Orhad people were well known plunderers. Especially now when Equerds were into conquering the Kingdoms of Hadgard. Everything fell prey to them, horses, cattle, however, the merchant caravans were their best target. The captive were sold in Hyperion, in a town a few kilometers from the borders of Hadgard. Moros felt a kind of joy from this situation. He will ultimately only change the owner, but it will be a radical change for his owners - the merchants.
The Orchads carried out the attack effectively, taking care of low casualties. The merchandise was literally worth its weight in gold. Moros saw little of the whole event, taking advantage of the confusion and commotion, he hid in the tall grass and crawled towards the swamps, every now and then correcting the bow that was oppressing him. He kept whispering prayers to Ualas, the goddesses of destiny. Nobody reported his escape, nobody probably knew that he was not among the captured ones. It was his chance, a chance for freedom. The grass slowly gave way to more muddy ground, crawling in such conditions was no longer possible. Moros carefully raised his head and on all fours and then bent over he sought refuge in the marsh thickets. He wanted to wait out the attack not far from the shore. He crouched behind the marshy grass and waited ankle-deep in the mud. The position was more than uncomfortable. What's worse, the swamp vermin gave him a really hard time. The hustle and bustle of the struggle could still be heard the merchants have been resisting for quite a long time. The sun was high in the sky when everything stopped. Moros felt safe, slowly straightened up and decided to get out of the swamp. He took two hesitant steps when suddenly he saw the puzzled face of a young Orchad. He was standing at the edge of the marshes, apparently taking a piss when he saw a figure smeared with mud.
Moros panicked before Orchad could make any move, the slave rushed madly deep into the swamps. His legs sank into the mud, soon there was no question of running, Moros clung to the branches and grass and continued moving on.
***
Setia was awakened by the steady drumming of raindrops on the roof of the cabin. Slowly she tried to lift herself out of the bed. She must be careful, she remembered perfectly well the last time she sat down, she had run out of air. The body got used to the lying posture and the head was throbbing with sharp pain. As she sat down, she felt the first wave of pain in her chest, followed by another on the left side of her head, calmly concentrating on breathing. The pain eased. Slowly, she carefully looked around the cabin. It was empty. The bed she slept on was in the left corner of the room. From where she was sitting, you could clearly see the door and the small window through which came a little light . To the right was a hewn wooden table and two benches. Right behind them was the hearth over which a large cauldron hung on a chain. There was a strange smell in the room, a mixture of smoke and herbs and something else. She tried to identify the smell, it reminded her of something wet and putrid. She decided to get up. Leaning her hand on the headboard, she rose uncertainly to an upright position. She felt strange, the pain in her right leg was nothing compared to the limited field of view. It was a new sensation. She limped over to the door and tried to open it. They gave way with a soft creak.
The rain was falling incessantly creating a gray veil that enveloped everything that surrounded the hut. Only now did she notice that it was standing on a wooden structure consisting of piles and that there was water underneath it. A boat was tied to the side of the stake, and it was now swaying, taking in the water dangerously. There was a small platform leading to it, ending with a ladder descending to the boat itself. The whole hut was surrounded by huge trees whose branches hung low, touching the water surface. In the rain, the whole thing was even gloomier. She closed the door. Slowly limping back to the bed, she was tired. It's funny how a few steps can finish one off. She touched the bandage on her left eye with her fingertips. She could feel some leaves, probably medicinal herbs. She wondered how extensive the wound was. She imagined the hole left by losing an eye. A big, empty, gaping black hole. She felt tears streaming from her right eye. Her face will never be pretty again. Time stood still. She wondered about her location, commander of the nonexistent mercenary squad. She had no one. She lost all her faithful companions and even her precious sword of Catamaran steel. Her whole life so far ceased to exist. She herself was saved by the old man from the swamp. She was grateful to him. Father always said that such debts were the worst, the debt of gratitude could always be used against you. She was wondering how she could repay this debt. She had money, even a lot of money, but it would take her about a week to get there. The only thing left for her is a gold bracelet on her right wrist. Only now did she notice her ankle-shaped clothes resting with her shoes beside the bed. There was nothing missing, even in her shoe she found a short dagger, which after reflection she placed it in the gap between the mattress and the bed frame.