Rose [Floated] as quickly as she could towards the command tent. Elsie had run off to the north after leaving her instructions. As she approached the four guards at the entrance of the tent, they crossed their spears.

  “I need to speak to whoever’s in charge.”

  An older guard spoke up, the odd golden strand among his white hair and beard.

  “Sorry,” he said, somehow standing even straighter than he had been, his beard bristling as if it were personally affronted. “We’re not allowed to disturb them. You’ll have to come back later.”

  “There won’t be a later,” Rose said. “We’re about to be attacked.”

  The guards had a look at her, then among themselves, then huddled together and whispered, thinking they were being discreet when she could hear everything.

  “The general said they weren’t to be disturbed at all,” one said.

  “Yeah, but what if she’s telling the truth?”

  “How would she know we’re going to be attacked?”

  “That’s a good point,” Bristles said, and looked at her. Then he raised his voice so she could really hear. “How do you know that we’re about to be attacked?”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again. She couldn’t tell them about Elsie. For one, Elsie wanted to keep her presence a secret. More pertinently, there was the small matter of trying to explain that she had got her information from a walking, somewhat talking doll that could fit into the palm of their hands.

  “I just know.”

  Bristles narrowed his eyes at her. The others were also clearly not impressed and they returned to standing upright, looking straight ahead, spears crossed across the tent entrance.

  “We’ll pass the message on,” Bristles said, “but I’m afraid you’ll have to return to the others for now. Thank you.”

  Back home, this wouldn’t have even been a discussion. Her name alone would have been enough. Unfortunately, her name meant nothing here. She’d need to get used to that. She recalled that moment in the hut back in town when Isabel had returned and the way she’d knocked the men’s heads together. A certain directness was also required here and though she didn’t have the kind of strength to do as Isabel did, she did have magic.

  She let mana flow into her through her pores, which she directed through the mana channels in her body toward her staff. The staff allowed her to manipulate the flows, and outline the intricate sigil details for the spell but using a Focus also diluted the spell’s strength. A part of her envied Elliott – the way he was able to effortlessly command mana, at levels she couldn’t even begin to fathom, in a fraction of the time it took her. But she wasn’t Elliott yet.

  She directed the mana into an area between the four guards, tracing lines, shapes and marks with the mana until she drew the last detail.

  [Concussive Wave]

  The four guards were knocked off their feet, the force throwing them several metres through the air, their metal armour clanging against their weapons as they fell back to the ground. It wasn’t a lethal spell by any means, but all four would feel a dull ache in their heads for several minutes. There was nothing she could do about that. Nothing she would want to either. She gave a curt smile to Bristles before she [Floated] through the unguarded entrance.

  The tent was bigger than any tent should be. Not that she’d ever spent time in one before, but it was as big as a good sized living room. A massive oak table dominated the room, with little pyramids and sticks scattered across its surface. To either side of the length of the table, five servant girls stood, trays of drink and food in their hands.

  On the other side of the table, chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle around the edges of the tent. Taalan sat in the middle, flanked equally on both sides by four men and two women in armour, with Korin stood before them. Daveran and the other two men from earlier, plus one other stood in pairs behind Taalan’s seat.

  “Taalan,” she shouted.

  All eyes turned to her. Had she been walking, she might’ve stumbled. There was a little jolt of…excitement bursting through her body. She’d never been so bold before, interrupting their meeting like that. On Earth, her name meant she never had to be. People became quiet when she entered and she’d never had to make them listen.

  An older man sitting to the right of Taalan frowned at her.

  “These damn guards are proving to be quite useless tonight,” he muttered, running a hand through his silver hair.

  “They tried to stop me but this was too urgent. We’re about to be attacked.”

  That got their attention. The armoured men and women sat upright, eyes focused on her.

  “What do you mean?” Taalan asked, getting up from his chair. The others followed his lead.

  “All I know is that there are six very strong people that will be here at any moment to kill everyone here and we need to run. One of them is heading for your camps to the north with some Bizaynian soldiers. The other five will be attacking here from the south.”

