The five survivors of the Marmarkan pursuit, bound and helpless, looked not unduly troubled by their captivity. They began to talk, addressing Mehmet and Percinious who they'd rightly decided were the leaders of their captors, but as they spoke Dorlan, neither could understand them. Felion interposed, translating, and explained that - as the pair had guessed - the warriors were offering their names (Facalath, Losavorn, Elend, Calipadea and Ethand), and their ransoms - twenty silver dhalven each or ten if exchanged for Cormaran prisoners.
"You know your leader is a fullblood Khyle," began Mehmet. When this was translated, the prisoners demurred. "He is Zamyr Silverweave, mightiest warleader of Marmark," they replied, "and he will conquer this land."
"If your leader is so great, how come you're trussed up here?"
"A battle is won or lost, some are defeated, but against the power that is now arising there can be no victory," was the complacent answer. "We will be ransomed, and when the war is over we will be rich."
Mehmet drew a knife, stepped forward, and cut Facalath's throat. As his corpse slumped, spilling crimson life across the earth, the other stared in disbelief before babbling assurances that whatever he wanted, they would do. Mehmet eyed them for a moment, and then worked his way along the line, slaying each in turn, leaving only Calipadea - the only female soldier - alive.
The look in her eyes - and the grins on some of the halfbloods - showed what they expected the next stage to be - but Mehmet freed her, and told her to go back to her leaders, and tell them that this was war. She spat at his feet in contempt, and he returned the favour in her face. Broken by his brutality, she turned and fled. A line had been irrevocably crossed...
Mehmet and Percinious considered the question of whether the Marmarkans had any Cormaran prisoners, and whether they'd be worth rescuing. Their conclusion was that they would be were they halfbloods, not otherwise.
Over the next few hours, they worked around the enemy army, finally reaching a position directly behind them, from where they could see them clearly. They studied the campsite with the aid of a spyglass combined with Farsee, but to no avail. Setting watches, they turned in.
Around midnight, Torgga, on watch, woke the others with the news that terrible screams and raucous cheering was coming from the enemy camp. The halfbloods looked at each other; all were thiniking the same thing. Silverweave's men were avenging Mehmet's murder of their fellows on any prisoners they had. It was a gloomy night after that. Anyone could be in that camp suffering; Bearband, Kelda, or even Bloodwind himself perhaps.
The next morning, the halfbloods closed up to 250 yards' distance from the camp, from where they could clearly see nineteen large stakes driven into the ground around Silverweave's tent, each decorated with a feebly moving body, flayed and impaled. One had milkwhite hair.
Looking around, they managed what they'd not been able to do the previous evening, to spot the outer piquets around the camp. One of them was a halfblood, and Mehmet deceided he wanted to talk to him. Using a clever strategem with a 'loose' horse, the man was tempted out of position to where he could be captured, and a conversation started. Despite the linguistic difficulties, Mehmet managed to get his theory that Qhal and half-Qhal needed to look after themselves across, but the man was not willing to desert Silverweave's army. The fact that the woman soldier Calipadea had been executed after her return illustrated some of the reasons behind this. "We are part of a winning army," he pointed out. "Talk to our brothers," Mehmet urged him, "and meet us tomorrow."
He described Silverweave in more detail; 'A giant of a man, mighty in magic beyond any I have ever met, skilled in arms and with great physical gifts...' Clearly this leader was a great part of why the Marmarkans expected to win. "I will take my freedom," said Ungard as he left.
For three days, the halfbloods trailed the army, hoping for Ungard to lead as many halfbloods out to join them as possible; but nothing happened. No defections, no executions. Then, on the night of the third day, disaster struck.
Mehmet and Percinious were on guard, but their hearing gave them only a few seconds' warning of approaching feet. Marching quickly, a Marmarkan patrol blundered by pure chance straight into the centre of the halfbloods' camp. Yelling to wake the others, they broke left and right and attacked the intruders from behind. This gave their comrades just enough time to roll out of bedrolls and grab weapons.
A tangled, messy battle ensued. Torgga's sword was knocked flying clean out of the meleé, forcing him to crawl off into the dark to retrieve it; Nutbolter found himself fighting probably the most skilled opponent he'd ever faced and was impaled before help arrived and the man was finished off. Healing magic took care of most of the wound, but Percinious' pride was another matter. Finally the last Marmarkan was down, and the halfbloods wasted no time. Grabbing equipment and bedding, they untethered the two horses and made rapid tracks away from the scene.
As he passed the cooling corpse of one of the Marmarkans, somthing caught Percinious' eye, and he grabbed it up. A tiny brooch, with a bronze snake's head set with twin sapphires for eyes, and - as it touched his skin - perciptibly a matrix for something. He pocketed it as they ran.
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