It was nearly here, the fire. When it comes, they would have lost all the papers, all the maps, the medicine, the food, the weapons. Nowak tried to pack as much as he could, tried to keep the horse outside from scurrying off with the wagon. Everything was shoved into the boxes, two by two, at times three by three, they were dumped at the back.

  There were a few more rapid bangs in the distance. Most of the people, whether it be civilians or freed slaves, made their way out the town. A few stayed behind, there was an elderly man next door, simply sitting on the bench outside his home. Nowak didn’t ask anything.

  A few footsteps pattered from the side, he turned with his hand behind his back, before relaxing it back by his waist.

  “Is everything packed?!” Bhati asked him.

  “Were you roasting marshmallows or summat?!” Nowak asked. “Thought I was going to leave you in this bleedin’ mess!”

  “Right, because was just parked around the corner from the whole thing. Can we leave now?”

  “Did you at least get them?!”

  “I took a lot of them. Come on, I think the main road’s still intact!”

  The two climbed on, Bhati hid the camera in the back. Nowak quickly moved the cart forward, darting onto the main road. Soot filled their lungs, the two covered their faces with their tunics. Nowak took an odd route, just somewhere far from where everyone would’ve ran.

  They were probably twenty minutes out of Gwyndel by now, away from where anybody would have been running. No soldiers, no refugees. The way they were positioned, it was as if they were just coming over from Cardai.

  “What happened with them, then?” Nowak asked.

  “They’ve erm… I saw them run back to their ship. Looked like they u-turned toward the ocean.”

  “So this whole fiasco was just a case of arson?”

  “Their main guy called it ‘advertising’.”

  Nowak glanced at Bhati before sighing. “He’s an Earther.”

  “No shit.”

  Bhati went through the photos on the camera. Some were victims, some were perpetrators.

  “Did you get a positive ID on their weapons?” Nowak asked.

  “Well, they’re definitely AK-47s. Maybe 74s.” He zoomed in on one soldier with a rifle raised. It was too blurry for anyone to do an analysis.

  “So that’s a no, then?”

  “I never said I had one. Did get this, though.”

  Bhati switched to a video. There was a blond-ish man, middle aged, walking around with a big smirk on him. His voice was faint, the camera unfortunately couldn’t properly isolate it from far away. His mannerisms were jerky, quite eccentric. Like he had all the time in the world. At one point, he took a selfie with a group of Elves sitting on the floor.

  “Is this the—”

  “It’s the Earther,” Bhati said. “Sounded like a Londoner - a bit cockney, I think. Look over here.” He paused the video, zooming in on a bald man. This one a bit younger, bit bulkier than those around him.

  “Another one of us?”

  “He’s Russian. Heard his accent.”

  Nowak’s eyes widened. “He’s Russian?!”

  “Somewhere in Eastern Europe.”

  “So, he’s not Russian?”

  “He could be it’s just… he was quiet, he looked stern.”

  “That’s racist, Abdul.”

  Bhati didn’t say anything else.

  Nowak continued, “Still, we’re dealing with another party from our world. All three years since we’ve been here, Witaenal’s been Langhall’s jurisdiction. Hell else would we be dealing with?”

  Bhati switched to a photo. The bald man was holding boxes of a yellow powder with two other people near the dock.

  “Whoever’s peddling this back home,” he answered.

  Nowak leaned in. “Binddust.”

  “Whole kilos of them. They raided this from the temple.”

  “So, it’s being trafficked from here. How many did you reckon were Earth's? They’re not all Earthers though, are they?”

  “No, they’re all too local, skinny and that. They’re rebels.”

  “Hmm, they look Banner, I think.” Nowak suddenly pointed. “Hang on, zoom in there quickly?” Bhati changed the focus. “That’s the leader of the Green Raiders there. Can’t remember his name.”

  “It’s your job to—”

  Nowak interrupted, folding his arms. “Do you remember his name?”

  Bhati paused. “Fair enough.”

  “We need to get this back home.”

  “How far’s the Somerset Fissure, Piotr?”

  “Thirty, forty miles. Think we can get there in a couple days.”

  “Did you get all our papers?”

  “Course I did. Should be in one of the boxes back there.”

  “Which one?”

  Nowak looked behind back in the cart. He sighed. “It’s one of ‘em.”

  There were Elves up ahead, half a dozen, fully armoured. They weren’t standard checkpoint security, didn’t seem so. Most likely that of the Imperial Army.

  Nowak readied the papers. “Got your persona ready?”

