“Boss man, I think we have a guest.”

“Oh, do we Julli? Demos, check on it.”

“Of course my liege.” Argo stilled his breathing and stopped moving. He could feel his heart hammering inside of his chest, almost as if it wanted to be heard. “It does seem as if we have a rat scurrying around here. Behind that tree over there Julli.”

“I trust I can leave handling him to you three then?” Argo gripped the bark of the tree, his fingers straining white from force. He had been caught.

“Of course boss man-”

“Call him by his title.”

“Oh shove it up your ass Demos. Yes my lord we can handle it.” The carriage came to a halt as the men riding the horse leapt off of it. “On me!” He called out as he pulled a sword from his hip. He held it in front of him in a defensive position as the two horse riders came to guard them.

He was a lord then, these men had to be hired guards, any subject would have shown him more respect. Yet that still meant he had to fight at least three people, one of them likely being a knower. He took a moment, taking in one long, slow breath and then came out from behind the tree.

“Foolish of you to come out of hiding.” The man called Julli spoke in a gruff voice. The two men by his side walked forward. One of them had a stitched cut on the side of his face, these had to have been the men. “If you stayed back maybe you would have been able to escape.” Argo clutched onto the blades he held hidden within his thick cloak. The man was wrong, they had spotted him, there was never a chance to escape.

“I would have. But it just so happens that you have something of mine.”

“Ah. So you’re that Argo fellah that the bard kept going on about.” Argo’s teeth clenched and his eyebrows furrowed at the mention of Ryle. “Stupid tactic. He was so sure you would free him.” He shook his head, acting as if he were disappointed. As he spoke, his two subordinates, moved to the side, forming a triangle with Argo in the centre. These were professionals. He would need to take out one of them almost immediately, getting caught in the formation would be a death sentence. “But I’m a nice guy. Kneel down and I won’t kill you.”

Argo did as he was told. His cloak furled over itself several times as he went down. Julli had a perfect guard, Argo wouldn’t be able to strike him and walk away unscathed. The men to his side however seemed too muscular. The chance his first attack would prove fatal was low. He looked past the three guards to Demos and whoever the lord was. Demos matched his gaze, he was confident. Far too confident for only having three guards.

“Oh damn. You really gave up. Damn, I was looking forward to a challenge.” He glanced down at Argo, a wicked smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Felt, bind and gag him. Don’t want to run the risk of him being a knower.”

“Course Jull.” The man to his side reached for his belt to pull out the binds. An opening.

Argo immediately sprung upwards. One of his hands rose fast in a straight line. His cloak parted to reveal a combat knife flying towards the throat of Julli. He ran towards the third man, whose name he did not yet know, with his other knife still obscured by the cloak. The man, shocked, jumped back, before pulling out a short sword. He swung it down onto Argo, a mistake. Argo unclipped his cloak and threw it upwards. It wrapped around the edge of the blade and slowed its speed as he stepped around the cut. His position was obscured by the sheet of green. The man wouldn’t be able to make out his location. He moved forward to strike at his neck.

“Your left Crill!” The man in the carriage, Demos, shouted. They had a knower, there was no other way to be aware of his location. Argo’s knife clashed hard against steel plates which lined the man's gauntlet. He blocked the strike when Argo was only moments from his neck.

He wasted no time in flipping away. He had made a mistake, there wouldn’t be another opening like that. He had thought that any knower would be involved in combat, but no, they had stayed back to play support. He looked forward, he had broken out of the triangle, but the men had been given enough time to reorganise. Julli had avoided his strike, he had assumed he would, but still, this meant he would be against three people. They formed a semi circle and began forward, marching towards Argo. Each brandished a sword. He wouldn’t be able to hold them off. This was it.

“I’m sorry Dad.” He looked down at his feet trying to ignore his fears hammering into his mind. He wouldn’t be able to save his friends. He looked up at the sky as they approached. Was there a life after this? What would Cinn think when he met him again, what would his parents think?

