The Essence Wars--An Envious God, page 46
So where was the sixth?
A cold realization settled in his gut. One of them had broken away from the pack. It took him a moment to understand why.
There had been a woman among the riders. And now, her footsteps were gone.
Not absent. Not delayed. Gone. Another camouflager.
His stomach clenched. She was hunting.
Kaedryn breathed quietly in the darkness of the cave. She was on her way, either for him and Vorruk or for Grantchu and Cyre. In the low light and near-perfect silence, tracking her would not be easy, not even with his gift.
Above, the remaining Lirionethians had spread out along the cliffs, taking vantage points that blocked any escape back up.
They could wait.
It might take a day, maybe two. Thalrice didn’t rush or fret; he simply accepted the Westerners’ confinement and turned his attention elsewhere. The general had more pressing matters than guarding the cliffs through the night.
With Salc Theros, the master duelist, at his side, Thalrice turned away from the cliffs, mounted his horse, and began the ride back toward the settler’s camp.
Their prey had already cornered themselves. The real hunt was waiting elsewhere.
But the shadow that moved now was coming straight for Kaedryn and Vorruk. She was not as perfectly silent as the camouflager they had faced before. She carried weapons, gear, and weight, and no matter how well she moved, it was enough to give her away. Kaedryn caught it. Subtle at first, but his training surged to the forefront. She was on the rocky shore, closing in. The uneven ground worked against her. She was slow, but relentless.
Kaedryn pressed a finger to his lips, signaling Vorruk to remain perfectly still.
The night had shifted in Kaedryn’s favor.
Every move she made, every tiny displacement of sound, every shift of her weight could be seen by Kaedryn as clearly as if the world had been drawn in lines of motion and stillness.
Except...
She knew this. And she was about to take it away from him. She reached Rhyzek’s lifeless body, crouching beside him. Then, one by one, she dropped her weapons.
A sword. A dagger. A second dagger. Then, her cloak. Then, her tunic. The last thing Kaedryn saw was the movement of bare skin as she stepped out of her clothes entirely.
And then—nothing. She was gone. The void where she had stood no longer existed in Kaedryn’s sight. No noise. No movement. No way to track her.
His pulse quickened, thudding in his ears as he strained to listen. She had no weapons now, but she had become the darkness itself, moving in silence, invisible, her footsteps imperceptible even to Kaedryn. She had become the air, a vapor slipping through the world like fluid shadow.
Kaedryn peered out from the cave, his grip tightening around his own sword. The whites of the waves crashed against the rocks, foaming like distant ghosts in the dark. Nothing else moved.
The Camouflager was perfectly still or moving with pure, silent precision.
Above, the remaining Lirionethians still held their positions, waiting for the Westerners to attempt an escape back up the cliffs. If they tried to climb, they would be picked off easily.
They were trapped, and the tide was coming in.
Kaedryn steadied his breath, pushing his gift to its limits. He listened, forcing the picture of his surroundings to take shape in his mind. But the Camouflager used that very sound against him.
She had matched the rhythm of the waves, mimicking the subtle scrape of rock shifting under water, the breath of wind against the cliff face.
She was becoming the terrain.
His fingers tensed even tighter around his sword.
Behind him, Vorruk moved, stepping forward. His massive frame emerged from the cave’s shadow, his fur bristling, his muscles coiled with tension.
Then Vorruk let out a low, deep growl. A clear warning. Kaedryn’s stomach tightened. Vorruk could feel it, too. The only advantage Kaedryn had now was the sword in his hand, and she had none. At least, none that she could conceal.
The distance between him and the crashing water was barely twenty yards. He held his ground, swaying slightly, testing the air, sweeping his sword through the space around him.
But it was no use.
She was watching them.
And he had no idea from where.
Kaedryn stepped back slowly, eyes flicking across the shadowed path behind him, searching for any trace of Grantchu or Cyre. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the distant crash of waves. He quickened his pace, hoping to draw out the Camouflager into making a mistake. But whoever she was, she remained unnervingly patient.
