Chapter 71. The Boy

JACOB

The old man had escaped from his cell, and one of my men lay bleeding on the ground, impossible to save. I looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen, as if he had vanished into the vastness of the night. The soldiers who remained had their doubts as time passed, with at least half of them uncertain about what to do.

“That damned man,” the interrogator said, disgusted. “Now all these guys will think he had magic when, most likely, he convinced the guard to approach the cell and then killed him to get the key.”

It made perfect sense. The interrogator was very skeptical, and above all, he was extremely bloodthirsty. The old man’s escape was a disgrace to him, and he seemed to condemn himself in his own eyes.

Suddenly, a jolt of panic overtook me, and I cursed myself. I had forgotten about the boy. I ran to his tent as the rest of the men finished preparing to leave for the city as quickly as possible.

When I arrived, I saw the bloodstains and sens