“What was that you said? Surely you weren’t crying out for dear old dad.” A laugh ripped through Julli’s throat as he brought his sword down onto Ryle’s head. Not yet, he couldn’t simply give up. He leapt to the side, landing in a roll as Julli’s sword just narrowly missed his hair. The others quickly moved onto Argo. He barely deflected a thrust from the man who went by Crill and took a cut deep on his left arm from Felt. 

The three were skilled, all easily powerful enough to be a threat to a newly initiated member of the guild. It was no surprise that they, in conjunction with the scout of a knower had been able to bring down Nyx. They crashed into him like a coordinated wave. He parried a strike, rolled beneath another and then found them cutting along his thigh. Blood painted the grass as each movement became more pained. His ribs were getting worse. Why had his master taken his refusal so far? Why had he not waited to recover before leaving? This was all his fault. 

He spun his head to the side, the edge of a blade cutting along his cheek. He stifled a scream as he pulled backwards, further into the forest. The three men didn’t relent and Argo’s injuries continued to tally up. There was no way out of this. No trick, no taking advantage of an opening. 

He couldn’t remain on the defence forever, if there wasn’t an opening he would need to make one. He flicked his knife outwards, trying to strike at the largest of the men. Julli saw this and snickered, striking the flat of his blade down hard into Argo’s outstretched arm. The knife cut along the man's belly before it made contact. Yet he knew the second it hit that there was no surviving for him. His arm was broken, he only barely held onto the knife. The man was playing with him. He could have taken the arm off with that strike, but he wanted to see Argo suffer. Tears formed at the edge of his vision as he flipped the knife from his broken arm to his less injured and pulled further back into the forest.

“You right Crill?” Felt asked as he wrapped around Argo to the side, pressing him towards Julli.

“Yeah, just a flesh wound.” Blood streamed lightly from the stab wound. It was shallow, the man would hardly be impeded. Argo looked between them all, his eyes flittering between them like a bee in a field of flowers. They all grew closer. He looked past them, to the carriage where the lord and Demos sat. A smile covered his face. If he was going to die here he would at least bring them down.

He bit down hard on his lip, blood welling by his teeth, and he ran forward. Swords licked at his back as he sprinted forward, the three men shouted. He knew they would gain on him quickly.

His breath came in short, desperate bursts. The weight of his failure pressed in on him as he ran. Was this where it ended? Would he really die here, in the mud and blood of strangers, leaving Nyx and Ryle to their fates at the hands of whoever had captured them? 

He ran as fast as he could, he couldn’t waste any time. He leapt over a log which blocked his path, fragments of his ribs stabbing into his flesh. His arm waved behind him, sending waves of pain down him with each movement. 

“Demos! Protect me,” the lord screamed out with a thundering voice. The man to his side nodded and turned his attention onto Argo. The grass itself began to writhe and move almost as if it had a consciousness. So that was what his knowledge granted him power over. The grass grew more rigid and fine, almost as if they were blades striking at his feet. As if struck by a thousand tiny arrows blood began to stream from his feet. Argo leapt forward, with all the strength he could muster, avoiding the knife like grass. He landed close to the carriage and quickly clung to its side. He would kill Demos, free Nyx and Ryle and then hold off the guards whilst they escaped. He took the pommel of the knife and drove it hard into the locked wooden door of the carriage. It rattled but didn’t break in.

“Who do you serve?” Demos roared as he squeezed his eyes shut. The grass behind Argo grew rapidly as Demos’s face grew paler and paler. Like a lasso, the grass whipped around his waist and tried to pull him back. He could only fight against its grip with the strength of his weak left arm. 

“My self.” Argo felt his grip on the carriage's side weaken as the grass pulled on him with more force. If he slipped he would die. His life would have amounted to nothing. He let his parents die, he let Cinn and Iri get captured, he let Cinn die, he failed to rescue Iri and here he was about to let Nyx and Ryle die. He couldn’t let this happen.

