Part Five
Nightfall
Chapter I
Solace rubbed her eyes and forced back a yawn. "I dunnae 'bout th' rest o'y'all, but I'm spent."
Montel came to a halt and nodded in agreement. "We've been marching all day, I'm used to sleeping at night, Mantis."
Mantis glanced back at the rest of the group. Solace was leaning against a tree, Lady Flynt against her bow, and Montel was stifling a yawn. "All right. We rest here. New march at daybreak. Sorry if I pushed too hard, I'm used to long marches."
"Quite alright, chap. Just don't do it too often. I reckon not more'n a half o' day from 'ere."
Lady Flynt nodded. "Aye. Time fer rest. I ain't first watch." She grinned and found a tree trunk to use as a backrest.
Montel raised a paw. "I'll take first and get a small fire going. I'm used to late nights as well." He nodded to Mantis. "Being in a horde has its advantages sometimes."
"Slave?" Mantis asked.
"For a short while." He looked back at Solace and chuckled. The hare was already fast asleep. "Look at that. Big eater and sleeper. We'll give her last watch, if that's alright with you Flynt."
The squirrelmaid nodded. "Go ahead. I'll take th' one before her."
Mantis adjusted his robe and gestured to their dark surroundings. "I have the feeling we might be near my old camp. I would like to find out before we light a fire. No sense attracting attention to ourselves with a stupid mistake."
Montel nodded. "I'll wait then." He watched the assassin vanish into the night. "You know, he's almost like having Ghost here again."
"Aye, but he's a little queer. Ghost never acted much like an assassin, Mantis does." Lady Flynt yawned. "Well, guess I won't be stayin' awake 'till supper tonight. I'm exhausted."
"Well, I'll see you in the morning, then."
Montel sought out a spot to set up a fire pit. After finding one and setting up a ring of stones to mark it, he stretched out on his back and stared skyward at the stars, picking out constellations and naming them, and even creating a few of his own, in an effort to pass the time while he waited Mantis' return.
Mantis pushed through the bush, trying to find some clue or trace of the Bloodslayers. He knew that they were some place near; he had intentionally tried to lead the group somewhere near the horde's camp. Now he just needed to find them. He made his way to a small patch of grass that had a clear view of the sky and paused to get his bearings. The horde was somewhere close, he knew it; he could feel it in his bones.
The assassin silently drew the hood of his black robe over his head and trekked onward, following instinct rather than direction. The gamble paid off, and he was rewarded with the sight of a distant watchfire.
Keeping well in the shadows, he crept towards the camp, making a big circle to avoid the night guard. There was a small break in the ring of watchfires at one end of the camp, which allowed Mantis to step from the trees and through the shadowy bridge where there was no light to reveal his position. He scanned the sleeping inhabitants of the camp for a moment and, not finding what he was looking for, made his way back into the forest.
Chapter II
Myriad shivered slightly and pulled her travel cloak tightly around her. The night breeze was unusually cold and piercing, and she could not risk a fire lest it reveal her position. Immediately to the right of her inadequate camp, a single fire was burning bright through a wall of trees. If she bothered, she could easily make out the three figures huddled around the campfire. Drawing the cloak tighter around her body, she closed her eyes and silently wished the cold away. Tomorrow, if all went as planned, she would not be alone any more.
Ghost stared into the fire as he stoked it.
"Well," he said, "Tomorrow we try again. I have a feeling about this area."
Blackstrike had her eyes closed and was on the verge of sleeping. "We've checked these parts all day. What makes ye think we'll find anythin' tomorrow?"
Arkain looked past the fire at Blackstrike. "We'll find somethin', an' hopefully soon. Ghost, where'd that Foxtribe bloke run after th' fight?"
Ghost threw the stick he had been using to stoke the fire into the orange flames. "If I knew I would not have been spending my time in Loamhedge. Besides, I don't think Foxtribe's anywhere around here, and Amethyst didn't seem like one to fall for any tricks from that horde."
Blackstrike opened her eyes and sighed. "She didn't seem like one t' just run off an' vanish, mate. I say we try t' check th' horde camp out."
Arkain drew a thin dirk and studied the keen blade in the firelight. "Seems dangerous, but Blackstrike could be right."
"I would have seen something if it were right outside of the gates." Ghost idly traced his paw through some soft dirt. "And I don't think she would have been lured out into the woods."
"'Ow close were ye watchin', Ghost?" Blackstrike snapped a small twig and threw the pieces into the fire. "I'm worried that she's in trouble an' I'm willin' t' try anythin' to get 'er back safe. She's a friend, an' I don't feel like loosin' anymore friends in this lifetime."