  “How do you know that?” an older lady on Taalan’s other side asked.

  “Let’s just say Elliott left a friend to protect you,” Rose said, though she pointedly kept her eyes on Taalan. Her heart was pounding. She’d never needed to hope someone believed her, but he knew what Elliott was capable of and it seemed he had some influence here.

  “Six people?” Taalan asked the two elders on either side of him.

  “It’s probably one of their Shadow squads,” the older woman offered.

  “That would make sense,” the older man replied. “Kill us and end the resistance. It would kill all hope for our people.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “How much time do we have?” Taalan asked Rose.

  “We should have gone already.”

  Taalan smiled at her forthrightness, before looking to the older man and woman at his sides. “Get it done. However you need to. Where are we going, Rose?”

  Heat rose to her cheeks and she swallowed. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to happen. She’d barged in and was so focused on getting them to listen, that she was now slightly mortified that they were looking to her for instructions. It wasn’t like she didn’t know where to go. It’s just that it dawned on her that for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure of her place.

  She wasn’t a noble. She wasn’t rich. She wasn’t powerful.

  These people weren’t looking to her because they were hoping to earn her favour. Or because they hoped to tell people they knew Rose Reese.

  For the first time in her life, all she really had were…her wits.

  “Rose…?”

  She looked at Taalan, eyes blinking several times. “Sorry. East for a bit and then towards your camps in the south?”

  Again, Taalan confirmed with the two elders close to him, as the other four men and women huddled closer. Whispers passed between them before a moment later, the six armoured men and women marched past her muttering among themselves as Taalan’s four guards gathered the servants and led them out of the tent.

  “Come, we’ll help guide the refugees,” Taalan said to her, Korin walking beside him as the others left. She nodded and followed the both of them outside, still hovering an inch or so above the ground as they walked.

  Outside, the camp was already in motion. Four of the six armoured men and women that had been in the tent, now stood among the soldiers, barking orders as the two elders – the man and the woman – looked on. Soldiers scurried among the tents, passing those orders on to others. Many had already grabbed just their weapons and begun to head east, leaving everything behind. Tents, beds, blankets, bowls. Speed was the key here.

  Dozens of soldiers were hurrying through the horses, hauling saddles onto their backs, the animals whinnying into the cold night air, as others untied them from the makeshift posts that had been planted into the ground. As soon as a horse was untied, it was led away towards the eastern side of the camp. Rose [Floated] alongside Taalan and Korin as they made their way through the organised chaos, soldiers brushing past them, until they reached the area where the refugees had gathered.

  Where there had been laughter and merriment a few moments ago, fear had returned to wide eyes. Mothers and fathers grabbed children as those who were able helped the infirm to flee as quickly as they could manage in the direction they were being shown by Taalan’s guards and the servants from the tent. Soldiers lined their path out of the camp, with other soldiers leading the way into the dark forest, torches held high above their heads serving as a focal point for the anxious civilians behind.

  Taalan and Korin began walking among the refugees in the camp, helping them up or finding their children who had a moment ago been running around, enjoying their short-lived freedom. Rose was about to join them when, a mile to the north of their camp, lightning burst through the sky, multiple long tendrils of light flashing through the air.

  Thunder roared in its wake.

  She had a feeling the attack was just getting started.

  “We need to go now,” Rose shouted. “Now!”

  Lyla jumped to her feet as the thunder cracked across the night sky. There were few clouds over the forest but none that spoke of rain and even less that spoke of storms. The Shadows turned their heads to the north. That lightning had not come from any cloud.

  “Why would he use a spell like that?” Talghar asked to no one in particular.

  “I don’t think he was striking at the camps. That lightning was nowhere near them,” Lyla said, eyes staring at the sky trying to figure out exactly where the strike had been.

  “I agree,” Danyll said. “He’s barely past the main camp.”

  “Perhaps he encountered Rhianians in the forest. Between the camps,” Urien offered.

  “Can’t be,” Aloise replied. “We cleared their scouting parties and we’ve been tracking them for days. At most, a party of four would be travelling between the camps. Nothing that would require such a spell.”