  Bhati was exercising his voice, straightening his purple headscarf at the same time. He switched to a Pakistani accent. “I’m ready. You?”

  Nowak put on a Polish accent. “How do I sound?”

  Bhati stuck his thumb up. “Perfect.”

  A female soldier, a Captain according to her silver insignia, held her hand out, ordering the cart to halt. She came around the side, an immediate discomfort painted on her face. She powered through, saying, “Travel documents.”

  Nowak handed them over.

  The Captain scoured over every letter on every page, had it not been for the poor handwriting tripping her up, her behaviour would have been completely mechanical.

  “Where are you two heading from?” She asked.

  “Oh,” Bhati said, “My friend, we have fared all the way from Cardai.”

  The Captain looked up. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  Bhati laughed with a warm smile. His eyes narrowed onto hers. “What gave it away?”

  “Your skin colour, mainly,” she said.

  Bhati’s smile faltered, only slightly. “You are very direct, aren’t you? I come from the lands far to the east, I’m a humble trader, looking to sell wares seemingly exotic to people such as yours.”

  “Mantep?”

  “A bit further than that. Past the deserts, into the mountains.”

  “I only know of the Jade, I’m afraid. What about your friend here?”

  “Krensk,” Nowak said, not smiling like his colleague.

  That got an odd look from the Captain. “Strange of you both to come to Witaenal.”

  “How so?” Bhati asked.

  “Well, there’s nothing on this island. Few angry peasants, too much rain. Not ripe for trade, that’s for sure.”

  “Which is why my wares are far more expensive. Few can afford, and those that can will pay triple that of the mainland.”

  The Captain nodded. “Are you aware Gwyndel has been subject to a rebel attack?”

  “Has it now? We considered staying there for the night, but my friend here prefers sleeping under the stars.”

  “Very romantic. Unfortunately, we are going to have to search the goods on your cart.” She signalled her troops.

  Bhati faked a panic. “Oh, erm, be delicate with my wares.”

  Nowak sighed, holding tightly on the handgun behind his waist. He didn’t say anything, there was no protest. All the consequential stuff, rifles, ammunition, machines were near the front, defended by crates upon crates of maps, papers, and provisions. A couple Persian carpets too, not to sell, just to keep up the act.

  Unfortunately, the defences were breeched. Nowak stared at the soldier getting closer. He tilted back. The Elf was jarred enough to distance himself.

  “Doesn’t seem to be anything of worth,” the soldier said.

  “Never insult a trader’s product,” Bhati said. “It is not - ah - good etiquette.”

  “Don’t lecture me on etiquette, round-ear,” that same soldier told him.

  Nowak simply stared back at the soldier, tilting his body back. It was subtle, but the Elf was jarred enough to distance himself.

  The Captain provided the papers back into Bhati’s hands. “The roads get murky up ahead, your wagon may get trapped.”

  “I thank you for the advice, Captain… I apologise, I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Captain Crezol.”

  “Crezol. I believe a friend of mine is called Crezol, a very honourable woman.”

  Crezol upheld her resting face. “On your way, now.”

  The wagon moved forward. Eventually, the checkpoint was no longer in sight.

  “You overdid it there a bit,” Nowak said lowly, switching back to his normal voice.

  Bhati did the same. “Over— at least I was speaking! You only ever said one word!”

  “I’m still allowed to criticise your performance.”

  “I got us out of there, I’ve done it a million times before, and I’d do it again.”

  “Still a chance you’d mess up, like. Now, if I mess up, I can blend into a crowd of a bunch of skinny peasants. If you mess up, well, there’s only so many ‘Asians’ in Witaenal. The Elves’ll be on your arse in no time.”

  Bhati scoffed. “Why are you talking to me like it’s my first day?”

  “I’m just looking out f—”

  “We’ve been doing this for three bloody years, and we’re still here.”

  Nowak couldn’t think of a response.

  “Besides,” Bhati went on, “Don’t think the Elves will think I sound ‘authentic’. I’m too foreign, probably a barbarian to them, they tend to generalise anyone outside their continent.”

  The sun was already nearing its twilight in the distance. Usually, they would have set up a camp. Yet amidst the heaps of cargo in the back of the wagon, not a single thing for a tent. They could have used one of the carpets, a few branches, made something out of that. But neither of the two liked the dark clouds coming in.

  There was a barn on the corner of the path. It looked part of a small farm, nobody was around. The crops seemed to have just recently been tended to, though. So there was at least someone around here.

