Page 33 of Memory of Ashes

He tightened the leather strap across her ribs, and she flinched.

His hands stopped immediately.

“Is it too tight?”

“No.”

She realised he wouldn’t continue until she told him to.

“It’s fine.”

He continued fastening the straps.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

She nodded, expecting him to mock her.

“Good. It means you understand what’s at stake.”

“Are you?” she asked.

He stopped fastening the straps. “Nervous? More than I was before you offered to come. You don’t have to, you know.”

“Would my ability help?”

“More than it would hinder.”

“Then I’m coming.”

They crept through the darkness, skirting the forest’s edge as it descended from the hills.

Both camps were based high on opposing hills, while the fighting took place in the valley below. The enemy camp blocked access to the mountains. The terrain favoured whichever side held the higher ground. Retreating uphill left soldiers exposed and easily cut down as they fled.

They’d found Amelia some leather armour and had removed anything from it that would make too much noise. They carried daggers, and Casyl had a short sword strapped to his back.

The grass shimmered under the moonlight as it stirred in a gentle breeze. The enemy camp was up ahead, tents scattered and guards walking the perimeter, alert for intruders.

Casyl led the way ahead of Amelia, with Danae following. They were practically crawling in the long, dancing grass when they reached the base of the enemy’s hill.

Casyl looked back and signalled for them to wait. He went ahead alone, snaking through the grass towards the lone guard watching the camp.

The silence pressed against her ears. They’d been told to bolt if the alarm was raised. She waited for Casyl’s signal.

Casyl reached up and seized the guard’s leg. The man crumpled as he dragged him into the long grass. He signalled for them to come.

They approached the camp cautiously. When another guard came into view, they dashed towards the back of the nearest tent. In one quick movement, Casyl sliced through the tent with his dagger and slipped inside to slit the sleeping soldier’s throat. They crammed inside whilst Casyl peeked out from the front entrance.

Amelia glanced at the soldier. Blood poured from his wound, soaking his bed. She’d seen bones and ancient remains, but she’d never watched someone die. The man hadn’t even opened his eyes. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth and forced herself to keep moving.

This wasn’t training anymore. Her fear would get them all killed if she didn’t control it.

From the tent entrance, they could see Tharos suspended above the centre of the camp.

The camp was quiet, most of its occupants asleep apart from a handful of guards. Was this a trap? Or were they expecting a full mounted assault to rescue him?

They ran from the tent, sticking to the shadows, entering tents to dispatch sleeping soldiers if they needed to, until they drew closer to Tharos. They hunkered down in the shadows and watched as four men stepped out of a large tent.

“Bring him down,” one of the men ordered. He wore a chain-mail robe beneath a tabard.