Chương 3: Chapter 4: Attackers

We wait for night to fall before moving out. It leaves me enough time to digest the tinctures Lennick grabs for me to keep my horrible scrying headache at bay. After relaying what I'd witnessed, we send out scouts to get a precise location on where these individuals are. Now, I pick my way through the dim light, grateful for the thin layer of glass in the goggles that allow us to differentiate objects and plants in the pitch-black forest. It's not perfect.

But being able to see in the dark has definite advantages in our line of work. Alchemical reactions are the closest we get to magic these days. I smell the smoke on the wind. It's subtle. Far away enough that I almost believe they didn't think we'd find them. Not to mention the distinctive resonance that echoes through the ground, letting me know how big the camp is. That connection with the earth, the plants… it's what allows me to do what I do in the lab.

It's what allows me to know when someone is approaching, or scout out areas without fear of being seen. This camp is not what I expected. There are several more people than I'd assumed there would be. Aarron only sent five of us. Deshan—one of the masters currently at the Enclave, specializing in knives—myself, and Xan. And two Journeymen whose names I don't know. Normally, five of us would be overkill for unsuspecting bandits.

But I'm getting the distinct feeling that my scrying was only a glimpse and that these may not be simple outlaws after all. There's a sensation prickling down my spine. It feels like a warning. I can hear their voices now we're close enough to see the flames from the fire. They're cooking some form of carcass over it. Perhaps a westrel, a small, bunny-like creature with larger ears and six legs. They're making no effort to be stealthy. I block the smell out, counting our targets like any good ambusher knows to do.

Fourteen of them. More than we anticipated. The camp appears more organized than I'd expect of usual bandits too. Then there's the clothes they're wearing. An uneasy knot forms in my stomach as I take in the surroundings, recalculating as I go. The camp isn't untidy, instead it's been put together with distinct precision. Their clothing resembles uniforms, similar to our own. Brown instead of black. More adaptable to the outside than to the shadows. Apparently, concealment isn't high on their priority list.

Several of them are already in their bedrolls, asleep. A few of them still linger around the fire, one of them poring over what appears to be a map of some kind. Xan tugs on my arm gently. I push down the urge to snap at them. After all, they're just trying to get me to pay full attention to Deshan. He's gesturing now, motioning for us to spread out. Two. He wants me to take down two of them, over a quarter of the way around the camp. My stomach churns for multiple reasons as I creep over to my spot.

I never joined Nightshade because I wanted to kill people. I joined it so I could get my hands on resources that no other guild, not even that of the thieves, could obtain. But more than that right now? This whole setup is off. A tugging sensation makes me pause, almost as if it doesn't want me to use my dart pipe. Only that's preposterous. Killing people when I haven't been able to determine if they might deserve it or not? It isn't my thing. Then again, it isn't my call. Not right now. Not this time.

Occasionally I need to make exceptions. Aarron's eyes bore into mine as he barks out instructions.

"Kill them. These bandits have encroached into our territory deliberately. Deshan will detain anyone we wish to interrogate." That's just it. Granting someone a merciful death instead of one at the hands of Deshan? Their ghosts would thank me. Being tortured by our order for information wasn't something I'd wish on my worst enemy. Being tortured by Deshan? Even less ideal. These people aren't simple bandits who accidentally found themselves near our Enclave. Their uniforms.

The tidiness of the camp, economy of movement, and lack of rowdiness… they are here for something else, and I have the distinct feeling that it isn't a good thing. They are here for us. To disrupt us and our operations. And the reason doesn't matter. It only matters that we stop them. The sudden clarity hits me square in the chest, and for a second, I forget to breathe. That's all I need to make myself pull out my dart gun, all I need to lower myself into a crouch and steady my breathing.

As long as your movements are one with your breath, the steadiness comes on its own. That's how I sight my target, and how I strengthen my resolve. Two targets, close to each other, sitting on the ground next to the fireplace. Their heads are close together, likely talking, unaware of our proximity. With precise aim, they should fall into each other and leave their deaths undiscovered for a bit. Not moving a muscle, I wait for the signal. We have to be synchronized for this to work.