Ghost stood and brushed himself off. "Well, if you want the camp checked, I'll do it, but not tonight. I'll go tomorrow, and hopefully be back by nightfall with news." He placed a paw on Blackstrike's shoulder. "We'll find her, I promise."
Arkain picked up a small dirt clot and threw it at Ghost. "Hey, I used t' be in th' reconnaissance team back when I was younger. A black hare's got 'n edge at night."
"I'll remember that. Now get some rest. I'll take first watch, Arkain can have second, and Blackstrike, you can take the third. Arkain, wake me when you trade off with Blackstrike, I'll leave then."
"Shore ye want t' do this, mate?"
Ghost nodded. "Of course I am." He managed a faint grin. "It's my job."
Back in the shadows, unseen by all and watching everything that took place in the two camps, Darkbane chuckled to himself as he settled down for the night. There was no need to set a fire, his black robe kept him warm; and the fire would attract unwanted attention. There was also little need for a watch, as he doubted any of the three scouts from Loamhedge, or Myriad on her own, would bother casing their surroundings at night and alone. His job was simple, and had gone well so far. Trent and Scarstripe must not have realised how easy it was going to be. He grinned and wrapped his robe tightly about him. Everything was going as planned. Only one key needed to turn, and once it had opened its door...a cold glint shone in the assassin's eye.
Chapter III
Amethyst was huddled in the far corner of the camp, well away from any fire and watched relentlessly by cruel eyes. She was shivering, partly from the bitter cold, but primarily from weakness. A pair of ragged tears in the back of her habit was evidence of the day's labour; hours of moving barrels of oil whose purpose she could only guess. She had stumbled twice, and twice a slaver's whip had cracked on her. Now, hungry, cold and tired, she tried desperately to fall asleep.
Scarstripe had made a point of isolating her from all contact, save his own visits and the two weasels that watched her. She had not spoken to a friendly creature since Ghost on the ramparts, and already, thin wisps of despair were beginning to drift in and cloud her spirits.
With a heavy sigh, Amethyst lay back on the ground, mindful of the painful lashes on her back, and gazed at the stars above. Her thoughts turned to Loamhedge; to Blackstrike; and all the others who would probably be wondering where she was. Knowing Arkain and Blackstrike, they would probably set up a search party of some sort, but she could not see how a small group of abbey dwellers would stand a chance against a horde. The more she thought about it, the more hopeless things seemed.
She blinked away a single tear and closed her eyes. In her mind, she imagined her room in the abbey and her warm bed. She imagined herself there, amongst friends and everyone who had ever cared for her, and silently drifted off to sleep, her dreams never leaving home.
Trent paced slowly from wall to wall in Scarstripe's tent. Both of his paws were clasped behind his back and in spite of the tall and proud image he tried to carry, it was obvious he was spent and weary from a full day's work.
"I still think using fire is a bad way of gaining the abbey."
Scarstripe sat back in a chair and gave his advisor an inquisitive look. "Oh?"
"Yes. Think about the consequences. If you send those...firebombs into the building, even though it will eliminate all opposition, it will leave the structure weakened and useless as a stronghold."
Scarstripe chuckled. "Trent, you must be tired. You seem to have forgotten that we have slaves. We let them repair and rebuild what we destroy and conquer. Besides, if your plan works, then we should have no problems getting in and the use of fire will not be needed."
Trent had stopped pacing and he had locked his gaze on the striped weasel. "Well, let's hope my plan works then."
Scarstripe shook his head. "You'd better hope it works, I could care less. If it does not work, I will use mine, and I will soon have you replaced. What would Foxtribe do without a leader?"
"Appoint a new leader and seek vengeance for their fallen comrade." Trent narrowed his eyes and allowed his right paw to settle on the hilt of his rapier. "But that's not going to happen any time soon, is it?"
Scarstripe glanced at the rapier, then back at Trent. "Not if you do your job, Comrade. Do it right, and they won't have to." He stood. "You're dismissed for the night."
Trent bowed and backed out of the tent, leaving the horde leader alone with his thoughts. Hostility had suddenly appeared between them, and it would only lead to one thing: death. A war had started that would never see light of day unless conditions allowed it to.
He nodded to Blythe and scratched a non-existent itch on the side of his face before he stepped into his tent. The Foxtribe captain glanced around quickly and silently vanished through the flaps after his commander.
