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*

On my way out of the outpost I saw my thesis about the fleeing crooks proven. They had jettisoned some of their belongings during the hasty retreat, probably to be able to run faster. Well, I couldn't refrain from picking up the occasional apple or even those useless coins while I followed their trail down the mountainside - must be an ingrained reflex.
Believe me or not, after a while which didn't strike me as outrageously long I saw the river. Coming from the mine, the road to the Old Camp was flanked by the mountains to the left and the river to the right, so I decided to follow the river this time. I didn't feel the need to use a mountain for a crutch anymore, and as long as I steered clear of the river's bloodfly-infested banks, there wouldn't be any trouble. Or so I hoped.

Miraculously my plan seemed to work. I meandered along the river for a long while without running into a single cataclysm, wild beast or crook. It made me relax a bit, and I already told you what happened when I did that... I became very conscious of all the little and bigger scratches, nicks and bruises until I felt completely shattered. Just before I lost my determination to carry on, however, the spires of the Old Camp's castle tower came in sight. A good timing indeed as this helped me to pull together all my grit and speed up, the proverbial stable smell dragging me home by the nostrils.
In retrospective, I should have been alarmed when I finally reached the bridge which led straight to the camp's main gate, I really should have. The two guards who stood there day in, day out1 pulled their weapons with a start as soon as they saw me approach. When I came closer, though, their jaws dropped simultaneously.

"Uh- ah," one of them stammered, the one with the goatee, "it's you. By Innos, you nearly scared me shitless!"
"You bet," I said, not in the mood for a lengthy discussion, and walked between them across the bridge. Mind you, this one just leads across the river. Even if it collapsed, no real harm would be done unless you couldn't swim, so it was one of the very few bridges under the barrier that held no horror for me. Looking around I saw that a lot of people were out here in front of the Old Camp, at least more than usual. I thought I even made out one of the Mages taking a leisurely stroll in the countryside.

*

The Old Camp's main gate was closed. I had never seen it closed before in all my life, so it made me frown. An error, of course, since my split brow didn't take the abuse lightly; blood began to run down my face. I chose to ignore this and jogged towards the host of guards who had collected in front of the gate - six guys in all, one of them a Heavy.
This was highly unusual as the Heavies generally patrolled the outer ring along the footbridges. Up to that day none of them had seen gate guard duty2; credit it to my fatigue, but it still didn't ring more than a minor alarm bell with me.
They weren't too vigilant, either. At the moment it looked as if one of them berated the others for some minor breach of regulations, which actually made me grin - Ian (and Asghan, for that matter) had been reading the riot act to me so often during my time at the mine that I was long beyond caring.

Oh right, the mine.
Remembering my real mission, I hobbled closer. The Heavy was the first to notice; he instantly aimed his crossbow at me, shouting, "Halt!"
The four other guards who had been facing me gazed over in alarm while the fifth guy jumped straight into the air before wheeling around and drawing his sword. It was Fletcher, one of the courtyard guys I knew by name, and his red-rimmed eyes widened in horror when he saw me.
"No sweat, Fletcher," I assured him while I limped up to my fellow guards. "It's just me - Aaron. Do the words 'Old Mine' trigger a memory?"

I had expected Fletcher to answer with either 'yes' or 'no'. What he did, though, was perform a frontal assault, lunging forward with an inarticulate grunt. I was so perplexed that I didn't even think of drawing my own weapon to block, so his blade slashed across my chest, ruined my borrowed outfit and drew blood. To be true, the physical damage was probably minimal compared to my banged-up head, but for once the resulting 12-inch gash was something that hurt instantly instead of hours later.
Now I'm not exactly a coward, you know, but the past hours (days?) had already formed a habit. I turned tails and made a desperate dash for the river.

Well, I had managed to outrun a pack of snappers (even though I suspect they had just toyed with me), but as it was I didn't manage to outrun a pack of enraged guards. Something ripped across my back, Fletcher's sword, probably; the jolt sent me tumbling, the grassy ground jumping up and straight into my face. I just managed to get up on my feet again in time to see the Heavy fly through the air, becoming bigger and bigger in my sights.
If you have ever watched someone wearing plate mail do a flying kick, you'll surely understand that I was very impressed despite my knowledge that the collision might as well kill me.

Idiot's luck again; his booted foot caught me high in the side and sent me sprawling on my back. I instantly knew that I had cracked a few ribs, but at least I was still alive, and in the next moment the whole six-pack swarmed all over me.
Well, I expected them to kill me on the spot, but they didn't. Somebody disarmed me, then Fletcher grabbed me by the hair.
"You, of all people," he said and shook his head. "Well, who would have believed this?"
"I - what?" I wheezed, still gasping for air. "Gotta - talk to - Gomez. The mine- has collapsed."
"Yeah, right." He snorted. "That was two days ago."
"But... how comes..." I stared at the guy in disbelief. "How do you know?"
The look on Fletcher's face made it all too obvious that he thought I was stark raving mad. "One of the diggers brought the news that very same night. A guy named Snipes, I think."
"Snipes," I croaked, feeling very old and sick all of a sudden. "Where... where is he?"
"That's none of your business, but if you absolutely have to know... he lost his head."
"Oh." Well, that was at least something. "So I won't have to see Gomez about this after all, huh."
"On the contrary, buddy." My co-guard sent me a taxing glance. "I bet you'll have a lot of explaining to do."

*

So that's about it, my friend. You know the rest, of course, about how they threw me into this hole of a dungeon, and how they always asked the same questions - namely 'How long have you been affiliated with this New Camp scum?', and 'How did you sabotage the mine?' Sabotage my ass; idiots, all of them.
You know that we'll have a state visit in this very cell tonight, don't you? Not that I felt presentable; I'm still dizzy and bleeding like a stuck pig, and once again they took all my stuff. Nevertheless we might see Gomez himself, Super High Chief Ore Baron, Lord of Lords, Idiot of Idiots... though I'm afraid it'll be just Raven. Man, that guy's head is stuck so deep in Gomez' butt that his name is written on his soles for easier identification. Do you believe he'll ask something else for a change?
See. Neither do I.
Well, this time they'll be in for a little surprise, though... if you'll lend me your femur, that is. With just a little resolve it won't pose a major problem to cram it deep down the throat of whoever's coming through this door, and then we'll be off - I'm positive about this.
So wish me luck, my skeletal friend - we both know I'll need it.

---

1 They were runners-up for the most uneventful job in the whole colony (before the shadow incident I would have undoubtedly won the jackpot here); every time I saw them they had nothing better to do than pick their butts or noses, and they probably hadn't seen a single live enemy in their time. Their strange reaction should have warned me. Alas, it did not.
2 Excepting Thorus, that is, but I don't believe somebody told him to do so. He probably had positioned himself at the castle entry solely to demonstrate that he was, after all, just 'one of the boys', you know.

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