It's why Dougrant constantly insists that we practice group work. The most inconspicuous gleam flashes. Anyone else might think it the moonlight reflecting down off a bird's beak, or something. Yet I know what it is; it's Deshan's signal to take down our marked targets. I blow through the dart with a precise burst of breath, reangling the dart pipe as soon as the poisonous little vial leaves it. Another short burst and I hit my second target within a split second.

Luck is on my side as they lean into each other, my job done. Slowly and silently, I retract myself from my position, watching for the rest of them to go down. I've already seen two of Xan's throwing stars land. Tipped with a similar poison but one that is stickier and thus suits their weapons better, it lodges directly in their throats, taking their ability to speak or make sound, and reducing their deaths to a gurgling mess. Definitely not my favorite death to witness. I prefer mine clean. We are good.

This is what Nightshade does. Except… even with our usual expertise, this much death means the margin for error is larger. More people, more variables. Something is off about this whole thing. Decoy. That has to be it. These people aren't bandits, they're here as a decoy for us. They are sacrifices for something bigger. The truth is suddenly so largely evident at the forefront of my thoughts that it takes me a second to realize the full implications.

Shouting across the small camp isn't the ideal way to communicate what I've realized. I run as silently as possible into the center, meeting Deshan as he creeps across to the tents, where sleeping bodies make easy targets. His scowl makes me feel like I've been stabbed twenty times over, but I push on anyway.

"This camp is a decoy," I murmur softly, knowing he can hear me regardless of how low my voice is. He eyes me, the dark brown of his eyes blacker than the night that surrounds us.

"Explain," he states as the corpses behind him surrounding the campfire begin to cool. I gesture.

"This is staged. Too finely. This is no bandit camp." He glances around, quickly, and scowls.

"Get back to the Enclave before their contingent does." I know what he means, just as he knows taking any of the sleeping people prisoner will supply us with little knowledge, because these people? They know nothing. Or at least, very little. I wonder what rewards were promised to make becoming a sacrifice worth it. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The churning in my gut is trying to choke me. I must make it back to Aarron and the Enclave.

The deep blacks and greens of my goggles make everything melt together in my mind. I'm being louder than I should be as I race through the forest to get to our home. But necessity dictates I throw my usual caution to the wind. There's no smoke out this way, nothing that visibly causes me anxiety, just a low rumbling feeling of how wrong this all seems. From the scrying discovery to the camp far too close to our own home. Maybe I'd have gleaned more if the scrying didn't leave me with pounding headaches.

Aarron will be furious with this outcome. I need to up my stamina for scrying, despite my disdain for it. Pulling in closer, I realize that I'm no longer alone. There are shadows that surround me on top of the mountain, close to the entrance. If I make a dash now, I'll give the entrance away. That's not something Aarron is likely to forgive, despite any good intentions. The entrances to the Nightshade Enclaves are always hidden in plain sight, with special locking mechanisms.

A series of indentations on the rock face. Perhaps a special key. Sometimes even a password, sometimes depending on how many members we have available to tend to the door. I stop, hidden by the trunk of a large oak. It's wide and welcoming. From this vantage point, I assess just what I'm facing. I need to get inside somehow and warn them, though I doubt it's completely necessary. The boundary alarms have probably already gone off.

These people wouldn't have recognized any of our perimeter alerts before triggering them. There are no people that I can see, only shadows. As if darkness arrived without their actual bodies. Like the shadows are alive. Maybe they are. The moon comes out from behind a cloud, brightening the night enough that I can remove my goggles. Shadows aren't the only things that can creep in the night. Just because I'm stealthy doesn't mean I know how to fight the umbra.

I move closer as several assassins flow out of the Enclave, liquid in the way they move silently through the night. My own footsteps are light, but I'm not quite at that expert level, yet. There are more members of the order home than I'd expected. As Aarron exits, I fall in next to him, and he spares me but a brief scowl.

