Rayne knelt in the middle of the wheat field, breath fogging in the chill of the night. It was almost midnight, and the moon, obscured by thin clouds, was almost directly overhead, providing barely enough light to illuminate the surroundings.

  Fortunately, [Umbral Sight] helped as he watched the men around him

  Ahead, the barns lay ahead. But they had been transformed into a deserter camp now. Firelight was everywhere and tents sprawled across the premises. Through the flames, he could barely make out a few sentries keeping watch.

  But he couldn’t keep watching as a familiar voice pulled his attention again.

  “I really don’t know how this plan is going to work,” Jeff said in a hushed voice. “There are so many variables. What if something goes wrong?”

  “You have asked that twice already. You were there when Captain Baker agreed to the plan,” Nate replied, and Rayne could barely make out a glare directed at the deputy.

  “It doesn’t mean I can’t doubt it.”

  Rayne sighed, looking to his left where the voice came from. “I don’t think there’s time to doubt anymore. Just follow the plan. Take out the sentries, light up the tents and barn, and hope that none of them notice us before time.”

  “The plan doesn’t end there though,” Jason said, his burly face the most noticeable in the darkness.

  “Yes,” Rayne replied. “But we need to trust John and Kesh to do their part.”

  “They better do so, or I’m going to haunt them and their descendants for eternity.”

  Rayne didn’t reply. His plan unrolled in his head for one last time. He only had the skeleton of it when he had brought it to Captain Baker, who had added a good amount of meat to it, unexpectedly being willing to act on it.

  They had divided the garrison forces in two, leaving behind only the rookies that had been added to the post only recently to guard the town. Rayne led one, and Captain Baker led the other, which would strike from the rear. Once the tents were burning and the camp was a furnace, that would be the signal for the forces to slowly converge and take out the deserters that would come out of their shelters all panicked and confused.

  As for Marcus, taking him would depend on Kesh, John, and a whole lot of luck. Luck that Rayne hoped he had tonight.

  “Let’s move,” he said and crawled up to the men ahead of them.

  Jason and Nate joined him from the side, and their kneeling positions soon turned into a full prone as they reached closer and closer to the camp. Far enough for the wheat fields to hide them, but close enough to make out the sentries that now sat near the campfire.

  There were two of them, both eating pieces of jerky while yawning and talking to each other. He could make out the standard Valerian armour on their bodies, coated with dried blood.

  Both looked far too casual to be sentries. But Rayne guessed that the deserters felt no threat now. They even had more sentries around Bricksall and the path leading to Fort Algar that could inform them of any danger.

  Unfortunately for them, they were already taken out by Baker’s scouts.

  “Looks like easy takeouts,” Nate said, glancing at him. “Should I move?”

  “Yes, you and Jeff will move from the other side and take them out together. I will have archers ready to aim in case things go wrong,” Rayne replied, looking back at the men at the back with bows in their hands—Heins and Welix among them.

  “They won’t,” Nate replied and patted Jeff on the back, who slowly got up.

  Nate slid forward like a shadow made solid, Jeff right behind him. All his doubts seemed to have faded away, and he stepped with the precision of a veteran. The whole thing happened in the blink of an eye.

  Nate came up behind the first sentry and wrapped his hands around the man’s throat. There was a quick, strangled gasp, muffled and brief, then nothing. The man slumped, crumpling into the ground like a puppet with cut strings, then a blade came for his throat to finish the job.

  The other sentry got up, pale, and opened his mouth to scream when Jeff’s hand closed on the man’s shoulder and forced him forward; a blade kissed the throat, and the man went rigid, then slack. It happened as fast as a candle snuffed by a gust.

  Rayne couldn’t help but notice how efficient Nate had been. The man had killed before.

  “Let’s move,” Jason said.

  He gave one last look around, seeing no sentry around, and their group of a dozen slowly rose out of the wheat fields, moving to join the two that were moving the corpses to the fields.

  Once they were done, they moved deeper into the camp.

  Rayne slipped through the gap between tents, heart thudding in his ears. Nate and Jeff went ahead, moving towards the firelights in this part of the camp to take out the sentries on duty, and while they did so, he and the others pointed their blades at the tents.

  They entered the quiet ones with men sleeping inside of them and took each one out. Rayne saw Jason’s dagger stab into a sleeping man’s thorax while he did the same with another one on the side, a man barely into his twenties.

  His hands trembled as he went for the kill. But just the sight of the hanging corpses was enough for him to know that each man here was akin to a monster.

  Once they were done, they got out to an alarming scene of an enemy struggling with Heins and two other men on the ground. Before the whole operation could fumble, Jason charged, taking out his axe. It bit right into the man’s neck, killing him in one blow. Blood sprayed everywhere, and one of their men lurched and vomited on the ground.

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  But their positions hadn’t been given away.

  “Let’s wait for Nate and Jeff to return. We can’t take more risks,” he whispered, and the others nodded around him.

  The night’s chill cooled his brain, but his anxiety kept climbing up until the silhouette of Nate and Jeff appeared from out of the fields on the left. Both of their blades were bloody alongside their armour and faces. But they seemed to have done the job.

  “There were six sentries around this side,” Jeff whispered, then paused as his eyes landed on the gruesome sight of the mangled corpse. He frowned. “I fucking told you all to be careful.”

  “We weren’t found out and took out more men. I believe we should start the second phase of the plan. The others should be done with the sentries too.”

