UPTURNED SOIL

The sentry died with barely a gurgle. Camoe lowered him to the ground, a soft thump the only indication something was amiss. No one would hear the soldier’s lone death; the guards on either side had been slain just as quietly. He waited until Peers and Long Draught coalesced out of the shadows beside him. He did not have to look behind to know Kerna’s wonderful vision perused the area they had cleared. Girth, with his axe, would keep watch over her and their planned escape path.

Moving hunched over, they slipped through the meadow without a rustle in the spongy grass. Over halfway to the two darkened tents lit by flickering torchlight from stands placed on each side of the entrance, they came upon two soldiers in the third sentry ring lying dead, side by side, in the grass. Tarn lay on his belly not far away and gazed at the tents. They dropped to the ground beside him.

Camoe kept his voice low as he took in the surroundings. “Have you seen a young woman yet?” The armored shoulder of a soldier stood out prominently beside the smaller of the two tents. Three people conversed beyond a fire too far away to overhear.

Tarn turned to him sharply. “We came here after a young woman?”

The astonishment in Tarn’s voice surprised Camoe. “Yes, she has auburn hair.”

“There is someone else here you know well with that color of hair. Look past the fire,” Tarn whispered.

Leaning toward Tarn, Camoe looked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the moon’s light. A hooded man with silver bands on his bare biceps spoke with a man and a woman. The silver bands identified the Alchemist though he had not met the man in person. The Green Writhe had transacted with the man in the past, not all of it good.

The other man he did not recognize, nor would he forget if he had—his thinning hair, going white, seemed out of place for his toned physique.

The woman shifted her demure stance; the shadowed light of the moon illuminated one side of her features with a blue-white radiance. Camoe’s breath escaped him.

He did know the woman well, though he was not certain how he felt about it. He should have deduced where Kara Laurel had stolen off to after Maialene… though he decided it did not matter. Not now, not with the mission. “Stay focused, look for a young woman, find her,” he hissed, his voice more abrupt than he intended.

Kara Laurel suddenly dashed away from the two men. Briefly, Camoe wondered where she was going.

The two men strolled to a fire where several soldiers stood in a line leading to a large cook pot. The two men did not stand in line. The soldier ladling from the kettle grabbed the bowls from the nearest waiting soldiers and handed them to the two men.

An armored soldier strode away from a large tent, going over to the hooded man without deviation. Camoe’s breath caught in his throat. Jade followed him. Thank Onan, she still lives.

The soldier moved Jade in front of him, and after a time, he relinquished his hold on her arm. The tall man with thinning brown hair escorted her back toward the tent she had come from, placing a bowl in her hands before they moved out of sight.

Camoe touched Tarn lightly on his back, signaling a withdrawal. Tarn did the same to Peers, and Peers to Long Draught. As one, they crawled backward away from the torchlight, melting into the shadows to a place out of sight of the activity of the fire and away from the unwanted eyes of the sole remaining guard at the large tent.

Camoe drew them all close, huddling together. “Our target is the largest tent closest to the guarded perimeter where they will keep her after she is fed.” He gripped Tarn’s shoulder lightly. “Go now and use the next half bell to cut a quiet entrance in the back, it should be less bright with moonlight by then. Do not go inside until I give you leave.” Tarn slipped from his grip and faded away.

“Long Draught, you shall have to wait at midpoint. Find a depression and become a false layer of meadow grass. Should you have no choice, remove any sentries coming to relieve those that were on patrol, those half-spears you carry should do the work quietly. With luck, we still have a couple bells before that happens. I want each and every one of us well away from here, by then.”

“Leave it to me,” Long Draught said. He too, slipped into the shadows.

“Peers, we shall wait a quarter of a bell, permitting Tarn a head start, any concerns?” Silence answered his question. His respect for his companions grew. All of them were aware the longer they remained inside the enemy encampment, the greater the risk of discovery, yet no one had bothered to voice the concern. They were professionals and better followers than he deserved.

Time passed excruciatingly slow.

Finally, Camoe judged they had waited long enough. “Let us begin, Peers.” Slipping into the darker shadows whenever possible, Camoe moved from grass clump to grass clump, depression to depression, crawling whenever the blanket of dim light was unavailable, most of the way. The moonlight grew brighter. While the light of a full moon made for great viewing of the enemy, it also left him feeling exposed.

Fifty steps from their destination, he stood, walking boldly to it from a rear angle. Trampled, likely intentionally, the lack of cover left him little choice. Peers stood and strolled with him.

They made it to the relative safety of the shadows at the rear of a tent. Tarn allowed the curved piece of canvas he had cut to fall on the ground as soon as they arrived. Light brightened the ground around the cut.

Drawing his sword, Camoe signaled Tarn to wait ten counts and dove inside. After rolling to his feet, it took but a moment to know he was alone. Two candles mounted on the center pole illuminated every corner of the square, fair-sized tent.

Peers sprang inside behind him, a dagger clamped in his teeth.

Disappointed there was no Jade, Camoe padded to the tent flap and looked out. The blackness outside was too deep to see through. Then the darkness shifted as someone raised the tent’s flap and stepped inside.

Camoe wrapped his arm around the person, his sword pressing against a thick neck. “Make a sound and you die,” he whispered, putting his lips close to a black hood. The man froze, presumably feeling the metal of his sword at his throat. A silver armband glinted by candlelight as the man dropped his arm to his side. “Go to the back of the tent. A single false action shall result with your death.”