  Nowak eyed the house, he told Bhati to take the cart inside the barn. “Just gonna have a word with whoever’s in there.”

  “What if they don’t let us stay?” Bhati asked.

  “We go somewhere else.”

  “Think the earpieces have charged, need one of them?”

  “It’s just a single question. I’m not out assassinating the Russian President.”

  Nowak moved up the path. The house was standard, only a couple floors high, probably had been standing here for at least a couple decades. He came up to the door, knocking without raising his arm. He waited probably a minute for anyone to respond. Nobody did.

  He knocked again, saying, “Is anyone in?”

  Probably twenty, thirty seconds of standing around. Nowak sighed. He pushed down the door handle, rattling back and forth. Locked.

  The rain had finally come, pattering lightly against his skin. He decided to have a go around the back, passing windows too high for him to peek through. There was a back door. Open.

  His head poked through. “Anybody in here? I’m not robbing the place, I just want to have a quick word!”

  More silence. Nowak let himself in.

  “I’m coming inside!” He announced.

  There was at least someone was living here. Any speck of dust had been rarer than gold. A few vegetables on the table, an old sword hung up on the wall. Nothing special.

  A few taps sounded from above. It could’ve been a rat, it could’ve been a person.

  “Is someone upstairs?!” Nowak shouted again.

  Something was off, and he knew it. His handgun was still behind his waist, he gripped it.

  The stairs whined below him after every step. It didn’t stop once he was at the top. He looked to the left, then groaned once he looked to the right.

  A body laid face-first on the ground, from a quick glance, it was some sort of blunt force to the head. The blood was still flowing, absorbed into the floorboards. Nowak considered pulling out his gun, but that risked his cover being ripped off.

  “I know you’re in here. Couldn’t care less who this bloke was,” Nowak said. “I’m just hoping you’re willing to talk.”

  A few footsteps banged from the side, something small crashed onto his head. Bits of glass rolled down the side. It stung, it stung awfully. Nowak was left dizzy for a few moments, he held onto the bannister next to the stairs. Some figure ran down.

  Once he could, at the least, guess his surroundings, he straightened himself. Carefully heading down to the bottom floor.

  Outside, Bhati had just hitched the horse by some hay in the barn. A noise, someone running, had come from the house. His head peered outside, there was someone, a young man, legging it over the crops and into the forest.

  Nowak stepped out after, barely able to stand. Bhati ran to his colleague. “Jesus Christ, the hell happened in there?!”

  “The cunt smacked me on the head with a bottle is what!” Nowak blurted.

  Bhati helped him stand once he rocked to the sides. He noticed the cuts in his head. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Oh God, how bad is it?”

  “Not too deep. Scrapes, if anything. Needs bandaging.”

  The wrapping was rough against Nowak’s skin. Bhati was initially right, though, the wounds weren’t that dire. He wasn't bound to suffer a concussion either.

  “Who was that, the one who ran off?” Bhati asked, tying the bandages.

  “Not a clue. There was a body upstairs, Human, looked to be the owner of the place. Next thing I know, someone tries to smash my head in. I didn’t see his face, he ran down the stairs.”

  “Were you compromised in any way?”

  Once Bhati finished, Nowak groaned. “He didn't see anything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Unless he wanted to have a good look at my arse, he wouldn’t’ve found a thing.”

  Bhati sighed. “Right. I think we should just stay here for the time being. Need me to get you anything?”

  “That guy’s corpse, ideally.”

  “Are we still up for staying the night, then?”

  Nowak moaned a few words, concepts of words, at least. “We’re— I’m better off staying here. Someone’ll have to keep watch over the night, though. We’ll swap.”

  “You think they’ll come back?”

  “Whoever… whoever banged my head in was probably robbing the place. He was either alone, or he’s with a group. My guess is the first, probably an escaped slave, a bandit. Get me my vape?”

  Bhati’s face dropped. “You have a vape?”

  “Only for special occasions.”

  “How come I’ve never seen it?!”

  “Again, I rarely use it.”

  “You could’ve risked compromising this whole operation with a vape pen!”

  “I’m not gonna repeat myself a third time.”

  Bhati sighed. “Get it yourself.”

  Nowak stammered. “I’m injured, you melon!”

  “They could be back whenever, last thing we need is them seeing you killing your own lungs.”

  Rations were usual. Just a tray of bread rolls and chicken, having about as much seasoning as pigs had feathers. All the ‘normal food’ as they referred their canned ones weren’t saved. Nowak thought he got them, but he got the wrong box in all the rush. Probably ash by now.

