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Marsillion awoke before sunrise and packed his gear for another long day of travel. As far as he could tell the rest of the party still slept, nobody was about. After taking a bit of food, Marsillion quietly slipped away to refill his canteen and freshen himself for the day ahead. The campsite sat in a small, but dense growth of woods atop an isolated hillock. From a spring near the top of the hill a bubbling brook ran careening through a rocky course onto the far sweeping plains below.
Marsillion stooped down beside the brook and splashed the cool water on his face. He took a large mouthful and reached for his empty canteen. As he did so, his attention was caught by a light in the woods above him, not far off. The sun, although still not risen was sending a pink glow sweeping across the horizon when Marsillion began to crawl hand and foot toward the perceived light. As he drew nearer he could see that indeed a small fire was burning a short distance off, and he thought he could make out the silhouette of a man sitting back to him. Marsillion crept closer, until he was only a few yards distant, tucked quietly behind a tangled bush of thorns. From this position he could clearly see three men sitting around a small watch fire and one dozing on the ground not far off. The men were unmistakable. Here, camped on the same hill as the rescue party, was the patrol of Kings Men that had confronted them the previous morning. Marsillion felt his stomach clinch in knots, his arms and legs falling simultaneously numb as he picked up the conversation around the camp fire.
“I suppose they think they are mighty clever. Why don't we just shoot 'em now and be done with it,” demanded a young soldier. “I've a quiver full of good arrows, the traitors would never know what hit 'em.”
“Because, you ignorant louse,” barked the captain, “our commander has a better fate planned for them. They are to be allowed unhindered to the capitol. The high priest knows of their journey. They will not succeed. Our mission is simply to follow at a distance, not to interfere. One of them has something the High Priest desires I think.”
Marsillion had heard enough. Willing himself to move he slowly inched back down the slope. I must get back to camp before the sun betrays me, was all he would allow himself to think about. When he reached the spot where he had bathed himself earlier, he stood and ran clumsily through the woods the short distance back to camp. He gathered the party, which by this time was fully awake and awaiting his return, hastily around and told of what he had learned. “A new plan must be constructed,” Marsillion stated plainly, pinioning his overwhelming emotions deep within. “The lives of many hang in the balance.”
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