Taking delicate steps, the man complied, stiffening a little when he noticed Peers standing guard by the hole. Camoe shoved him over to it, a vague idea forming in his mind. “Tarn?” he called with a whisper.

The reply came just as quietly from outside the tent. “I am here.”

“We are coming out but not alone. Watch for treachery.”

“Aye.”

Camoe glanced at Peers. “Stay close. If he makes a sound or deceitful move, silence him, even if you have to take me first.”

Peers answered by pulling both swords from his back sheath, holding one in each hand, to add to the one he had clamped his teeth over.

Satisfied, Camoe lowered the man to his knees and pushed him through the hole. Forced to put one hand awkwardly on the man’s back, he kept his sword somewhat in place as they crawled through without incident, glad to be on his feet again. The man seemed to want to cooperate, which made Camoe suspicious.

The candlelight leaking from the tent vanished as Peers came through.

An elbow slammed into Camoe’s stomach taking his breath and hunching him slightly forward, gaining the hooded man a small opening between Camoe’s sword arm and his neck. Wedging a hand between them, the hooded man slipped from his hold and dropped an object to the ground at Tarn’s feet where it broke with a soft splotch.

Sucking in a breath, Camoe rammed the hilt of his sword into the back of the hooded man’s head as he turned to flee. He collapsed in a heap.

Coughing quietly, Tarn bent over the fallen man. “He is breathing but unconscious.”

Camoe cursed low in his throat. “We cannot kill him and leave him here; I need him alive until he reveals the anomaly’s location.”

“What anomaly?” Peers whispered.

“I mean the young woman,” Camoe said softly. “Both of you get under his arms. I want it to seem as if he has swallowed too much drink. I shall take the lead, attempting to make it appear we are tossing him into the forest to sleep it off.”

Tarn and Peers lifted the comatose man to his feet and put a shoulder under each side. “That is a flimsy assumption if we are seen,” Tarn said. He coughed lightly.

“Then pray to Onan they do not see us,” Camoe said, striding boldly back the way they had come. His two men followed, dragging the hooded man between them. They were two of his best, as close to friends as he could have with the way life had set him on the solo path after losing Maialene.

Keeping the tents between them and the fire, they made it halfway across the meadow before losing the cover the tents provided. Without breaking stride, he risked a glance behind. No one stood at the campfires, and the soldiers guarding the large tent had vanished. What is going on? He did not need to know; as long as no one had discovered the man missing, whatever was happening provided a welcome distraction. Still, the faster they got to the trees the better.

Long Draught stood up almost under his feet, materializing tall, as if an aspen tree had sent a stalk nearly seven hands high shooting from the main root. The four-bladed half-spears he carried sheathed on his back added to the effect. “The burden shall lie with me from here,” he whispered. Bending at the waist, he folded the hooded man over a shoulder and dashed for the trees. Camoe and his two companions raced to keep up. As it was, they slipped into the evergreens at the same time, well behind Long Draught.

“I see no pursuit,” Kerna called softly as he passed her. She fell in behind them.

Long Draught slowed and then stopped a short while later where Girth waited watching the open meadow leading to Long Falls. They grouped around him. “He’s coming around,” he said.

“Has anyone packed hemp cord with them?” Camoe asked. “Kerna? Girth?”

“I kind of need what I have,” Girth said, patting at his waist.

Kerna passed a fair length to him. “All of you except our round one have not learned. How often has the need for it arisen during our journeys?” she chastised gently.

Camoe tied the captive’s hands together, handing the slack to Long Draught. “Set him down. He may be able to stand.”

“I can stand,” the hooded man hissed. “Do you not realize how foolish your actions are tonight? My generals will not rest until I am returned and all of you hacked to death.”

Long Draught and Girth chuckled, Tarn choked, and Kerna snorted at his words. Only Peers was silent.

Camoe cared not for the threat. “Your generals shall arrive too late to save you, it requires little time to kill a man. For now, I offer you continued life as long as you cooperate. I shall even consider releasing you for the outlander young woman in your possession.”

The hooded man raised his head high, his hourglass eyes glinting strangely bright in the moonlight. “So, druid, you too have knowledge of her great worth.” He laughed. “Yet you are too late. The anomaly has been sent to a secure place.”

In one motion, Camoe drew his sword and set the tip at the man’s heart. “You risk much elevating my ire. I shall ask you only once. Where have you taken her?”

The hooded man stepped forward, the tip pressing into his cowl. “Thrust quick and deep, druid. Her location dies with me.”

Girth moved beside Camoe, his axe free from its sheath. “Cut out his tongue or let me kill him. His voice and his life has little value to us. The young woman shall be tracked regardless of the deceptions that flow from his dark mouth.”

“What do you speak of?” Camoe asked.

“A regiment of horses passed through the north end of Silver Meadow over a half bell ago. A young woman and a man with two long swords strapped to his back rode behind the Captains Karnas and Bozlun,” Girth replied.

The hooded man’s flinch of surprise was only discernible as a small vibration through his sword. Camoe sheathed it and turned his back upon the hooded man. “Bring him. If he slows us down, even a little, kill him.”

Camoe took the lead. Slipping cautiously into Silver Meadow, he found what he sought almost immediately. The upturned soil from the tracks of many horses passing through was easy to spot. From the distance between the horses’ tracks, he judged them at a full gallop.

With the fires burning his beloved home flickering in the moonlit night behind him, he set off at run.

He did not have to look back to know his companions followed.