“Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.
The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” — Nelson Mandela Riven kept walking until the old man’s body was out of sight.
He wanted to believe he had made the right decision.
That the old man had known what he was doing when he offered to help.
But as he moved through the shadows, all he could think about was the old man lying on the ground.
He shouldn’t have let him come.
If Riven had gone alone, the old man might still be alive.
But then another thought came to him.
If the old man hadn’t helped, Riven might have been caught, instead.
He had saved his life.
Riven clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep moving.
He couldn’t afford to stand around thinking about what had happened.
Not now.
He needed to escape.
He found a dark corner behind one of the buildings and crouched there, keeping his eyes on the storage hall.
He could hear the guards shouting in the distance.
Some were still celebrating, while others had begun to notice the smoke rising from the building.
Then a faint orange glow appeared in one of the windows.
The fire was spreading.
Riven watched as the smoke grew thicker, pouring out through the windows and roof.
Before long, flames began licking their way up the wooden supports.
A guard shouted.
“Fire!” The courtyard erupted into chaos.
Guards rushed toward the storage hall, some carrying buckets while others tried to organize the slaves.
A few stumbled over one another, still drunk from the celebrations.
The fire spread faster than they could control it.
Riven stayed hidden.
He waited until most of the guards had gathered around the burning building.
The flames grew higher, lighting up the courtyard and casting long shadows across the ground.
That’s when he noticed.
One of the side exits was still being watched by a single guard.
He seemed distracted, a haze over his eyes indicated he was drunk, he was just staring absent minded into the growing fire.
The man stood near the gate, staring at the fire.
His attention was completely focused on the burning storage hall.
Riven’s heart began to pound.
This was his chance.
He looked down at the spear tip in his hand.
It was small and crude, barely more than a broken piece of metal.
He had hidden it for weeks, imagining how he might need to use it.
Now he was about to find out.
Riven slowly approached the guard from behind.
Every step felt louder than the last.
He could hear his own breathing, and his hands were beginning to sweat and shake.
The guard didn’t notice him.
Riven moved closer.
Then, before he could lose his nerve, he lunged forward and drove the spear tip into the man’s neck.
The guard jerked violently.
Riven had expected resistance, but not the way the man immediately began struggling.
The spear tip had gone in, but it wasn’t a clean strike.
The guard grabbed at Riven’s arm, trying to pull him away.
Riven panicked.
He pushed harder.
The guard stumbled backward, making a horrible choking sound.
His hands clawed at Riven’s wrist before his grip weakened.
After a few more seconds, he collapsed to the ground.
Riven stumbled away, breathing heavily.
He stared at the man.
He had killed someone.
The realization hit him harder than he expected.
His stomach twisted, and his hands began to tremble.
He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
He had imagined escaping countless times.
He had imagined fighting the guards, getting past them, and finally leaving the camp behind.
But he hadn’t imagined this.
Riven swallowed hard.
He couldn’t stay here.
He crouched beside the fallen guard and pulled the spear tip from his neck.
His hands were shaking so badly that he nearly dropped it.
He noticed the sword at the man’s side.
He hesitated before taking it.
The weapon was far larger than anything he had ever used.
It was a simple sword, but it was still a real weapon.
He pulled it free, then took the sheath from the guard’s belt and strapped it around his waist.
He glanced at the man’s armor.
For a moment, he considered taking it, too.
But it was far too large for him.
Even if he managed to put it on, it would slow him down, making it impossible to move.
He couldn’t afford that.
Riven stood and looked toward the side exit.
Beyond it was the path out of the camp.
He took a deep breath and approached the gate.
His hands were still trembling, and he could feel the weight of the sword against his hip.
He looked back once.
The storage hall was now engulfed in flames.
Guards were shouting and running around, desperately trying to put out the fire.
Nobody was looking in his direction.
Riven turned back toward the gate.
He had come too far to stop now.
He reached for the latch and opened it.