“Don’t lie to me!” Demos roared, his skin deathly pale. He was over exerting himself. Argo clung onto the carriage's edge with all his strength, his nails cracking under the force as blood leaked down from his nose. The other bandits would be here soon. “Do you serve him?”

“Who?” Argo’s eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn’t think, his mind was flooded with a thousand thousand thoughts. This was it. His life would amount to nothing.

“Person!” He had heard that name before, when though? He pushed that thought from his mind. The lasso ripped his legs off of the carriage, he only clung to it by his fingers. One slipped. He looked to Demos, no colour was left on his face. Yet he wore a satisfied grin as if he was born with it. He was doing this in service of his master. What did Argo serve, why was he here, fighting a losing battle? To get revenge. That was the reason for this.

“I serve no one other than myself.” And a calm washed over him. And everything went black. And he was pulled off of the carriage. And he landed in the grassless dirt of the forest. And everything was quiet. And he stood up. And he looked towards Demos. And he saw him speak. And he heard the words. And he could not understand their meaning.

A sword came towards him from behind. Argo turned and with his broken arm slammed it to the side. The metal collapsed inwards as if it were made of paper. The man dropped the broken remains of the weapon, turned, and ran. 

He saw the world for what it was. Clay, subject to be changed by whoever held it. Whoever could impose their will upon it. The man, his name was Julli if Argo remembered correctly, ran towards him. His blade cut through the air above Argo’s head and shock covered his face. He hadn’t intended to swing there, his course had been altered, changed.

Argo knelt down, grabbing the knife he had earlier thrown at Julli. It had an odd shape now that he thought about it. When someone said knife they often thought of the type used to cook, to eat with. Argo’s were curved, almost like a bladed crescent. He turned back to Demos, ignoring Julli who had already begun to flee. He stood in front of his lord, arms stretched out, why try defend someone doomed to die? Argo couldn’t make sense of it, there death was decided the second he willed it to be. 

He raised his hand slowly into the air and then dropped the knife he held within it. Wind like a cannon smashed into it from behind and the knife shot like an arrow into Demos’s skull as he fell backwards, pinning the lord underneath his weight. Argo slowly moved to stand over him.

“Please, I’ll give you anything. Money, a job, servants, slaves.” Argo looked at his curved face. It was familiar. He had seen someone like him before, ages ago in the Southern province. The lady of Delva.

“Your predecessor went far more gracefully.” His face went ash white. 

“You were the one who killed my sister and butchered her guards?” A part of his mind locked away, winced at the memory of what he had done to Dalton. A guard simply doing his job who he had killed. 

“Yes.” He raised his foot to the neck of the man on the floor. He was weeping. Why?

“I thought-” He spoke through strained breaths. “I thought you said you didn’t work for Person.”

“Never heard the name.” He stepped down and tore through the man's neck. His head rolled to the side as blood gushed onto his boots.

He walked away from the corpses. The guards had long since fled, he knew they wouldn’t return. He walked towards the carriage, his wounds still present but long since having fled from his mind. He tapped the door and heard a click, it was open.

He pulled it open, the room was dark. He saw Ryle sitting, eyes wide, to his side was Nyx, unconscious. He was gagged, blood, not his own, stained his side. Nyx had a bad gash on the side of her arm. She would be able to recover. Argo took in a slow relaxed breath. He walked towards Ryle, cutting off his restraints. The shock on his face quickly turned to relief as he was freed.

“The guards?” Ryle asked, lightly rubbing his wrists.

“Gone.” Argo unwound as he sat down, letting Ryle free Nyx. Almost as if hit by a wave his mind flooded with thoughts. Parts of himself he had long since locked away climbed to freedom. He truly became aware of the past few minutes and he realised what he had done. The blood which leaked from his shoes sickened him. The glade that lay empty of grass shocked him. And the realisation of what he was astounded him.

Argo fell to the side, consciousness fleeing him as he realised that he was a changer.