The Unwitting Thief

Chapter 8b - A Wild Night

Thomas pulled the blanket tightly around him, trying to clear his mind, filled with excitement for the day to come, and fear of what it may bring.

He had struggled to sleep each and every night so far, and this night his nervous excitement was just one more thing to add to the list of things that kept him from sleep.

There were stones poking him in the back at every angle, snores of varied volume mingling together with the sound of animals in the surrounding trees. As if that was not enough, the leaves rustled in the trees, water crashed down a stream nearby, and the dying fire crackled on it's last legs.

Of course he dreaded the nightmares as well, but each night he went to sleep hoping beyond hope that tonight he would sleep soundly without any nightmares and wake up in the morning actually feeling rested.

He felt close to tears of frustration as sleep continued to elude him, when he suddenly heard a sound that didn't belong the normal cacophony that was his new bedroom.

He froze mid shuffle and strained to hear it again. Just as he started to think he had imagined it, there it was. The smooth sound of metal shifting, a weapon as it slid from its sheath.

Thomas's eyes darted from Traveller to Traveller. They were all here. Whoever had drawn a weapon, it wasn't one of them.

The soft sound of undergrowth giving in to the tread of the unknown signalled their attempt to approach unnoticed. Definitely not a welcome visitor then.

Thomas leaned over slowly, so as not to draw attention to himself, shook Monty and held his hand over his mouth.

Monty's eyes flew open and he lunged for his weapons before he realised it was Thomas above him.

Thomas lifted a finger to his lips, and pointed in the direction of the noises amongst the trees.

Monty stopped, listened, and then nodded, so Thomas withdrew his hand.

He watched Monty get to his feet, a weighty axe in each hand, and Thomas realised he was unarmed. He had a small set of knives that he'd only ever used for prying open containers and cutting ties, but never to draw blood. He had never had the need to use them in this type of encounter. He was a thief, not an assassin.

He felt even smaller than usual behind Monty, as he prayed he would not need to use his pitiful knives.

Monty froze as he heard another movement to the trees to the left.

Panic built inside Thomas's chest; they were being surrounded.

Monty turned to Thomas, and gestured at the rest of the Travellers. He wanted him to wake them up. Monty, the man who fought with wolves bare handed, even with his large size and two axes, needed help. This wasn't good.

Thomas crouched and scurried amongst the sleeping Travellers, trying to pick the one he knew better first. He didn't want them to wake and attack him on sight.

So first, he moved to wake Dennis, because he could help him wake the others, and they would listen to Dennis.

He repeated the motions he had done with Monty, and Thomas managed to wake Dennis with minimal sound, and no injuries.

Dennis immediately grabbed his own weapon, a simple sword, and woke the Traveller who slept next to him.

This took on a domino effect as neighbours woke each other around the camp, and relief flooded through Thomas, until he heard movement in the trees behind him.

He turned and saw Avelyn asleep, having chosen her sleeping spot slightly further away from the others, with no one next to her to wake her up. His heart jumped into his throat as he lunged to arouse her before anything could happen to her. He even forgot to put his hand over her mouth, or to wake her gently.

She yelped, and spun him onto his back, a knife pressed against his throat.

Where the knife had emerged from, he had no idea.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Thomas could just about see some of the other Travellers, awake now, behind Avelyn, as they shook their heads at him. They lifted their weapons and fell into their battle stances.

Avelyn followed his gaze, and didn't take long to realise they were in danger.

She bounced up off of him into her own fighting stance, drawing a second blade just as a swordsman charged out from the shadows. Her two knives flew up, and only just managed to block the sword before it sliced her down the middle.

Still sprawled on the ground, the blades were right above his head, and Thomas had to swallow a scream. He rolled away and crawled into the shadows, as he tried to convince himself that, as he was a thief, he operated better from the shadows. But, he knew that it was fear and cowardice that lead him there.

He looked back, and was glad to see Avelyn had manoeuvred her way out from under her attacker, and was dancing around him. She was too fast for the swordsman. Soon he was flat on the ground, and blood spurted from his legs where she had managed to incapacitate him. A final slash, and he lay still, as she went off in search of new prey.

He took in the rest of the camp, and counted at least a dozen intruders, all clad in black, all equipped with a variety of weapons that flashed as they caught the light from the dying fire in the centre of the battleground.

It was utter chaos, as screams of pain and shouts of triumph competed against each other. Thomas didn't know who was winning, but he knew he had to do something.

He climbed the tree he had hidden behind, and once he was perched on a high enough branch, took out his knives and looked for a target.

He had often climbed to a vantage point and created distractions, so that Jeff and Wez could slip by, but that hadn't been with knives, and it had been aimed near guards, never at them.

But, there was a first time for everything.

He stalled as he saw Dennis locked in battle with one of the intruders. He was impressed to see the old man hold his own so well, surprised even. But, he knew that Dennis was important to the group, so he took aim and prayed he wouldn't miss.

The knife whistled as it split the air, until it landed with a sickening thud in the intruders neck. Blood spurted in all directions as the man pulled at the knife, and unintentionally ripped his own throat open.

Dennis threw his hands up to cover his face as the arterial spray covered him. The man fell to the ground, soaking the soil beneath him with blood, and Dennis stared at the mess with utter shock. He eventually looked up, locked eyes with Thomas, still crouched on a tree branch, and nodded at him before he turned to find a new opponent.

Thomas could have stared at the corpse sprawled on the ground, dead by his hand. He could have wondered at how he had managed such a throw, but there wasn't time. The fight raged on, so he pulled out another knife, and took aim.