There were lights waking towards the boy, not the lights of morning, but of fire.

Black smoke belched from the chiefs palace in the hills.

What was happening?

The boy snuck back to the village to get a better view, but stopped in his tracks to hide behind a stone wall, as horned warriors filled the streets from the palaces direction.

As they arrived at the towns square the boy could make out that a warrior at the front carried an impaled head on a spike.

The boys heart nearly stopped, it was a trick!

They said to give us 2 days, but raided the very same night and they won, the palace was burning and now they came for us.

He couldn't imagine that the fear of being hunted by his brothers could be surpassed, but it was on the very same night.

All he could do was watch as the warriors brought his people out of their houses and rounded them up in the towns square.

He had his head barely over the wall he was cowering behind, but still his hearth stopped at every glance cast in his direction, even though his head was nothing but a speck of black in the distance to the invaders at the square.

As most people were driven out of their houses the invaders began separating the man from the women, one of the man protested to much, so the warriors brought him to his knees with a kick in his legs, and before the boy could understand, a sword was lifted and separated the mans head from his shoulders. The women started screaming, and the man shouting, but the invaders moved to the next man and the next till the screams filled the nights air.

The boy had to take hold of the wall, for his head was spinning so fast, even as he knelled he almost fell over.

This was not a dream he knew, but his sense of reality was so put in question that he almost lost consciousness.

He had to physically grab his head and sank down behind the wall.

From the distance he heard yelling, different from the screams before, two booming voices were entangling, so he dared to take a look.

It was the bold man who negotiated with the elders earlier, he was screaming at the man in charge of the beheadings, the boy couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could discern that the bold warrior was angry about what had happened.

Then the boy almost fell backwards as the bold man pointed directly at him.

For a brief moment of shock he thought his hiding place was discovered, but he noticed the bold man wasn't looking at him just pointing and so the boy follow where his finger pointed at.

To his surprise he pointed towards the place he knew to be his home, and he had to double take a he noticed the thick black column of smoke arising from the direction.

The boy ran, he took the direct route, through the muddy fields, his legs were sinking in mud clinging to his legs, but at least he was out of the invaders sight, who only patrolled the streets.

The boy knew the best paths to stay hidden and he ran them like never before.

As he bolted out of the underbrush, he faced what he already suspected.

His house was engulfed by flames and there he stood the horned warrior with the scar upon his face laughing at the boys burning family.

Before he knew what he was doing the boy bolted at him.

The boy hit the unsuspecting warrior with full force and both rolled down the hill towards the shore.

The warrior was taken by surprise and his helmet was lodged over his eyes.

His sword lay on the ground beside him, the boy grabbed it and jumped on the struggling warrior, he aimed the blade over his chest and stabbed down, but his trust wasn't hard enough and it just punctured the cuirass and shallowly stabbed his chest, their eyes meet and the warrior smiled for he thought the boy couldn't do it and was about to swat him away.

The boy, stopped at first by the resisting bone of the sternum, felt a surge of energy going through him and an unknown desire to drive the blade home.

His second thrust of the sword was only blocked by the earth beneath the warrior.

Their wide open eyes meet, both dead man and living boy looked at each other in surprise.

As the boy released the swords hilt from his grip, he felt drained as if all his strength was spent in this thrust.

He limply slid off the soldiers chest and tried taking his knife, an almost impossible task for his hands were numb and the knife felt like it weight more then the sword before.

The inside of the boys head felt like an invisible gauntleted fist was grabbing and twisted his brain with a cruel iron grip.

As he tried to stagger away he realized he was surrounded by horned warriors gazing at him in amazement.

Knife in hand he enter a fighting stance, ready to be struck down by their blades, but the men didn't move.

As the tense silence continued the boy almost wished, one of them would finally come forth, but nothing happened. It felt like an eternity until finally someone came forth.

It was the bold warrior, who had made his way to the front.

He walked up to the boy and in one swift move gripped his hand holding the knife and twisting it in a way, the boy had to let go.

He knelt down beside him and put his head right next to the boys ear.

"There is a way you will survive the night, you will follow me to my ship and you stay there. I will talk to you in the morning."

The warrior rose and walked off, the boy followed in his step, the other warriors moved of their way only their gazes following them.

The bold warrior stepped onto one of the ships at the shore.

There was a canvas tent at the end of the ship, the bold warrior opened it and waited for the boy to enter, as the boy did, he closed it behind him.

After that there was much talking to be heard from outside the tent, but in tongues the boy didn't understand, through the canvas he saw the torches flames and the warriors shadows stretched across the tents yellowish walls.

Turning away from the outside the boy realized he couldn't make out anything inside the room, but black silhouettes.

So he kneeled down and crawled over the floor, carefully feeling the space in front of him, until he found what seemed to be a bed.

It was made of the same canvas the tent walls were made of, only wrapped around a bail of hay which was tied together by ropes.

He sat down on it and stared at the walls waiting for the bold warriors shadow to appear before the door.

As time passed the boys vision adjusted to the darkness in the cabin, the silhouettes became more and more pronounced, but the shadows remained mysteries, as was no able to identify them.

One time he had visited the chiefs palace and he had seen incense burners covered in the patterns his peoples potters painted, the things surrounding him reminded him of those, but these much more fantastical with wild forms and strange beasts and men resting upon them, from the way glinted in the torches meager light, the boy could also tell they were not made of tin or copper, but of gold.

He tried to occupy his mind with the mystery of the things around him, but he could not hold these thoughts, he always bounced back to the one question.

Why was the bold man not returning?

After a while the boy couldn't sit anymore his back ached and he was cold, but he didn't dare move, he feared if he produced noise, the voices outside would stop and burst into the tent to strike him down.

The boy noticed an animals skin laying on the ground, he fought with himself, contemplating if he should dare pick it up.

As the cold from the mud covering his legs, bit deeper into his skin, he slowly extended his arm trying to balance his weight as to not produce noise.

But before he could reach there was a creaking from the ships planks.

His body froze, petrified he waited for the shadows to notice him, but nothing happened, so he continued and took the blanket, now he was warmer, but still uncomfortable.

He saw a space between a barrel and the tent wall, he imagined himself sitting there, he could see the door from there just as well as from the bed, but felt the corner was much more hidden.

The thought of a hiding place comforted him, but he would have to move.

It had been quite outside for a while now, he had to be careful not to produce too much sound.

He dared it for his back was hurting very much by now.

He carefully walked over, freezing at every creak his steps produced, when he arrived he cowered down in the corner, the animal skin covering his body, he had the door in sight, he promised himself to be vigilant, but as nothing happened at all, neither inside nor outside the tent, he felt overwhelmed by fatigued and he fell asleep.