Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 151

Chapter 151

Nataek had always thought of Shuran as the unstable element in Ur’s reconquest—unpredictable, liable to spark trouble at any moment—but that fear proved unfounded. Slipping past the Guti like an eel, Shuran found routes that kept them clear; not once did Nataek need to raise the bow he’d drawn at the slave barracks.

So he really is the hidden ally.

As Nataek watched in admiration, Shuran motioned.

“Can you hit that one?”

Narrowing his eyes where Shuran pointed, Nataek saw two Guti guarding the barracks entrance; Shuran indicated one.

“Yes. Leave it to me.”

“Good. At my signal—shoot and rush.”

Nataek gave a brief nod and set an arrow to the string with care. Grabbing Lagab’s bow on the way out had been a masterstroke. Stiffer than any bow he’d used, it still posed no problem after his training.

He turned the point to the target.

One shot to put him down…

After sweeping eye, shoulder, and belly, Nataek fixed on the guard’s neck. Shuran crouched into the brush, ready to spring.

“Three.”

He took aim.

“Two.”

Twang—

“One.”

Whip—

“Gh.”

The arrow struck dead center in the throat. As Nataek nocked again, Shuran burst out.

“Who—ghk!”

While Shuran neatly finished the other, Nataek loosed a second arrow. With both down, the two of them dashed inside.

“Who goes there!”

More Guti stood in the cramped corridor.

“Damn…!”

Shuran gripped his blade for a full-on charge; Nataek covered him with a steady stream of arrows. “Barracks” was a word; in truth, it was a prison. Ur men slumped together like convicts behind bars in narrow pens, faces pressing out at the noise.

“Lord Shuran!”

Recognition sparked joy across the faces. Nataek swept the scene—three Guti rolling on the floor in the corridor, and one limping in the distance with an arrowed leg, wary of him. He sent the last of his arrows after that one and urged,

“Open the doors—quickly.”

Even as he spoke, Shuran rifled Guti belts for keys and popped locks one by one; soldiers spilled out.

“Where’s the archer captain!”

“Lord Shuran! This way!”

A gravelly voice came from the far cell. Shuran ran to open it. Once the archer captain was freed, everything flowed. With no prompting, the soldiers grabbed anything usable as a weapon, formed up, and began filing out.

“Done. Now we go—move!”

Nataek and Shuran brought up the rear—when a stinging lash tangled Nataek’s body with a wet slap.

“Nh—what!”

“I knew it.”

A whip. The skin burned hot where it bit. Turning, he saw Sibiera.

“Lord Lagab said to keep a closer watch on the slaves.”

Nataek struggled, but the swords that could cut the thong were already in soldiers’ hands. Guti rushed in at Sibiera’s side.

“Drag him. If we don’t bring at least this one, we’ll lose our heads to Lord Lagab.”

The whip passed to a Guti who yanked hard; Nataek lost his footing and hit the floor, then was hauled along. Realizing there was no one at his back, Shuran doubled back—but too late. Nataek was bound like a fish on a line, the Guti reeling him in.

“Heh. Lord Lagab will be pleased.”

At this rate, Nataek would be hauled before Lagab. Begging Shuran for a rescue would be the Noge plan—sacrifice himself pointlessly and only endanger Shuran too.

Heavy screams sounded in the distance; both men looked that way. Ur soldiers, fleeing, had clashed with Guti who blocked them. A decision was needed. Nataek shouted,

“Go! I’ll manage this side somehow!”

Shuran’s jaw clenched. Nataek had time to devise a measure before facing Lagab—but the soldiers didn’t. If they were wiped out here, Ur’s reconquest would near failure. Practically, Shuran had to aid their escape, not save him.

“Now!”

With no choice, Shuran sprinted toward the screams. Sibiera jerked his chin to the Guti behind him.

“No need to keep that one alive. Kill him.”

All but the one holding the whip dashed after Shuran. Sibiera stepped in front of Nataek.

“My nose wasn’t wrong. Something about the one by your side smelled like Shuran.”

Nataek glared.

This bastard was the first to notice…

With sharp‑eyed enemies strewn everywhere, Ur’s reconquest being hard was only natural.

Is this really going to collapse…? If we can’t take Ur, what becomes of me? And before that—did things go well on Medeus’s end? Did he get out safely… what am I saying. Look at me—now isn’t the time to worry about that.