  The doors were shut, a covering everything they had.

  “Gonna miss anything when we get back?” Nowak asked.

  Bhati looked up, his mouth was still full when he spoke. “Probably the fact I’m not on my phone all the time.”

  “Thought you’d miss your phone.”

  “Not really. It’s just… I have constant notifications. Whether it’s just something from my Mum, something from work. It was nice for a while, not being bombarded by the world on a small screen. Funny thing, I’m seeing the world much clearer now. I was always just zoned out before all of this.”

  “What was your cover back home again?”

  “That I’m on some peacekeeping mission over in Belize. I wasn’t that close with my family, they’re not fussed if I’m radio silent for a while.”

  “Thought family was a big thing with Asian cultures.”

  Bhati scoffed. “Not mine. Not mine whatsoever. We stopped talking at some point. Not entirely, but… yeah.”

  “Well, at least you have one.”

  “Don’t you have a son?”

  Nowak made a face. “No?”

  “I swear you said you have a kid.”

  “I’ve never mentioned that. What are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t lose your memories, did you?”

  Nowak rolled his eyes. “My name is Piotr Budny Nowak. I was born in Krakow, raised in Lancaster and I now live in Sheffield. I served in the Royal Marines, serial number—”

  “Okay, I get it. Who am I thinking of with the kid then?”

  Nowak shrugged.

  “What are you gonna miss, then?” Bhati asked.

  “Probably nothing. The food here’s shite, there’s a million diseases I have to keep track of, and I can’t have a genuinely honest conversation with anybody. Can’t just keep talking to you all the time.”

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Just about everything,” Nowak snorted. Bhati threw a bread roll at him, but there was no reaction. He went on to say, “I just want to head back home, have a nice, hot shower. Three years of films and TV I need to catch up on.”

  “They give a few months leave, I think.”

  “Come to think of it, they’ll want me - us, sorry - on all the meetings. Mind passing me the camera again?”

  Bhati passed it over. “I think I charged it. Hasn’t been much sun the past few days, though.”

  Nowak scoured across the photos. “This’ll be a lot for the other teams, to be honest.”

  “Yeah, we’re stretched enough with all the shit happening in Canada. Going to need more operatives on the job.”

  “Did we get anything on the Canada situation?”

  “I know as much as you do. If it doesn’t affect us, we won’t be briefed.”

  Nowak stopped on a photo. “Huh. Weird.”

  “Did you find something?”

  Nowak flipped the camera around. A boy, maybe twelve, appeared on screen next to an older girl. “Do you recognise this kid?”

  “He was with the Earther. I couldn’t tell if they took him hostage, adopted him…”

  “I think he’s one of ours. Related to one of ours, I mean.”

  “Operative or asset?”

  “Obviously an asset. Looks like Alanus’ kid.”

  “You’ve met him?”

  “Last year. I don’t think you were with me for this one. I never spoke to him, he seemed… quiet.”

  Bhati grew slightly concerned. “The hell was he doing all the way in Gwyndel, then? Alanus is all the way up north in Antalm.”

  “Right now, he’s in the custody of an armed militia. On a boat. Heading straight into the Great Ocean.”

  “At least we have a reason to keep the Elf aro— hold on.”

  Bhati listened for a moment. His head jerked near the doors of the barn. Something round, white and blue reflected through one of the gaping cracks. An eye.

  The eye disappeared, a bit of rustle sounded outside. Bhati said quietly, “Someone’s been watching us.”

  Nowak stood to his feet. “How long?”

  Bhati did the same. “Everything’s out in the open. We’re exposed.” He opened the barn door slightly.

  Nowak grabbed his handgun. “You have a look out, I’ll be behind you.”

  Bhati slowly opened the door, his colleague pulling the slide. His head poked out, eventually, he stepped out.

  The rain was heavy, accompanied by a low fog. There were footprints embedded into the mud below, leading up to the house. The creak of a door sounded in the distance.

  “They’ve gone in there,” Bhati stated.

  “It’s them,” Nowak remarked. “You try talking to them, I’ll go around the back. But we’re likely going lethal. No loose ends.”

  Bhati nodded. His gaze analysed every darkened tree, every bit of shadow for any movement. A few noises - chatter - came from inside the house. There were multiple of them. The windows had been blocked up with whatever furniture or cloth they could find.

  Bhati knocked on the door. Nowak made his way round to the back door.

  The chatter stopped, or rather, it lowered. Bhati took a breath, preparing his cover.