  Jeff looked like he wanted to argue but simply sighed and nodded.

  Rayne moved to the nearest tent and produced a small skin of oil they’d brought for exactly this reason. He worked quickly, tipping the slick liquid along seams and between folds where canvas would drink it like tinder.

  The others did the same with more tents, hands steady despite the chorus of chaotic shouts that came out suddenly from across the camp as tents lit up in flames and men realized they were under attack. Somewhere toward the centre, a startled voice bellowed.

  Just then, a spark leapt from stones flicking together, found the oil-slicked fibre, and in a heartbeat black smoke ate the air.

  The first tent burst into a hungry orange. Flame licked the canvas, and erupting light turned the night to noon for an instant. Men spilled out, blinded by smoke, cursed, and staggered.

  That quick, choked cry of fire hit everyone. A man’s hair caught and sizzled as he rolled out of the tent, screaming. An arrow took him in the head, ending his suffering.

  The central fire snapped once, then roared as wind found it and fed it, sparks spewing like embers from a dragon’s throat.

  Panic crashed through them like a wave. The camp was no longer an organized line of men; it was a living thing convulsing. Shouts overlapped: orders, cries, the metallic chorus of weapons struck against harnesses. Men ran, tripped over the flailing, tripped over one another.

  In that disorder, Rayne’s team struck.

  Arrows were loosed instantly, taking men right in their vitals. The ones that managed to escape them met blades. One of the enemies charged right at Rayne with a spear as soon as he came out of the tent.

  He blocked it with his shield, pushed the man back with a kick, and he was sent sprawling back into the flames. His cries rose in the air as flames engulfed him.

  Rayne aimed a dagger at his throat to end him. Notifications buzzed in the back of his mind, but he ignored them. Around him, more and more enemies were battling his own men.

  There were more men around this part of the camp than he had expected. But none of them seemed to be really high-level despite fighting in the frontlines, and the sudden attack and panic decided their deaths before the battle even began.

  Most of them had even come out unarmed in plain clothes, and he even saw one man charging right through the wheat fields in just his underwear. Rayne didn’t keep looking.

  He bashed his shield on the head of one man, knocking him down and slashing across his neck. Then, he blocked the path of a startled man holding a dagger.

  The man charged towards him, aiming for his neck, but in his panic, he tripped over a rock and fell face-first on the ground. Rayne’s blade punched through his lower back, bone grating against metal before he left him to bleed.

  The death count increased in their favour every second. He saw Jeff punch a man straight in the face, stumbling him right back into the tent that collapsed over him. Jason charged through the camp like a berserker, his axe cleaving through three men, all armed, in a matter of seconds. In the flash of the heat, he looked like a mad god.

  Welix and Heins worked with three more soldiers in their formation, blocking the path of any deserter that tried to run while Nate’s sword hung loosely at his side and he mercilessly stabbed and jabbed at everyone in his path.

  It was chaos. Chaos that worked in their favour. The intense heat rained on everyone, and in a matter of minutes, the ground was slicked with blood.

  As Rayne cut across the shoulders of another deserter who tried to bash a shield on his head and kicked him back inside the flames, he noticed that they had killed everyone in this part of the camp.

  Hearing the notification of another kill, he shouted, “Let’s push to the centre. Captain Baker should be waiting for us there!”

  Incoherent shouts came out of his men, and he immediately led the charge to the centre of the camp where the barns were. Their plan had been to converge right there after taking care of the tents.

  And by how much smoke was coming out of the other side, Rayne was sure they had been equally successful.

  Now, they only had one threat left.

  “Do you think it will work?” Jason suddenly asked, running right next to him.

  “I think it’s too late to ask that,” he replied after a beat. “It needs to work, or we will all be dead by dawn.”

  Jason nodded, the grip on his axe handle tightening. Then he looked at him. “Yes, but whatever the case, I really loved being part of this battle with you. You are a good leader, Rayne.”

  The barn lit up in flames just before Rayne could reply. He looked ahead, seeing the whole building burning and more smoke filling the camp. The sound of blades clashing against each other and screams came as they headed deeper.

  Sadly, he couldn’t tell who the voices belonged to.

  Finally, they reached the centre of the camp and paused.

  The scene in front of him wasn’t one he had expected or hoped for. Lines of deserters stood in formation facing Captain Baker and his men. He saw Quinn among them, a strained expression on his face as he battled against a man with a halberd.

  They were far more organised here, and he could tell at a glance that these men were far higher-level than the ones they had killed. But out of all of them, his eyes only stayed on one.

  A man moved through the line of garrison members like a panther, his blade burning with flames and wind rustling around his legs. With each swing of his blade, blood erupted and men fell to the ground. As he paused, Rayne took a better look at his appearance.

  Blond hair, average height, with a nasty scar going across his nose and cheeks. More scars were there on his neck. And he held a giant sword that looked far too big and heavy for him.

  Marcus.

  Rayne didn’t have to second-guess his name.

  As they watched, Marcus finally turned to him, his eyes squinting in a glare before his lips curled up. “More men for me to slaughter. Let’s see how long you all will last,” he said, voice heavy with bloodlust.

  Then, without warning, he rushed straight at them, the burning flames of his sword casting a glow on Rayne’s face.

  Panic welled up inside of him, and he raised his shield, bracing for impact. And one thought reverberated inside his mind.

  Where the fuck were Kesh and John?

  ***