Within, most were going to sleep yet, the three kept their robes around themselves and shuffled closely behind eachother, Berthold in the lead.. “Just beyond these few tents.. There is the slavepens.“ They hurried and tried to avoid as many as they could.. on occasion one of the men would yell at them, only to be left hanging as no answer came.. At another moment a drunk had hooked his arm around Harwari and the smell of his breath would linger in his mind for a while yet! Though.. with being forced to beat the drunk unconscious and stuff him between a few spicebarrels they yet managed to get through. Their eyes widened, for there were atleast two times the number of slaves as companions they had brought with them, some guards were among them, laughing maliciously and kicking up sand at the slaves.. It was not this though that had drawn the eyes of Tunaraz.
It had taken the three of them to hold him back from falling on the slavemasters, as his woman was whipped!.. And each wail of hers would tear him apart from the inside out. Yet one thing was certain, if they were to fall upon them now then all hope would be lost, so they clenched their teeth at seeing kin and friends, chained and beaten and set on..
It had taken them another hour.. maybe two to make a count of the easterlings within, most were fat merchants and yet plenty of them still were confident warriors by the way they strode through the narrow streets like peacocks, with curved blades at their belts. The guards themselves looked capable enough, although they were yet to sober from their drinking binges. “More drunk then elves on their feasting-days.”, Ulfrid murmured just louder than a breath.., “We can take them.” Tunaraz shook his head and looked around the biggest tent, then he carefully slit in the orange fabric and had a look within, here he saw a sort of feast of nobles.. or so it seemed. What he saw was a low table, around which many elder men sat, crosslegged on thick pillows, exchanging words and at the end of the table a fat man was sitting, with a bronze crown adorned with feathers of a bird Tunaraz could not place. Cups were exchanged and some slaves of theirs and servants brought in great bowls and pitchers made from silver by the looks of it. Tunaraz turned away and he breathed deeply, chest heaving even, “Here.. here is the filth that is responsible for the summer-raids on our lands, I recognize the depictions of dragons and knotwork on their gear, something a Daleman would have made.. or one of the tribes and villages in the east of the woods.” Harwari looked inside the tent and he whispered, “Shall we open the gate then? .. While they are unaware of the danger that lies before them?”
They snuck towards it then, .. Berthold proved to be a voice of reason as they had done away with the snoozing guardsmen, "Wait, .. shall not we be doomed then if we open the gate and shall this not be at the cost of our enslaved kin? For the gate shall not open without it being noticed.." The others shared glances and looked at him once more.. Harwari answered him, "If the gate will not, then surely these felled guards here shall give cause for panic in their dark hearts.. Our friends shall move with haste and whatever man that may come to try and seal this gate once more we shall have to fend off. The sun rises, so any heartbeat standing here is one wasted!" It was with reluctance that Berthold helped them, it seemed that nobody had noticed, but the unthinkable happened as a snake had taken it's refuge under the broad dried wood for rest, Ulfrid shrieked with panic as the thing hopped to him and bit him in his boot, frantically he hacked at the beast with his knife! .. The thing had died but the damage had been done, from everywhere voices came wondering what the yelling was all about, the four men pushed the gate wide open and Tunaraz lost no little time grabbing for a small horn that hang from his belt, he blew on it three times, by the fourth attempt the easterlings were upon them..
(continued in part 6)
