ground, stillunconscious but breathing, and I suppressed a curse, thinking thatthis had been a very bad idea, but picked the man up again,flinging him back over my shoulder so his head hung behind my back,then turned to begin the walk back to our camp. I do not believe Ihad gone a dozen paces when I finally found that sentry, because Istepped right on him.
Fear is a funny thing. It is an almostconstant companion to a Legionary on campaign, and is somethingthat we try to keep from enveloping our soul, turning us intouseless blobs of jelly, unable to do our jobs, save our comrades,or ourselves. But it can also be useful, giving us qualities wenever knew we possessed, endowing us with feet as swift as Hermes’,or strength as great as Hercules’. I had been struggling with theload of the unconscious Thracian over my shoulder, my legs achingand quivering from the strain, my lungs feeling like they wereabout to burst. However, when my hobnailed boot stepped down on thesleeping Thracian sentry, who quite naturally let out a howl ofpain as not just my own weight, but what I was carrying came downon him, my fatigue vanished. The Thracian on the ground, still notfully awake, was trying to get to his feet nevertheless, his suddenmovement causing me to lose my balance. I fell heavily, my burdenhitting the ground like a full sack of grain next to me, emitting agroan of pain despite still being unconscious. I was stunned, yetthe fear coursing through me gave me a second wind. Knowing that ifthis sentry had his wits about him, or was even somewhat anexperienced warrior, my life could be measured by a span ofheartbeats, I got to my feet very quickly. It was like the yearsand toil that had worn my body down had magically been lifted frommy shoulders and, for the second time that night, I was once againendowed with the quickness of my youth. However, the sentry wasalso on his feet at this point. Despite still being disoriented andtrying to understand what was happening, his initial reflex, likeall warriors, was to reach for his curved Thracian sword at hisside, instead of trying to reach down to grope for his spear on theground. I was not sure how loudly he had shouted when I stepped onhim, knowing that while it had sounded like a blast of abucina to my ears, it might not have carried that far. Ialso knew that I had to stop him before he filled his lungs to letout a cry that would undoubtedly alert the sleeping camp. All thatI have described to this point happened so quickly that Columellaand the others had frozen in their tracks and had yet to move,still trying to determine exactly what was going on. In the gloom,I could only make out the outline of the Thracian, visible only asa slightly blacker shape than the surrounding night, and I sensedmore than saw that he was crouched, except it was impossible totell in what direction he was facing. I crossed the space betweenus in two quick strides, my right hand reaching over to draw mysword, which was protruding over my left shoulder, my mindregistering with some surprise that unlike what seemed like daysbefore, but had been much less than a full watch, I had absolutelyno difficulty reaching my blade. I heard the comforting rasp of theblade sliding from the scabbard; so did the Thracian, and withreflexes that would have done a cat proud, he leapt to the side, asmuch away from the noise as from me. His movement told me that hehad indeed not been facing me, but with his sideways jump, I had toassume that he had twisted to face the noise. Trying to close thegap he had opened, I took another step, stopping suddenly at thesound of his own weapon being drawn. Thinking back, I probablyshould have taken advantage of the speed that my burst of fear hadendowed me with to continue to close with the Thracian, counting onthat quickness to prevent him from fully drawing the weapon.However, I did not, and it cost us dearly. In that fraction of amoment, I clearly heard the man open his mouth to suck air into hislungs. Knowing what he was about to do, I made a desperate lunge,sticking my arm out straight and rigid, taking a much larger stepforward than we had been trained to do. My aim was true, yet I wasstill too late, the man bellowing what was clearly the alarm in hisown language, despite at the same instant feeling the point of mysword punch into his body. The noise from his yell was deafening;this time I knew that it was not my imagination, because I heardColumella and the others, still standing waiting for me to removethe sentry, curse bitterly at the sound. The Thracian’s alarm wascut off once my blade cut through him, yet it was sufficiently longand loud enough to raise an answering shout from behind us in theThracian camp. I felt his body collapse, pulling my arm down andforcing me to take a step closer as I bent down to twist my bladefree. I am still not sure how I sensed it, but at the last instant,I twisted my body to the side just as the Thracian, dying butclearly not