"Deshan sent me with a warning." I glance around.

"But it seems to be under control."

"Destroy them." It is all the Prefect says to me before blending into the night so flawlessly I can barely track him. Anger rolls in his wake, palpable and infectious. There are more attackers than I initially thought. In fact, they're swarming over the mountain, around the front of it, and far too close to the entrance. Close combat isn't my forte—I strike from a distance—but even I know the element of surprise can turn tables. My first encounter with one of the shadow creatures drives home how wrong this all is.

Even as my knife comes into contact with the inkiness of its being, cold shoots down the shaft and straight through to my bones. It leaves a residue that smells vaguely of blood, dirt, and rot. The substance clings to my hand, encasing it, leaving behind a feeling of despair that lingers even after I've backed away from the creature. Even as droplets of congealed mess slip down into the undergrowth. It's not even a creature, but a creation made of blood and bits and pieces.

I'd like to think I have a fairly iron stomach, but even I gag at the consistency of the liquid trailing onto the ground from the wound I inflicted. A wound which has already healed. I pull my arm back, sure now that the knife is inefficient. We need to splatter these constructs with a concoction that takes away blood's ability to congeal, to clot. Whatever these things are, they're not human in anything but shape. Nerves take over for a second and I almost fumble my vials.

Most of my current stock of poisons won't do anything to this creature in front of me, but I do have a couple that will affect blood. It's the only solution I can think of. Loading them into my dart pipe as I carefully navigate my way backward, I can only hope that the mixture of turmeric, fenugreek, and red clover do the trick. And I only have a few of them. Blood thinning is not something I've ever had to do en masse before.

I just have to hope that the body itself has enough solidity for the vial to hit and shatter inside it, thus activating the concoction much faster throughout the whole body. If there's one thing I hate, it's not having enough information to project definitive results. The dart flies as I blow sharply into the tube, embedding itself inside the creature. Within seconds the effect is evident, and I can't help but heave a sigh of relief. I need to get inside the Enclave to Lennick and let him know what works.

All around me there are noises, sounds of fighting and squelching that turn my stomach. While I'm sure these can be fought, doing so by usual means will prove difficult. The one I shot is coming apart, flowing down into the rocks, down the side of the mountain I fought it on. Everything becomes slick and slippery in its wake. I'm almost at the entrance to the Enclave. I dash inside, not stopping until I make it to Lennick's lab.

He's frantically mixing healing potions, strange fiery concoctions that I really need to talk to him about at some stage, and somehow also grinding herbs. Multitasking at its finest.

"Their main component is blood. Blood thinning agents work best," I gasp. I'd run quite a distance from the initial point of attack at that camp. It had finally caught up with me. Lennick looks up for a split second and then leaves what he was doing where he was doing it.

"Are you certain?" he asks, even though his hands are already flying for the ingredients he knows will do what is needed for blood thinning.

"Completely." I rush to do the same. There are many agents that work for blood thinning, but the easiest to combine will be the ones I just used.

"Perhaps an herb bomb with a weight will work better."

"Herb bomb with a weight?" he says, his tone somewhat incredulous. I eye him, my own irritation at the question overcoming me momentarily.

"It's slick and slippery, and not completely solid. It needs something to nest inside and start working to thin the blood from the inside out." There's a sparkle in his eye as the understanding clicks in and I know that I shouldn't have been so impatient. He hasn't had a chance to poke his head out and see these creatures. All he has to go on is what he's been told. Precious minutes tick by, and desperation eliminates my usually cautious nature. Each plea I ask of the plants is fraught with the crunch of time.

We need these bombs now, and not in twenty minutes. There's that hum again, like something is singing to me but just outside my realm of understanding. It's in my ears, under my feet, through my fingers as I piece the dried herbs together. The melody lingers as I pull them in toward each other, asking them to meld with each other and become as potent as possible. Twelve of them down, I shove three into my pockets for myself, take the remainder, and grab the dozen from Lennick. This will have to do for now.