Above, shadows moved against the darkening sky as three of the remaining soldiers climbed in rough alignment with Kaedryn. The light was almost gone now, and the jagged rocks underfoot became a perilous challenge, especially for those without Kaedryn’s gift. Vorruk pressed close to his side, the bear’s hulking frame a source of reassurance.
The whizz and thwack of an arrow shattered the night. Vorruk howled in pain, staggering as the first arrow lodged deep in his hind leg. A second struck his shoulder before Kaedryn could react.
‘Vorruk!’ Kaedryn yelled, his voice sharp with panic. He lunged forward, grabbing at the bear’s thick fur, pulling as best he could. Vorruk, groaning through the pain, dragged himself the rest of the way beneath the overhang that shielded them from further arrows.
Blood matted Vorruk’s fur, dark streaks glistening in the faint light. Kaedryn knelt, his hands trembling as he patted the bear’s heaving side. Vorruk growled low, his body shuddering with suppressed pain.
‘Hold on, boy,’ Kaedryn whispered, voice shaking. He didn’t dare pull the arrows yet. The wounds were deep, and blood loss would only worsen if he acted hastily. Vorruk, tough as ever, met his gaze with a flicker of defiance, but the bear’s breathing was laboured.
Then it happened.
A blur of movement came from nowhere and slammed into Kaedryn. A foot struck his temple, and his head snapped back with a sickening jolt. Stunned, he caught a fleeting glimpse of his attacker. She was naked, her skin painted with smears of mud and ash, blending seamlessly with the dark. Before he could move, she struck again, her heel driving him into the rocky cliffside. His vision blurred, and the world slipped into black.
Vorruk roared in fury, swiping blindly at the air. His claws caught nothing, but his defiance rang loud in the night. The Camouflager was a ghost, her movements too swift, too precise.
Then, as if stirred by some unseen force, Kaedryn’s sword shifted. It rose on its own, meeting the steel of the approaching blade. Grantchu’s blade. The clash of metal ignited a sudden surge of electricity, a bolt of yellow light that crackled through the air and exploded outward. The Camouflager’s form shimmered, the force flinging her backwards into the darkness.
Kaedryn groaned as he stirred, his vision swimming with shadows and light. The faint glow of Grantchu’s sword lingered in his mind, and the image of Vorruk, bloodied but unyielding, standing guard burned into his consciousness before darkness reclaimed him.
Reeling from the lightning shock, the Camouflager staggered backward, her cloak of invisibility rippling erratically like a broken mirage. Grantchu’s strike had wrenched Kaedryn’s sword from her grip, the blade clattering to the ground as she faltered. Disoriented but not defeated, she retreated down the path she had come from, her steps uneven yet deliberate. For now, she was gone, but the threat lingered, and she would not stay away for long.
Grantchu crouched beside Kaedryn, shaking his shoulder and whispering his name in a desperate attempt to wake him. He glanced upward, his mind already sketching the faint movements of the three soldiers above. They hadn’t descended yet, but their archer was deadly accurate, his shots cutting through the darkness with unnerving precision. Moving along the cliffs was out of the question; one wrong step would mean death. The Westerners were pinned down, forced to wait until Kaedryn could regain full awareness and assess their next move.
Cyre emerged from her usual perch, slipping gracefully out of the small pack strapped to Grantchu’s back. Her sharp eyes darted to Vorruk, who was panting heavily, his massive frame quivering from blood loss and pain. The bear growled softly, his defiance tempered by the weight of his injuries.
Without hesitation, the small cat leapt onto Vorruk’s broad front leg and climbed effortlessly to his shoulder. She leaned in, her breath misting as she exhaled a concentrated chill onto the wound. A thin layer of frost formed around the arrow’s entry point, slowing the bleeding and numbing the torn flesh. Vorruk growled at first, shifting under the icy touch, but as the pain dulled, his growl softened into a low rumble of relief.
Cyre moved to the rear leg next, her delicate paws navigating the massive bear’s frame with ease. Once again, she breathed her icy calm onto the wound, freezing the blood around the arrow and creating a fragile barrier against further loss. Vorruk whimpered softly, the pain still present but subdued, his laboured breathing beginning to steady.
