Chaos erupted like a kicked anthill. Shouts of "Alarm!" and "Thieves!" ripped through the slumbering camp, followed by the frantic blare of a horn. Lanterns flared to life, casting long, dancing shadows that turned the orderly rows of wagons into a chaotic maze of light and darkness.
Li and Mei moved with a shared, desperate instinct. They did not flee towards the open scrubland—that was a death sentence, a clear target for arrows in the suddenly brightening night. Instead, they dove deeper into the serpent's coils, into the heart of the camp itself.
They scrambled under wagons, their bodies pressed flat against the cold, packed earth. The smell of dust, ox dung, and the sweat of frightened men filled their nostrils. Boots pounded past, inches from their faces. Rough voices barked orders, converging on the now-empty special wagon.
"Spread out! Find them! They can't have gone far!"
Li focused on his breathing, on the frantic beat of his heart, forcing it to slow. He reached for the jade, not for power, but for calm. He couldn't afford the mountain's rage here; he needed the fox's cunning. He needed to be a ghost, a wisp of nothing.
Mei was already one step ahead. She pointed to a wagon laden with sacks of grain, its canvas cover sagging low. They slithered underneath, burying themselves in the narrow, dark space between the wagon's bed and the ground. It was a temporary refuge, a mouse hole in a world of hawks.
They lay there, hearts hammering, listening to the hunt swirl around them. Torchlight flickered through the gaps in the wagon above, painting stripes of orange light across their terrified faces.
"We can't stay here," Mei breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "They'll search every wagon at dawn."
Li nodded, his mind racing. They were trapped in a moving fortress. Their only hope was to become part of it.
He closed his eyes, extending his senses outward in the fine, focused thread Lao had taught him. He ignored the shouting men, the clatter of armor. He sought the simpler, more predictable minds. The oxen.
He found them, a line of slow, patient, grass-chewing consciousnesses tethered nearby. He poured a gentle suggestion from the jade, a whisper of unease, of restlessness. It wasn't a command, just a nudge.
A few of the great beasts lowed in complaint. Then one, then another, began to shift and stamp. A tethering post creaked under the strain.
"Quiet those beasts!" a soldier yelled, his voice frayed with stress.
The distraction was minor, but it was enough. In the moment the guards' attention shifted towards the unsettled oxen, Li and Mei moved again. They crawled from their hiding place and, keeping to the deepest shadows, made their way towards the center of the camp where the larger, more enclosed supply wagons were clustered.
They found what they were looking for near the command section: a wagon carrying spare canvas and rope, its contents a chaotic jumble. They clawed their way inside, burying themselves under the heavy, tar-smelling folds of cloth. It was stifling and dark, but it was a better hiding place.
For hours, they lay in the oppressive darkness, listening to the search continue. The initial frenzy died down, replaced by a sullen, systematic hunt. They heard soldiers checking under wagons, poking spears into piles of supplies. Once, the canvas at the front of their wagon was thrown back, and a torch was thrust inside. Li held his breath, feeling Mei go rigid beside him. The light played over the rolls of canvas mere inches from their faces, then withdrew.
"Nothing in here but sailcloth," the soldier grunted, and moved on.
Dawn arrived as a grey light filtering through the canvas. The caravan, after a night of disruption, began to stir back into motion. The order was given to move out. With groans of wood and the crack of whips, the great serpent began to crawl east once more.
Jolted into motion, their wagon lurched forward. They were moving, trapped inside the very machine that was carrying them towards their enemy.
The journey inside the wagon was a special kind of torture. The air grew hot and stale. The jolting and swaying was constant, nauseating. They dared not speak, communicating only with touches and gestures. They had a waterskin and a little food, but it wouldn't last long.
Through a small tear in the canvas, they took turns watching the world go by. They saw the landscape change, the scrubland giving way to harder, volcanic soil. The air took on a faint, sulphurous tang. They were getting closer.
On the second day trapped in the wagon, the caravan ground to an unexpected halt mid-afternoon. Shouts echoed, this time not of alarm, but of deference. "Make way! Make way for the Inquisitor!"
Through the tear, Li saw a party of riders trot down the line towards the command section. At their head was a woman. She wore the scaled armor of the Azure Cloud, but it was finer, more intricately crafted, and she wore no helmet. Her hair was bound in a severe, dark knot, and her face was sharp, intelligent, and utterly devoid of warmth. Her eyes, like chips of flint, scanned the caravan as if looking for imperfections.
"That's her," a nearby guard muttered to his companion, his voice hushed. "Inquisitor An. They say she can smell a lie a mile away. She's here about the theft."
Inquisitor An dismounted near the command wagon. The caravan master, a burly man sweating despite the cool air, bowed deeply before her. They spoke, their voices too low to hear, but Li saw the caravan master gesturing frantically, his face pale.
Then, Inquisitor An turned her head. Her flinty gaze swept across the line of wagons. It passed over their hiding place, and for a heart-stopping second, Li felt as if those cold eyes were looking directly at him, through the canvas, into the dark where he hid.
She did not stop. She turned back to the caravan master, issuing a sharp order. He bowed again, relief washing over his features.
The riders moved off, continuing down the line. The caravan began to move once more.
But the encounter left a new, colder fear in the stifling air of the wagon. They were not just hiding from soldiers. They were hiding from a hunter of a different, more dangerous kind. The Dragon Master's reach was long, and his servants were sharp.
That night, as the caravan made camp, Li and Mei knew their time was running out. The search had not been called off; it had simply become more patient. Inquisitor An's presence was a net being drawn tight.
"We have to get off this caravan," Mei whispered, her voice cracking with thirst and fatigue. "Before we reach the citadel. Before she finds us."
Li nodded, his own throat parched. The jade felt heavy against his chest, a burden now more than a boon. It had gotten them into this; it had to get them out.
He peered through the tear in the canvas. They were camped on a high plateau. To the north, the land fell away into a deep, rocky ravine, choked with thorny brush. It was a treacherous escape, but it was their only one.
"Tonight," Li said, his voice a dry rasp. "We go tonight."