Where Darkness Treads: Book Two—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter Nineteen: Night Moves

Just after nightfall, Edef entered the narrow mountain pass. It was the only practical point of passage into Etmindor from the North, during this time of year. The great white-death had filled the higher mountain passes with snow, which now was deeper than a Giant was tall.

The sheer, rock walls of this mountain pass made it a natural trap of sorts. One, the Manbeast's had used to their advantage many times before. Edef had traveled through this pass many times before, always late at night.

Tonight, something was different. Edef did not want to be here. The little hairs at the base of his neck were beginning to itch, which meant danger was nearby.

Edef picketed his horse deep in the shadows, for he needed to scout the area up ahead, on foot. Silently, he stepped forward, keeping to the shadows. Something had changed. The Manbeast's were always messing with things, making them worse.

Up ahead, the pass narrowed further. Inching forward, Edef carefully peeked around a large boulder, while studying the terrain before him. From what the Kang scout saw, much had changed, and he did not like it.

Years of fighting the Manbeasts, had taught Edef to be cautious. They could be tricky to fight, and they deserved more respect than they were given. Then, he saw all the trees and brush had been removed. After the scout ventured past the cover of the boulder, there would be nothing further to hide within.

The walls of the fort had been raised and they looked stronger. It was as Edef had feared. The Manbeasts had once more messed things up. Now there were great towers regularly spaced along the walls. Everything in this area of the pass, could be easily seen. Luckily, the Manbeasts could not see well in the dark. Stealthily, he crept forward, observing what had changed.

The brushy tangle at the foot of the fort's walls, had been removed. To attack the fort, now, would place the attackers directly in the open, where archers could quickly bring them down.

Stealthily, Edef crept forward. The massive fort stood silent for now. It was undoubtedly manned by guards, who would be watching for any signs of movement. Torches upon the walls, illuminated most of the area, except for a few areas deep in shadow, like the one he stood in now.

General Anktar, must know what he had discovered. This was a place where death waited. Even though, Edef knew he was concealed by the darkness, he felt himself beginning to shake.

The small series of shallow gullies in the hard-packed soil which used to exist, had all been carefully filled in. Edef had seen enough. Slowly, he began to retrace his footsteps.

From atop Fort Belton's wall, a female Centaur reached for her bow. "We have a visitor. He is slowly creeping along the rock wall, in the shadows, over there. It is a Kang," Anetea whispered and pointed to her friend, who was standing beside her.

"I see him." Seteau quickly reached for his bow.

Anetea raised her bow and prepared to shoot, as Seteau prepared to do the same. The distance to the Kang was not far. To her Centaur eyes, it was as if the enemy scout stood in the sunshine. Smoothly, she released her bowstring. Immediately after she shot, the twang of Seteau's bowstring echoed hers.

With grim satisfaction, Anetea noted both arrows had struck the Kang in the chest. He collapsed to the ground and convulsed for a few moments and lay still. This Kang scout would not be returning to report anything.

Demeck, the night commander, gave a hand signal for them to make sure the enemy scout was dead. Anetea quickly galloped down the ramp, followed closely by Seteau.

In a matter of minutes, Anetea cautiously approached the scout, who lay motionless before her. Both arrows had struck true. With each holding onto an arm, they headed back to the fort. "For a while at least, they all were a little safer," the female Centaur thought.

The same night, Mog listened intently for any sign his presence had been detected. Around him, the silence of the night was absolute. The crickets had quieted, but no one was evidently listening to them. The Meer assassin, kept to the shadows, and silently crept forward, through the tall grass. The enemy's encampment stood in the distance before him, upon an exposed ridge.

The night air was pleasantly cool, which was a welcome change indeed, from the heat of the day. Tonight, Mog was not the only one utilizing the cover of darkness. Many capable assassins of the Order of the Black Claw had been hired for one sole task, to kill Prince Donovan and the Neeri witch.

Up ahead, a guard softly cleared his throat, alerting Mog to his presence. Quietly, he crept into range, before pulling out his blow pipe. From a pouch along the inside of his arm, Mog pulled free a small feathered dart. The dull gleaming point carried within it, the venom of the black striker. Its effects were near-instantly fatal and would quickly silence the sentry before him.

The guard stood within the shadow of a large tree. Mog crouched, while lightly striking a small, bone comb held within his left hand, which created a low, continuous hum. Light rustling, from beside the tree, betrayed the movement of the curious guard. He slowly stuck his head out into the moonlight, while attempting to find the source of the noise. The small feathered dart found its mark in the hollow of his victim's tender throat. With a small sigh, the guard collapsed sideways, into his waiting arms. Quietly, Mog lowered the dead guard into a shadow, under a bush.

To his left, a low grunt, announced another enemy sentry's demise. It wouldn't be long, before the attack gathered strength. The night air was suddenly rent by a scream. The enemy had evidently managed to spot one of them and had downed him, most likely with an arrow. The cry served to galvanize those within the camp. Mog grudgingly had to admit the enemy's reaction was a great deal faster than he would have liked. The Meer leaped forward, in an attack. From the side, a dark form hurtled towards him and parried his sword thrust with a blade, which gleamed white in the night. Mog advanced a step, slicing across his opponent's thigh, downing him.

Before, he could close and finish him off, another figure lept in his way and effortlessly deflected his blade. Here was a Manbeast that was ready to challenge him, with skill to match. The battle had now become most stimulating, Mog felt his excitement increase tenfold. Such battles made life worth living. In a blur, the Meer assassin counterattacked, and his strike was rebuffed.

In the shadows, a second Manbeast stepped forward, the manner of his stance spoke of unwavering confidence. Mog chose the route of least resistance and utilized dust that would blind one. The one who walked with confidence blocked the dust, and searched for Mog, who had used the pause to conceal himself within the shadows of the wood. It did not work, the Manbeast had followed him,

A white blade swung in a bright crescent, which Mog was barely able to deflect. The Manbeast's skill, seemed to rival his own, in the shadow’s swords clashed. This battle with the Manbeast had already taken too long, he needed to break off the fight, and escape. He scooped up a handful of dust, and hurled it at the face of his foe, while quickly bolting in the opposite direction. The enemy managed to block most of the dust, and searched for Mog, who had easily escaped.