Grantchu watched in awe, his grip tightening around his sword. ‘Good girl,’ he murmured under his breath, as Cyre returned to her perch, her work done for now. Vorruk shifted, his weight settling as he leaned protectively against the cliffside, his wounds no longer gushing blood. He was still far from safe, but Cyre’s intervention had bought them time.
For the moment, they were alive. But the Camouflager was still out there, and the soldiers above remained a looming threat. Grantchu tightened his grip on his blade further, his mind racing to formulate their next move. The night had turned treacherous, and the slightest misstep could spell the end for all of them.
It was several moments before Kaedryn stirred, his head pounding from the blow he had taken. Grantchu sheathed his sword and stepped over to him, kneeling at his side.
‘You alright there, Kaedryn?’ he asked, his voice low but steady.
Kaedryn drew a breath through clenched teeth, blinking against the pain. ‘Yeah... that one caught me by surprise. Nice body, though.’
Grantchu raised an eyebrow but said nothing. At least, his sense of humor hadn’t been knocked out of him. Still, there was no time for jokes.
‘Can you see her now? Is she still here?’ Grantchu pressed.
Kaedryn shook his head, wincing at the movement. He lowered his voice, as if afraid she might be listening. ‘No. She’s too good. I lost her.’
His gaze flicked upward. ‘The three above are still there. They’re waiting for us to move, and the archer will strike the moment we do. There aren’t enough overhangs from here. Even in the dark, that bastard can see us.’ He swallowed, frustration tightening his voice. ‘We’re pinned. Vorruk’s too injured to move. My head’s a mess, and if we stay here, by tomorrow they’ll come down on either side and pick us off. We’re finished, Grantchu. They’re just biding their time now.’
‘I only managed to avoid the archer by hugging the cliff face,’ Grantchu admitted, his voice low but firm. ‘So you’re right. Vorruk doesn’t stand a chance if we move. That means we wait and fight. That’s all we can do. If the Camouflager comes back, we’ll be ready.’
He let the tension ease from his chest, eyes lifting toward the darkened cliffs. ‘But none of them are coming down tonight. If we can make it through till morning, we might just survive this, Kaedryn. Maybe.’
Thalrice had eaten well that evening, the settlers of the camp providing a generous meal. But there was no rest to be had. He and Salc Theros rode off into the night, heading north.
Eryn watched them ride off, unease settling deep in her gut. This confirmed what she had already suspected: this group wasn’t here to protect the camp. They were hunting for Maerwyn Sawngfli.
They hadn’t found her in the foothills to the south, and now they were heading towards Gusia to continue the search. That much was clear. What troubled Eryn more was the why. Whatever was unfolding, Maerwyn was at the heart of it. And the more Eryn considered Thalrice’s movements, the more convinced she became that his purpose was not protection, but something far more malicious.
She knew now. Maerwyn was not with the men and the bear. That had been obvious from the beginning. But if Thalrice was willing to pursue her this aggressively, then whatever he intended for Maerwyn wasn’t simple reconnaissance.
Eryn owed Maerwyn a debt of gratitude. Without her, the caravan that night might not have survived. And though she wasn’t foolish enough to risk her people recklessly, she couldn’t just stand by and let Thalrice tighten the noose.
She turned to two of the camp’s best scouts. ‘Find out what’s happening on the cliffs south of here. If you can help, do it, but only if it’s safe. I won’t have you throwing your lives away.’
The scouts didn’t hesitate. They mounted up and vanished into the night.
They reached the brush at the foothills just thirty minutes later. There, they found the four horses the Lirionethians had left behind, a sign that their quarry wasn’t far. But the scouts were lightly armed, carrying only knives. They weren’t warriors. What they lacked in weapons, however, they made up for in cunning. They knew this land better than any outsider.
Moving like shadows, they crept through the undergrowth, undetected. It hadn’t taken much to get close to the three soldiers watching from the cliffs. No one spoke, not even in whispers. The soldiers weren’t using hand signals either, leaving the scouts with no clues about their intentions.
