Fall 9, 514
Fall had come to Kenash. The sweltering heat had slowly faded, and the smothering humidity had subsided to more manageable levels. But, it was still hot, and humid. The days of early fall had been rainy, the heat of summer had caused many storms in the area, and the swamp around the fields were slightly engorged with water. Alex had finally settled into his new home, the little on room cabin on the Bloodflower plantation. He was still fighting his itch of travel, but Kenash had many things to offer. And there were many reasons to stay, namely the lack of funding for the mercenary from Syliras.
He had started the day simply enough. A small, but hearty meal of warm breads, and hot meats, and sweet honey. The Sitai always had good meals, at least to the standards of a simple mercenary. On the road he would have been happy with hard biscuits, and dry meat and a bit of cheese. Anything to fill the void of hunger from a long day of walking, and scouting. The food in Kenash did more than sustain your body, the abundance of food, spices, garnishes, jams, and jellies, fed your soul. Were it not for this, Alex thought that he might nor have recovered in anyway from the murder of the Rujaro woman. Even the slaves ate well enough, you couldn’t have your livestock too hungry to work.
But, the slaves were really why Alex was here. They were not happy with their lot. Alex could sympathize, if his freedom was taken, he would do anything he could to regain it. While he could empathize with a slave, he didn’t understand the Rujaro. Why would they flee, only to stay in the swamp. Revenge seemed such a silly notion once you had your freedom. They were a threat to everyone in the city, and on the plantation. Occasionally, Alex would hear a whisper of an attack. Fear and terror lined the words from the Dynasts and Freeborn in the city. And on the rarest of days, Alex could hear hope from the mouths of slaves. Each family had its own private army to deal with this threat, and those forces would be brought fully to bear.
Such a thing was happening today. An errant slave fled in the night, putting his life at risk for a chance of freedom, or- as many in the Sita’s private army guessed- a chance of revenge. After eating his meal as fast as he could, Alex joined with a large group of mercenaries, bounty hunters, and guards in the search for this young man. Almost a dozen men armed to the teeth were searching the swamps south of the river that bisected plantation. They were many clues that would lead to the escaped slave. Though Alex did not know them as easily as many of the hunters and veterans of the plantation, he could spot things that were out of place in the swamp.
Alex had been searching for many bells, since the sun had first risen, and roll call of the slaves given. He had missed lunch, and it looked like he would miss dinner too. He didn’t mind, this was why he was paid after all. He would bring this slave in, if only to keep him from going off to join the foolish Rujaro. That was a mistake, and if he was brought back, he would still have his life. And that was something. Was freedom worth certain death? Alex didn’t think he could answer that. He didn’t know if he wanted to. As lost as he was in his thoughts, he smelled something out of the ordinary. Something manmade, something unmistakable. The acrid smell of smoke hung heavy, and fresh in this clearing.
Two things struck Alex at the same time. One, that he was alone, and cut off from the group. And the second was the fit body of the slave as he erupted from the undergrowth. Alex’s breath was knocked out of him, and his bow was dropped. Not that it would be useful at this range. Alex was struck again on the ground, his head stung sharply as it was struck with a chunk of warm wood. He could feel a wetness over his eyebrow, and a fierce itch as his skin was split, spilling blood. He gasped in pain, but couldn’t regain his breath.