  A voice whispered from behind the door. “Let me— No, let me deal with this. Don’t argue. I said don’t—”

  The door opened. A man stood there, looking like he hadn’t eaten a thing in days.

  “What do you want?” He asked.

  “Hello, neighbours!” Bhati proclaimed. Nowak wanted to smack him on the back of the head hearing him, but he was already twenty metres on the other side of the house. Bhati continued, “I couldn’t help but notice you have just moved in here. We are currently staying down in that barn.”

  The man was silent for a second or two. He glanced to the side briefly. “Sure.”

  A faint ‘Hurry up’ shouted from behind Bhati. He jerked his head around. Two figures began to drag a horse out of the barn. The door abruptly shut on him.

  “Fuck’s sake. Nowak, they’re taking the cart!” He cried.

  “We’re going lethal! I’ll handle the house!” Nowak shouted back.

  He darted inside, the man at the door didn't even have a chance to react once he noticed him. He was on the ground with a gaping hole through his head.

  A screech came from the stairs. As Nowak turned to see, he only eyed a few legs rushing back up. He did the same quickly after.

  This time, he made sure nobody was going to get the jump on him. This time, he wasn’t going to embarrass himself.

  He took a few checks to his six as he made his way up those steps. It seemed everyone else was upstairs. His gun was raised the whole time. By the time he was upstairs, he counted three - no - four people.

  One, a woman, tried to hit him on the head with a vase. He just about dodged it, smacking her on the side of hers with the but of his gun. She ended up tumbling down the stairs. Only three left.

  Nowak raised his gun again, before lowering it. There was another woman, two children - a boy and a girl.

  He muttered under his breath, “Piss.”

  Bhati had made… it was not really quick work. The first guy he landed quite quickly. The second, however, had been lucky that Bhati’s gun suddenly jammed. This did not stop him from getting charged onto the door of the barn.

  He struggled, Bhati’s weight almost crushing the side of his head.

  “How many more are there?!” Bhati shouted at him.

  The guy spat on his face. In return, his head was whacked on the door.

  “Answer me!” Something cold touched just under his chin. “I’ve no problem having you end up like your friend there!”

  The man looked to his friend, face sinking into the mud. He stuttered slightly. “Th— there’s just us. And the ones in the house.”

  “Nobody else?”

  “N— nobody. Nob—”

  Bhati pulled the trigger before he finished his sentence. He gazed around for a bit, before securing the horse. Everything was intact, nothing was damaged. Eventually, he began making his way back up to the farmhouse.

  He opened the front door. There would’ve been nine rounds left in his magazine.

  Nowak was pacing around upstairs, constantly muttering to himself. “I can do this, I can do this.”

  “You can let us go. You can let all of us go! W— we won’t tell— we won’t tell anybody!” The woman said. The children were kept behind her, the girl hugging her leg.

  They looked beaten, tired, like the man downstairs. Eyebags caved into their sockets. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

  “Don’t bargain! Don’t fucking bargain!” Nowak cried. “It doesn't help anything!”

  He jerked his gun up once he heard the stairs groan. An ascending purple headscarf calmed him. Bhati had made his way up.

  “Oh, God,” he said.

  “I can’t do it,” Nowak admitted to him. “I just can’t do it.”

  Bhati sighed. “Piotr, go down, get the cart ready.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll deal with them. Go.”

  Nowak glared at the three, and walked back down the stairs.

  Bhati stared at the woman, and then the boy, recognising his blue eyes. His legs were shaking, they all were. He took a deep breath. He raised his gun.

  It was all up in flames behind them, not even the rain could douse it all. Nowak and Bhati didn’t even have a glance back as the fires lit up the night. They only had half a day to get to Somerset, now.

  “We could’ve just left,” Nowak said. “Ignored whoever was watching us. Pretended we weren't there.”

  “Would’ve complicated matters further. We did our job,” Bhati said.

  “I shouldn’t’ve hesitated there. Why did I hesitate?”

  “Everyone’s got boundaries.”

  “I’ve been trained against all that.”

  “Just don’t bring this up with home. If anything, you’ve still got more of yourself left than… well most of us.”

  They didn’t talk more on the way. A few more checkpoints, a few more big roads, they came across a small castle. A Human guard, teeth and skin cleaner than most on the island, asked them one thing.

  “What’s the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”

  Bhati looked at Nowak. “Ready to go home?”

  Nowak nodded.

  Bhati leaned toward the guard. “An African or a European Swallow?”