Siege (The Pack/Team Crafted)

Chapter Four

"It's dark here. I don't like it. Why can't I light it up?" Preston complained.

They were - thankfully - walking their horses into the Asumé woods. Rob had been trying to convey the fact that they needed to keep quiet and subtle, but Preston was having none of it.

"Do you want every Asumén warrior within twenty miles to find us?" He snapped.

"It would be a hell of a fight," the necromancer grinned, "and primie blood is exactly what I need."

Rob sighed. "It's a death sentence is what it is, now shut the fuck up and just look."

Preston huffed, but fell quiet. His gaze darted between and over trees, generally just looking at whatever "interested" him at that particular moment.

His silence didn't last long.

"Do you think we'll meet anyone we need to meet?"

"We wouldn't be here if we didn't have to be," Rob reasoned. "This place gives me nightmares... The natives aren't too friendly, either."

"They're just primies," Preston laughed. "We're more likely to get diseases from them than actually get hurt."

Of course he's racist, Rob sighed to himself. Of course he is.

"They're fierce warriors is what they are. They don't give diseases. They're still human," he pointed out. Preston just laughed, shaking his head. "If that doesn't shut you up, the fact that we're traveling with two of them might. One of them comes from these woods."

The necromancer's face screwed up. "You're joking. I'm not talking to either of them. I bet they don't even know English."

"They're both fluent," Rob sighed, "but I do suggest you keep quiet around them. One seems to be shy, but the other will bite your head off. He was at the top of the ranks for most killed in the war."

Once again, Preston shut up.

"That's what I thought..."

The two fell silent. Rob was lost in his thoughts and, seeing Preston's bizzare mental state, it was impossible to say what was on his mind.

After a while, Rob totally tuned Preston out. He didn't even think of him until a light finally popped up, encasing them in brightness.

"There!" He chirped, finally peering into the woods.

"Are you crazy?" Rob hissed. "Take it down, or you'll get us both killed!"

"We can fight anything that comes our way," Preston shrugged dismissively, kicking Mors into a trot. Gritting his teeth, Rob urged Enfer on, just managing to keep up.

"You're going to bring the Asuméns right to us... I just hope you manage to attract the right one."

"Yeah, right. They're primies. They're scared of fire," Preston chuckled, grinning as he looked around. "And I'm certainly not opposed to killing a few. They'd make good slaves."

"You're crazy... They aren't scared of--"

Rob didn't get a chance to finish. He could see the shadows on the trunks of trees. Reaching forward, he grabbed Preston's arm. "Turn it off!"

"No, why would I..."

They both fell quiet as the Asumén warrior stepped from the shadows. His eyes were dead, devoid of emotion. Blood splattered over his scarred face and waraxe, which he dragged behind him.

"H-He doesn't look alive," Preston stuttered, reaching for his blade.

"You don't say?" Rob snapped, slinging the bow he carried off his shoulder. His fingers went to grab an arrow from his quiver.

"I'm quite alive," the warrior grumbled. "But you aren't going to be for much longer."

His words were slightly slurred, but his English was structured well enough. Rob hesitated, gesturing for Preston to stay on his horse.

"You don't happen to be or know Jerome Aceti, do you?" He asked, gathering up Enfer's reins, preparing to make a run for it.

"I am," the warrior said simply. Rob noticed the pale hand gripping his wrist, holding him back and keeping him still.

"I'm Robert Latsky, this is Preston Arsement. We were... looking for you."

Jerome glanced up at them, studying them. "Very well. A message of peace?"

"Yes," Rob nodded. "As far as I know, you were looking for Lachlan Power."

"I-I'm here," a smaller voice said. Another primitive stepped out, his tall figure and pale skin a clear marker of his Nguŷen heritage.

"Good. We just have two left, then. No hard feelings?"

Jerome tilted his head, eyes sweeping over him. Rob felt a shiver creep down his back.

"No hard feelings. I'm assuming you know where the others are?"

"One, a thief. He's in Jüjar. I don't know where the assassin is."

Jerome bristled. "An assassin? They're unlawful! No sense of respect or morality."

Preston spoke for the first time with a muttered, "You're one to talk."

Rob tensed, ready to separate the two, but Jerome didn't seem to care.

"Yes, an assassin... I didn't have much say in the matter," he sighed. "The Crux's head member demanded we take his apprentice with us, saying that the League had as much say any Supreme or Primitive court."

"They're just sending an apprentice?" Jerome blinked. "Then why don't we just kill him and make it look like an accident?"

Rob shook his head. "We don't exactly have that choice. If anyone dies, it isn't going to look good." He shot a glance at Preston, who just glared in return. "Anyways... We should probably be heading towards Jüjar, no?"

Jerome nodded. "I suppose so... Lead the way."