When Nataek gave a hollow laugh, Sibiera shot him a sour look.

“Bold enough to laugh?”

He slapped Nataek’s swollen cheek hard; already ruined by Lagab, it burned under even a single palm. Ridiculously, even here the luck points ticked down.

Hurts like hell, I’m taking every hit, and it’s still shaving luck—what next, saving my eardrums and eyeballs?

He sneered at the system, which, of course, offered no answer.

Maybe taking this Ur mission was a mistake. Maybe making Shuran and Nammuwa allies was a mistake—this might not have happened otherwise. Should I have found another way?

“Take him!”

Dragged on the whip, Nataek harvested regrets by the handful.

Is this my lot… can I make it back alive…

He counted the possible things Lagab might do—unspeakable acts, torture… execution? Fear surged as the thoughts multiplied. Rolling his eyes, he took stock: Sibiera in front, one Guti. With a bit of cunning, perhaps he could slip now…

He was just tallying escape chances when—

“Graaah!”

A heavy scream erupted ahead where the soldiers were running. Thudding—kunga hooves. Not one—two, three, no, at least a dozen. Night had fallen thick around them. Nataek, the Guti, and Sibiera all tensed.

Whip—!

An arrow zipped past Nataek’s side.

“Who goes there!”

Sibiera shouted; the Guti drew steel, eyes forward. Thud-thud—the kunga thunder grew.

Whip—!

“Urgh!”

A new arrow struck the Guti’s chest. The whip fell from his hand, and two more shafts followed, burying themselves in Sibiera’s and the Guti’s arms.

“Teresi!”

Riders burst forth—Medeus and cavalry from some quarter. Closer, they were all mounted on Uruk horses.

“Medeus!”

Bound in the whip, Nataek shouted.

You—how did you get here!

Relief crashed in with joy and fear. The galloping kunga swept past; Medeus’s long arm snatched Nataek up like a sack. Still wrapped in the whip, Nataek could only sprawl across the kunga.

“Fall back!”

At his command, the escorting riders wheeled. There was no time to hold him close or shift his position. In the distance, Guti massed, a wave rolling toward them.

The ground shook, screams rose on all sides. By luck, the sun had dropped early today. Ur’s forces bled as they withdrew, and Medeus’s party likewise, bearing Nataek, slipped through the dark and out of Ur.

Beyond the gates, a dark plain opened, star‑strewn above. Nataek turned his head to look up—like that day they fled Uruk under Guti assault. He remembered the night he lay under starlight as Medeus vowed to unify this land. Instead, the tide had turned against them. Phase one of the plan barely succeeded; phase two had become impossible.

Only on entering Uruk’s land did Medeus halt the kunga. Nataek exhaled long, alive. Medeus first loosed the whip binding him; the more knots fell away, the darker his face grew. Even under moonlight, the change was plain. His gaze lifted to Nataek’s cheek, traced philtrum and lips, and dropped to his jaw.

“Teresi.”

Nataek jumped in first.

“I’m fine.”

“…Fine?”

But Medeus’s voice shook without restraint. He cupped Nataek’s cheek; where the cool hand touched, the swollen skin radiated heat. His fingers now brushed the tip of Nataek’s nose and his lips, soft and careful. There, the wiped nosebleed and the blood from biting Lagab’s tongue had crusted into a mess. Medeus’s hand trembled.

Startled by the reaction, Nataek shifted instinctively to calm him, wanting to ask how he found him and to thank him. He hurried to explain.

“I really am alright. It looks bad outside, but inside, I’m fine.”

Medeus’s hand moved to Nataek’s chest; because he’d stripped in Lagab’s quarters, the whip’s wrap marks showed nakedly.

“This is fine too—just a light bruise.”

It wasn’t a lie. Perhaps thanks to the luck points, the skin was only marred with dark red lines—no blisters, no splits. He sighed with real relief; Medeus’s voice only grew wetter.

“‘Fine’… this… this is ‘fine’?”

“No bones broken. All things considered—M—Medeus.”

His brow thumped down onto Nataek’s shoulder.

“I said I’m alright.”

Flustered, Nataek patted his back. Behind them, the riders who’d aided their escape watched with odd looks. Nataek gave an awkward smile.

“Medeus. Truly—I’m fine. Please—stand up for a moment.”

Hey. I mean it—I’m alright. You brought me back whole. Just—up you get. People are staring! A commander has to mind appearances, doesn’t he?