"I'll have more for you in a few minutes," he mutters as I race back out of the alchemy lab. I don't tell him that's not soon enough. The clash of steel reaches my ears as I exit the Enclave once more. Since the blood creatures aren't wielding weapons, it stands to reason that we now have actual people present in the fight as well. I'm set upon almost as soon as I exit the cave wall concealing the actual entrance, but manage to duck and roll, avoiding the very human assailant.

Minx is to the left of the entrance, fending off her own attacker. Taking in my surroundings as my opponent rounds on me again, I notice that there are almost a dozen of the blood creatures scattered around, lending aid to the real people attacking our own. There are two unmoving Nightshade members laying on the ground. I feel my own blood boil in my veins as anger courses through me. There'll be time later to check on them. For now, I will channel my rage.

We are trained to observe, to see everything at once, all within the blink of an eye. Anger doesn't make me act irrationally. Ever since my parents' death, it's done the opposite for me. It lets me concentrate, focus with pinpoint accuracy, and leave any feelings I have at the door. I grab the spare bombs and push them at Minx.

"Get some of these to everyone. They're for the blood creatures." For once Minx doesn't argue with me and dashes off, leaving me to face two assailants. Probably not my wisest move. But since there's some distance between us, I know I can take at least one of them down with my pipe. As long as I load it first. My vials are fragile and difficult to load while I'm moving, but necessity demands. Two darts of petrification loaded, and my assailants are closer than I'd like.

But this will allow for Aarron to have these people interrogated. They came for our home, and already downed some of my colleagues. There is no longer a need to justify their deaths. I roll back, only narrowly avoiding one of the blood creatures that rises up from the ground. Split-second thinking saves me as I smush one of my little herb bombs into its chest. But not before I come into contact with the sludge it's made from again.

My hand tingles with the sensation of contact and even as it dissolves, I wipe the remnants onto my pants. Lennick and I can deconstruct it later. Diving to the left, I take cover behind a boulder and calm my breathing. It's just me, and two of them. I can do this. Two darts, two targets. The ground beneath me purrs this time, vibrating right through to my bones. Taking a deep breath, I feel for their presence. Their location echoes through to me, making my bones tingle.

One of them is the perfect distance away for the dart to hit, the other… the other is concealing themself and confusing my otherwise perfect sensors. The first dart lodges itself directly into the neck of my target, taking effect immediately. Their body stops, swiftly overcome by an inability to move, a stiffness of limbs that allows nothing more than breathing. It lets me turn and find my second victim is far closer than I anticipated.

I barely avoid a knife to my gut, and it glances off the armor protecting my ribs, instead slicing through some of the layers. I wince. I'm going to have to go see Vilena, the order's seamstress, once all this is done. Twisting again, I bring up my left arm just in time to smash my assailant in the nose. They stagger back, muttering under their breath as I bring my dart pipe to my lips once more. Only suddenly, something shoots out of the ground, grabbing at my ankles.

It tugs at me, and I lose my equilibrium, crashing down on my side, only just twisting in time to avoid breaking my pipe. My knees ache with the impact, as does my right elbow. I cough, and kick my legs to free them from what I think is either roots or vines. But the substance is sticky, rubbery. It grips at my clothing, clinging to my black calf-length boots. I can feel it as it tightens on me, trying to wring me like a wet cloth.

With my free hand, I grasp at my dagger and slash down at it, barely managing to free myself in time to avoid my attacker's next swipe at me. Another slash down my chest plate this time, which is at least more reinforced than the side of my ribs was. I can still feel a couple of the layers give. Wrenching my feet up to my chest, I push away at my attacker with enough force to launch them up and away from me.

I'm weaker than I anticipated, and only now realize I'm bleeding from the initial slash through the side of my armor. Raising my pipe to my lips I let out a sharp breath, and finally manage to hit my assailant directly in the throat. He goes down, hitting the ground with a thud. I roll onto my back, gulping in air as I try to make sense of someone thinking it a good idea to attack the Nightshade Enclave.