Dead and Dying (part 1)

The craziest thing happened today.

There have been rumors flying around camp for weeks now- rumors that we have a spy, someone with a direct link to Xiivu.

The Redmatt (the big kahunas of our group of rebels) finally stood up and announced it. "The rumors are true. There is a spy in our midst. However, he shall be treated with mercy. He will be considered an official prisoner of war- no longer a comrade, no longer a soldier, but part of us still. Turn yourself in and we shall not harm you."

These guys talk like that all the time. If you walked around camp, you'd feel like you were in merry old England with weird accents and good-looking guys sharpening swords or bench-pressing everywhere. Come to think of it, pretty much everybody talks Middle Ages here.

But anyway.

Afterwards, I sat myself down in a group of about sixteen men who had been in the employ of the Redmatt for as long as anyone could remember. They were gathered around a small fire, roasting strips of venison on sticks. I plunked down on a log and started talking-

"Can you guys believe it? A real spy. This is, by far, the most ridiculous thing I've heard all week."

One guy (he called himself Rumo) spoke up. "Everything changes, princess."

"But we trust everyone here! Each man has taken an oath, they've sworn to serve Leslan!"

(I really should've shut up right then)

"It is amazing what someone will do when offered their wildest dreams."

Note- when a grown man gets a funny look on his face, run the other way.

Rumo stood up and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. A casual, ordinary movement. But pair that with the fact that the rest of the group was doing the same thing...

"What would you have done when you were offered anything you ever desired? Hmm? He told us the truth. We all know that this war is pointless. Your precious little rebelion is like a bug under his boot. You shall be crushed. But we are wise- Xiivu will protect us!"

Sixteen swords were drawn, and Rumo charged with a yell scarier than a roaring lion. I drew my own weapon (a double-blade; pure steel with a jutting piece called a sword-catch and a bronze dagger sticking out the other end of the hilt) and parried his strike.

It was madness. Sword after glinting sword swung toward my neck. I dodged, parried, thrusted and was slowly backed against a tree. There was no way that I could take them all on. Finally, my sword was knocked out of my hand, and Rumo stood above me, sword ready to cleave my head from my shoulders...