The Lirionethians crouched motionless among the shadows, eyes scanning the darkness ahead, muscles coiled like springs ready to snap. They listened intently, sensing the faintest shifts in the night air, every breath caught in the stillness as they waited for their prey to appear. Unaware of the scouts slipping quietly behind them, they missed the softest rustle in the undergrowth. The sky was pitch black, with no fires, only a few scattered stars piercing the clouds above. The scouts knew they were outmatched. Against three trained soldiers, armed with nothing but blades, a direct attack was suicide.
So they waited. And watched. And did not move.
Minutes stretched into hours as the night deepened, the darkness pressing heavier with each passing moment. The sea breeze picked up, whistling through the rocks, heavy with salt and the damp chill of stone. The three soldiers rotated their watch, taking turns to rest, their eyes never straying far from the cliffs below. They moved only in small, precise shifts, each motion careful and methodical, disturbing the air and ground as little as possible.
Then, without warning, the archer stood up and took aim and loosed an arrow into the night. The shot came fast and without warning, cutting down along the cliff face. There was no visible target, no call for confirmation. Just the hiss of an arrow slicing through the air.
A hollow quiet followed. No scream. No impact against flesh.
Grantchu flinched, his body recoiling as the arrow shattered against the rock, splintering just a stride from where he stood. He let the breath slip from his lungs. His hand locked around the hilt of his sword. It wasn’t meant to kill. It was meant to keep them awake.
The game had begun.
Every hour, another arrow. A constant reminder that they were watched. That any movement, any lapse in awareness, could mean death. The archer wasn’t trying to take their lives now. He was grinding them down, keeping them on edge, making them easier prey when daylight came.
And it worked.
Kaedryn hadn’t closed his eyes once. Neither had Grantchu. The night had stretched unbearably long, their bodies aching from tension, exhaustion creeping in like a slow poison. Vorruk stirred fitfully, his wounds stiffening, his breathing heavy.
The Camouflager had remained absent, but neither man was foolish enough to think she was gone. She was waiting too, just like the rest of them. That bolt of electricity had given her a nasty jolt, enough to keep her at bay for now. In rare cases, Grantchu knew he could stop a heart outright with a direct strike, but he doubted that had happened here. No, she was alive. She was patient. And when she struck again, it would be just as sudden and vicious as before.
Then, finally, the first pale streaks of dawn split the horizon. Tension still hung in the air, thick and unmoving, but the stalemate held. The Westerners remained trapped, exhaustion pulling at them like a lead weight, while the Lirionethians above remained in control. From his perch, the archer still held the high ground, and the others would soon move to flank from either side.
Any step beyond the shade of the cliffs would mean death.
Kaedryn tensed as faint movement echoed through the space around him, his mind shaping it into something near-visible.
‘They’re moving,’ he murmured to Grantchu.
The Lirionethians were shifting into position. The archer remained above, eyes fixed on the cliffs below, while the other two soldiers began their descent. One headed south, the other moved north.
But there was something else.
Kaedryn’s senses prickled. Two figures lurked in the shadows, watching. They had arrived late in the night and remained still, blending into the darkness without so much as a whisper or shift. Scouts. He couldn’t be certain, but they carried the quiet patience of those who belonged to the settler’s camp. He doubted they were with the Lirionethians. If anything, they were here for information.
Still, his focus remained on the immediate threat.
The descending soldiers were taking a tremendous risk. The cliffs, sheer white stone slick with moss and worn jagged by centuries of waves, offered few footholds and even fewer safe steps. Even in daylight, the uneven, slippery surfaces demanded every ounce of care, and in this low light, one misstep could send them plunging to their deaths. Yet down they came. The woman from the cliff top had taken the northern flank, and Kaedryn was sure she wouldn’t be alone. The Camouflager would be with her, lurking unseen.
To the south, the other soldier, a broad-shouldered brute, had chosen a descent point roughly seventy yards from their position. He was moving already, advancing steadily toward them.
The light was still too dim for a clear fight.
