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We’ve covered ourselves in green and brown to blend in with the surroundings. Many of us have even tied fern fronds aroundour arms and legs. Others lie flat on the ground, peering through the foliage ahead. Camouflaged from view.
A lone figure walks silently through the forest. She’s not wearing Kymora’s colors, but she’s far too comfortable alone and traveling without any supplies to be anything other than one of the warlord’s soldiers.
The small woman strides with a grace that allows her to flit between the trees quickly. She’s not on the road, but just to the side of it. If we hadn’t been looking for her, no one would have spotted her.
A scout, Kellyn mouths from beside me.
What do we do? Let her go to the city and find it mostly empty? What if Kymora doesn’t attack because she suspects something?
The sound of a loosed arrow fills the quiet. It pierces right through the scout’s left eye, the shaft exiting out the back of her head.
Princess Marossa lowers herself from the tree she’d climbed, striding over to the body. I look away just in time, as I realize she’s come toretrieve her arrow.
When I turn back around, she’s wiping the blood and other matter on the dead scout’s clothing. As Marossa looks up, she finds the lot of us staring at her.
She says, “If the warlord wants to know what’s ahead, she’ll need to come see for herself. No one gets through us or has a chance to turn around and report.” Then she climbs her tree once more.
Another hour passes, and the signal comes again. Another scout, this time a lean man.
When he finds the body of his fallen comrade, he bends down to examine her.
Marossa finishes him just like she did with the first.
A third scout arrives and meets the same fate.
Only then do we hear the marching of hundreds of feet, which can’t be masked no matter how quiet they try to be. The ground trembles ever so slightly. I can only feel it because I’m kneeling so low to the forest floor.
Unlike Ravis, Kymora marches at the head of her army. She’s in full armor, riding atop a horse, while most of her men walk behind. They march in perfect formation, taking up just the width of the road. She’s clearly taken the time to train them a bit better.
At some unseen command, the entire party halts.
There’s no possible way Kymora sees us (we’ve hidden the bodies of the scouts), yet some instinct has her surveying the greenery around her.
“Here we are,” Kymora says. She doesn’t speak louder than a conversational tone. “You wanted me walking into your city blindly. I am ready for you to spring your ambush now.”
Petrik swallows from right next to me. For all his reading and planning, his mother is simplybetter. We can’t really prepare ourselves to match against her skills and experience.
Not a soul moves in response to the warlord’s words.
How are we about to spring a trap when Kymoratells us to?
Kymora crosses her arms above her horse. “I’m waiting.”
Still, no one can find their wits.
The warlord sighs. “It’s too quiet. The wildlife has disappeared, and you missed a streak of blood on that fern. Really, it’s sad how you all think you can play at being warriors.”
Still nobody moves from their hiding places.
“Was this my son’s idea? I expected better. Surely you’re—”
Marossa lets an arrow fly. The distance is ambitious, even for a skilled archer like herself. Nevertheless, her aim is true. The arrow sails right for Kymora’s face.
In a motion I can hardly register, Kymora swings her sword, the arrow bouncing off the steel harmlessly.
Her eyes land on Marossa in her tree.
“Princess,” Kymora greets.
