Queen of Embers

XVI. A Midnight Grab

The third sentry died without a sound, an arm around his throat stopping all air as he was stabbed through the diaphragm. The next stabs came through the back, placed to sever the great internal veins and arteries so that he would bleed out internally more than spraying everywhere. He struggled a moment in the iron grip, but it was not enough. Zhou was still pulling on the tabard from the last one as Vipsania finished her ruthless execution.

Sorne already wore a stolen tabard. She trusted that Vridash would have a good overlook point now that they'd removed the sentry overlooking the camp. He was most dangerous at range and she was betting on his skill with this little gambit. The others would cause havoc while Sorne, Vipsania, and Zhou snagged the leader. Well, she was also betting on Zhou's integrity: he was still an untested ally.

Treat someone better than they are, Murdak said sometimes. Then they will be better.

The western woman stripped her victim of his tabard and then pulled it on. They were in sight of the command tent, though shadows concealed their position. All three of them studied their next hurdle. "We will be making noise, one way or another," the western woman observed quietly, before stashing the body just out of sight. They would be discovered before long, though hopefully that would be less of an issue with the main attack distracting people. They had a very small window of time to make their grab while people were still unaware.

"True," Zhou conceded. "Still, it was a fine plan, getting us this far."

Sorne adjusted the way her shield hung on her back. "I'll grab him."

"I was hoping you would say that, my friend," the former thief said with a grin. "I am not so skilled at the heavy lifting."

Vipsania hesitated a moment. "I could carry him," she said. "You are a more capable combatant than I."

If Sorne knew anything about herself, it was that she wasn't an excellent strategist. She stepped around the back of the tent. "You cut, I'll grab," Sorne whispered.

Vipsania's knife punctured the fabric quietly, but there was no way to cut effectively and quietly. There was a sharp ripping sound. Sorne didn't hesitate. She surged into the tent, right near where his cot sat. She grabbed the half-asleep man by the throat and pulled him out into the darkness. His guards were undoubtedly a second away, so she let go for a split second and punched him in the gut hard enough to drive his breath from his body. Sorne slung him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and ran, Vipsania and Zhou on her heels. Unshiir came to her with a few muttered words, the rhythm growing and locking almost automatically.

Almost as if on cue, panicked shouts started to come from the east and south sides of camp, courtesy of Ibarra and Ezkibel troops. Guards sprinted after the infiltrators, only to be punished by long, lethal arrows from the hilltop. Vridash's aim was excellent even in the dark. Sorne muttered a quick thanks for orcish eyes.

"They have the Duke!" someone shouted from behind. Sorne, Vipsania, and Zhou didn't stop to look and see.

"Oh good," Zhou said with a grin. "It was the Duke we grabbed."

The man in question was cursing and struggling, but Sorne's shoulder was pounding air from his lungs on every step, something that was entirely intentional. When he tried to kick free, she grabbed his leg and dug her fingers into the back of his knee, earning a yelp. She didn't want to harm him, but there was no real way to avoid it at this point.

It was like they'd kicked a beehive. Suddenly, people were getting up everywhere, all of them going for weapons. Their stolen tabards prompted confusion, but only for a second. The three running capitalized on the temporary hesitation and moved as quickly as possible towards the north, where the forest was thickest and their archer had set up. Hue and cry went up across camp, though not all of it was directed at the three of them. A sudden battle prompted mass confusion: Garaia's men were tired and they'd come this far without any sign of a threat. No one even knew who was attacking the camp.