Chapter 14

Moros was hungry, tired and completely lost. He dreamed of roast pork, a fire, dry clothes, hot sheets, and a roof over his head. He even caught himself thinking that it was better to continue to be a slave than to wander about the marshes like this. He was wandering, he realized it only after he'd sailed past that black rotting tree three times.

For days he had eaten the raw flesh of carrion birds, drank dirty water, and regularly plucked greasy leeches from his legs. He marveled how much blood he had left inside his body. His stomach ached and he struggled to hold on to the hollow log he used as a boat, pushing himself off with a long branch. It was bad with him, he knew it, he felt that he had a fever, but some inner defiance made him swim on this damn piece of wood further, just a little bit more. He didn't want to die in this damn place.

He was stupefied and made his movements mechanically, for a moment he even thought he heard human voices. Was he becoming delirious? Great, the end seems to be near. There were several voices, specifically two - a woman and a man. They were talking loudly, arguing. Slowly it dawned on Moros that there was a good chance he wasn't delirious. With redoubled energy, he moved in the direction from which the blessed sounds of quarrels were coming from.

" I'll say it again, I didn't steal your map to find the temple, it was an accident. I wanted to go home." The woman was standing in front of an elderly man in a habit holding a tight bow, next to him was a shrunken figure with overlong arms. The girl was wearing an eye patch and was defenseless.

"Give back the amulet, you thief." The man's voice was filled with hatred. The girl raised her hands up and slowly took some trinket from her neck.

"Here," he said, and she tossed it at his feet

The man greedily looked at the object but didn't move.

"Still, you must die, no one can know anything about this place." The monk raised the bow to his eyes, Moros did not hesitate for a moment, in one smooth movement he drew the bowstring and shot straight at the nervous old man.

Setia stood motionless, madness lurked in Nagor's eyes. She was angry with herself, as she had lost her vigilance. The discovery blinded her. Now she will have to pay for it with her life.

"Nagor, there was still a scroll inside with information about entering Hosard..." She paused, hoping to gain time. Nagor hesitated as an arrow flew in and hit him accurately in the left shoulder. Without wasting a single second, Setia took the dagger out of her shoe and finished off the would-be savior with a quick thrust in the ribs. Morid stood paralyzed. She herself wondered if Haleon himself had just saved her.

She looked in the direction from which the salutary arrow flew, some stranger was standing in muddy water up to his thighs. Morid took advantage of this moment of inattention and, surprisingly agile for such a shrink, found himself in the boat, vigorously rowing as far as possible from the place of his master's murder. Morid was no longer a threat, she focused all her attention on the stranger. He still held the bow, though not tense, carefully looking around as he slowly approached her.

"Thank you for your help." Setia decided to speak first and at the same time she pulled out the knife from Nagor's side. If that odd man wanted to attack her, she was ready.

"Who are you and why did you help me?"

"I'm Moros, and I thought you were in trouble. Two men ataking one woman …" He paused. Setia watched him. He was dirty with torn clothes. She couldn't tell his age, the mud on his face and the numerous bite marks made his age hard to guess, but he was young. He must have been around 20, which was about her age. His hair was shoulder length and seemed to be light brown. The eyes were interesting, a mixture of green and amber.

"What do you want?" She asked directly

"I got lost in the swamps, I've been wandering here for many, many days."

"I will help you, in return for saving my life." Setia smiled and slipped the knife into her sleeve. A mercenary must always be ready, her father used to say that because a mercenary can only count on one's own powers. She must never forget that rule again.

She approached the amulet lying next to Nagor's body, she cleaned it off the dirt and put it around her neck. Moros came out of the water, put the bow over his shoulder and then he pulled the arrow out of the corpse.

"It may still be useful." Her savior explained

"Who was he and why did he want to kill you?" He inquired looking at the dead monk.

"His name was Nagor, he saved my life." Setia looked Moros straight in the eyes

"I'm starting to wonder if I did the right thing, do you always kill your saviors?" Saying this, Moros stepped back.

"Not always, only once a year, so you're safe." She smiled. "Nagor was mad. This possessed him," She said, picking up the red stone pendant.

"This pendant ... is it so valuable?" Moros sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes and no, for him," she said, pointing to the dead old man, "it was worth everything."

"It doesn't look like anything special," Said the young man, staring at the amulet.

"Neither do you, and yet you saved my life. Who knows, maybe one day this dragon will save my life too. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the site or my bladder will burst. Make a fire, there are some pieces of wood and food in the boat. Tomorrow we will break out of these swamps."

"You want to eat here, next to the corpse?" Moros was surprised

"A dead enemy won't hurt you anymore, it's the living ones that you have to fear."

Moros, accustomed to following orders, without a single word started to make fire. The thought about fire, food and getting out of the swamp gave him superhuman strength.