  She shared a look with her husband, Talghar, whose eyes were fixed on the clouds where the lightning had been seen. The lightning had struck only once, though it was multiple branches that struck the ground.

  “The plan continues,” Talghar said. “We go to the main camp from the south. Our element of surprise is gone, but it shouldn’t be an issue. Let’s get in, get the job done, and get back to town for a drink and a hot bath.”

  “What about Sagar?” Urien asked. “Shouldn’t one of us go and make sure he’s okay?”

  “I’m sure whatever it is, he has it under control.”

  “What if it’s the stranger?” Danyll said. “The one Lyla reported.”

  “All the more reason that we get the job done before we’re disturbed. Our mission is to kill the resistance. End the Rhianians once and for all. That’s the mission.”

  Talghar glanced towards the north again, before addressing the four of them.

  “Let’s go.”

  Each used their own abilities to increase their speed of movement as they ran as a unit – Talghar and Aloise at the front, Urien in the middle, Danyll and Lyla bringing up the rear. They headed south along the forest’s edge before cutting in between the trees. The camp lay a mile inside the forest from where they had been. They’d approach it from a few hundred metres to the south. Their footsteps were muffled, branches rushed past as they strafed left and right past the onrushing tree trunks.

  “Halt,” Danyll’s voice tore through the air and the five of them stopped as one. Lyla instinctively placed her hands on her daggers. They must have been no more than two hundred metres from the camp.

  “What is it?” Talghar whispered, as he, along with the other two came closer to Danyll. Lyla glanced across at Danyll to her left, eyes glowing again as he looked into the darkness beyond, staring through the mass of trees and undergrowth.

  [Enhanced Detection]

  She looked in the direction Danyll was. The silhouettes of the trees were all dark shades of grey, the branches slightly lighter, the leaves on the forest floor so dark as to almost be black. Her ears could hear the slither of crawling creatures as they made their way across the damp ground, the squeak of a mouse here, the chirping of crickets hidden in the undergrowth.

  But there was another sound that was very much out of place.

  Pit-pat. Pit-pat.

  The sound was coming from their left, closer to the southwest of the camp.

  “Footsteps,” Danyll whispered. “That way.”

  Talghar followed the way he was pointing then looked at Lyla, raising his eyebrows.

  “I hear it too,” she said.

  Talghar glanced in the direction of the camp, then looked at his wife, before whispering to the rest of them.

  “Okay, form-up. Let’s go see what this is.”

  Talghar and Aloise led from the front, Danyll between them but slightly behind. Lyla and Urien brought up the rear this time, but they were no more than a metre or two from the rest. The five of them stalked through the forest towards where the footsteps had been heard. As they got closer, the footsteps were loud enough that they didn’t need abilities to hear them.

  Leaves crunched underneath as they got closer. No footsteps anymore. Just the slight breeze whistling through the dark trees that surrounded them.

  “I see something ahead,” Danyll whispered. “Looks like water on the floor.”

  When they came across the pool of water, Talghar squatted down, putting his fingers in it and touching it to his lips.

  “Blood,” he said, as he stood up.

  That’s when they all heard the drip.

  Plop.

  Plop.

  Plop.

  A drip in a place where it hadn’t rained. It was coming from above the pool of blood.

  “Give us some light, Urien,” Talghar whispered.

  The mage created a small orb of white light and let it float above their heads, towards the source of that drip.

  All of them tensed immediately.

  Talghar unsheathed his broadsword, Aloise doing the same with her thinner, curved blades. Danyll held his bow, an arrow notched to the bowstring, scanning the canopy above. Lyla pulled two of her daggers, eyes darting among the shadowed trees. Urien clenched his fists, the air around them growing frigid.

  Above them, Sagar hung upside down from a branch. He was topless, the shirt he had worn used as the rope from which he dangled by his ankles. His throat had been sliced, blood still slowly trickling from the wound.

  Three words had been stitched into his bare chest in bright pink thread.

  Elsie is here.