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“The Braided River?” She pointed to blank areas. “And then Colcium is east?”

“Colcium is east.”

“You spit on Colcium,” she reminded him.

“I didn’t know I was spitting on Colcium.” He didn’t even know what spitting on Colcium meant, but it seemed best to play along. “And besides, we’re still going to Colcium. We’re just going to get there faster. Which I thought was in both our interests.”

“Now you know. You spit? You swear?”

Eavus half-heartedly spit into the leaves at his feet. “I’ll take you to Colcium.”

A wind stirred the back of his neck. Eavus shivered it off and pushed east. He was more conscious of their movements now, but what could he do? He tried to avoid obvious tells, like planting his foot in mud, but sometimes mud appeared before he realized, and a big hob-nailed footprint would squelch and release. The combination of speed and stealth was too much—he had to choose. They paused when they could, to refill their water or drink it, to listen, but speed seemed more important. He had moments of gratitude, for Revni’s intensity beside him, for the dried fish in their basket, the biscuits stuffed with sour red berries, but still—Eavus wanted his cuirass, his shield, his tent party. The comforting thunder of his commander’s voice. What a coward that made him, but it was true. He had never fought alone, except for scraps among the other slave boys, wrestling with other soldiers for a crowd. But that wasn’t alone.

The terrain had changed over the day—more bushes, far more rocks. The sun hadn’t yet lowered but the temperature had begun to dip, when Revni paused, almost imperceptibly.

“Do you hear that?” She picked up her pace.

Eavus’ heart hammered in his chest.

He did.

Voices—a call and response. He cursed the small amount of Caerdeneii he knew—just enough to recognize the language, not enough to truly understand.

“It’s Caerdeneii.”

Eavus eyed the massive stone slabs that jutted into the sky or dropped off in sheer slices. Would there be caves, maybe? Somewhere they could hide? But then what?

An urgent tug pulled him around. “Not the voices.” Revni had her ax drawn, dragging his cape with her. “The river.”

He strained his ears and heard a distant thundering. How far from it were they?

A shout—someone had found something. Another shout, from behind them—far enough away, but not far enough at all.

Eavus gave up any semblance of stealth. He broke into a hard run, pounding towards the noise of water, barely registering Revni beside him. There was no clear path, but there were jagged breaks between the rising stones, slips where you could put a foot, a hand, keep going. Eavus’ breath was tight in his chest. He stubbed his shin, but barely felt it as he forced himself higher.

“He’s gaining.”

Eavus glanced behind. They’d gotten enough elevation that he could see a fair distance—and Revni was right. A man flitted through the dappled light. Eavus’ heart fell into his stomach. The man had seen him—how he knew that he couldn’t say, except for the tilt of light that was a lifted chin, the dull echo of a shout.

Revni’s curse spun him towards her, but he couldn’t make out words. The water was too loud. He climbed to meet her and then his insides went suddenly hollow, like they’d been scooped out. Revni shouted confirmation:

“There’s no way across!”

Beneath them, the river crashed and pounded in a series of cascades that slammed to a steep base far below. They were on an outcropping, a thick slab that shot them over the river like the loading plank of a ship. They both whirled, searching.

“There!” Revni pointed, but Eavus saw the fallen tree at the same time and was already moving. Down the way they’d come up, then parallel to the river and back uphill. There were boulders; there were bushes and trees. They couldn’t do anything until they got above the cascades.

Another shout—closer. Someone had seen them. Two someones, it sounded like, based on the feet crashing through the underbrush. The basket thwacked heavily against Revni’s back in front of him. She weaved to the right, but Eavus scaled the rock, scrambling up to the hard-packed dirt above. The sword at his hip gave a jarring clang against stone as he veered. His vision narrowed to the few feet in front of him, the trees and elevation hemming him in to no other view but up, up. And then down, scrambling, too fast, a sudden panicked lightness as his feet slipped, a small clattering of unloosed rock shaking his footing further. He windmilled, caught himself.

“Turn your foot sideways.” Revni passed him at a lumbering run, one foot crossing in front of the other. He imitated, feeling more sure, twisted through the next thin opening. He passed her on the next rise, but when he turned to help again his eyes went past her.

“Behind!”

Eavus threw himself down as Revni heaved with her ax—not to the Caerdeneii man at the crest behind them, but at the high boulder to her right. She caught the lip of rock, swinging her body to the side just as the spear hit where she had been with a thwack. The spear rattled as it tumbled down. Eavus leaped to his feet.

“Eavus!”

He ignored her, eyes on the spear shaft only a few feet away. He scrambled to pluck it up, hesitated only a moment to narrow his focus. The man was running, up and down the rocks like the terrain was intimately familiar. At the next up, Eavus threw, the familiar pull in his shoulder, the beat of blood in his veins, washing him with a sudden calm.