Back in his tent, Scarstripe frowned and looked over the crude maps of Loamhedge. He could sense the hostility that had sprung between Trent and himself, and he silently wished he still had a good spy around. Mantis was missing, and Darkbane was on assignment, which meant he would just have to rely on his own cunning and skills. If Trent was going to try anything, he wanted to be ready to retaliate. He chuckled. Covert war was one of his favourite games.
Chapter IV
Ghost was roused from his sleep by a gentle nudge from Arkain. The stars were still glowing overhead, though the moon had already set. Dawn had yet to break over the horizon. The black hare silently pulled him to his feet and nodded a good morning before hopping off. Ghost watched him for a moment and nodded to himself before glancing at Blackstrike. She was standing by the fire, arms clasped at the wrist behind her back as the light from the fire danced about the thoughtful expression on her face. She looked up and nodded to Ghost, solemnity showing in her dark eyes.
"Luck be with you, Ghost. Last I recall, their camp was to the east of here." She looked back at the fire and lapsed into silence.
Ghost nodded and managed a slight grin. "I'll be back."
Blackstrike nodded and remained silent. Ghost, sensing there was nothing more to say, drew his robe about him to fend off the cool morning air and entered the dark forest. Blackstrike glanced behind her, making sure he had gone, before she pulled a worn, weather beaten book from the folds of her Loamhedge habit. She admired the engraved letters 'E' and 'W', which were written in Loamscript. She idly thumbed through the pages before turning back to the first. Her eyes ran over the lines as she read what little she could. Amethyst had tried to teach her the abbey's written language, but she had not been the best pupil. Still, she could understand some of what it said.
"Ghost, don't let the past kill you." She turned to the last page and pulled a small pencil from her habit.
Myriad had not slept much, and not very well. The lack of fire to fight the cold air had left her shivering most of the night. She was not sure when, but late in the night she had finally drifted into some semblance of what could very well have been sleep. A dream had started to form when it was all shattered. A sharp crack put all of her senses on alert and even started an adrenaline rush. She jumped to her feet and looked around; fearing first that some beast was going to attack her. When nothing of the sort happened, she looked towards the camp she had been watching and felt her heart jump.
She edged forward to get a better look at the camp, hoping that the ferret was just sleeping somewhere and not truly gone. When she confirmed her fears, she hurriedly looked around for any sign of him. There was a soft rustle of bush and crinkle of leaves to her right, so she followed it, noting that the footsteps were heading north.
The morning sun was just peaking over the horizon, making it slightly easier to trek through the forest. Moreover, she could now faintly see the outline of Ghost, clad in his dark green robe, slowly making his way over half hidden roots and tangles of branches. With a grim determination, she followed, keeping well out of view and hidden from the other ferret.
Ghost's ear twitched. He had yet to hear or see anything, but instinct was telling him he was being followed. An idea crossed his mind, and he reached down for the reassuring feeling of his daggers, only to find a grim reminder of where he was going. The sheaths were still empty, and served only to remind him of the past he sought to leave behind him. He growled silently at the memories.
He came to a sudden stop as a thought struck him. Why, if he sought to forget the past, was he trekking back to his old camp? A deafening silence fell over the forest, broken only by his own, steady breathing. The question rang in his mind like a bell, seeking out the single answer he knew existed, but was not willing to admit. He wanted to say the farewell to Celleste that he had been denied.
The life and energy seemed to drain from him, and his shoulders fell with a heavy sigh. Taking a deep breath to help control his own emotions, he continued towards the old camp. He guessed, based on what surroundings he could remember, that the clearing where the camp had been was not far off. As he was walking, his foot kicked something, and he heard a loud snap. He glanced down and saw the broken shaft of a black arrow, the same he had seen Trent using during the battle against Starbane, confirming his guess that the camp was near.
Pausing to collect himself, and brace himself for whatever he might find, Ghost pushed through a hedge and found himself looking at four graves, all set side by side and each marked by the weapon that had once belonged to the grave's owner. Ghost hung his head at the sight and fought back a single tear that was threatening to form. After a moment of deep, almost deafening silence, he looked up at the first of the four graves, buried halfway to the hilt as a marker was the longsword that had belonged to Corbin. Ghost knelt at the foot of the grave.
"Corbin, you served the Watch well. I am sorry it had to end the way it did. Rest easy knowing your troubles are now over, and that your story will be remembered always." He stood and walked to the second grave. "Elflein, I am sorry I was not able to protect your sister, and was unable to keep both of you alive. Forgive me. You were a perfect example of all the Watch stood for. Farewell, I will miss you."
The last two graves were set adjacent to one another, and tears welled up in his eyes as he saw the shortsword and twin daggers placed together. "Celleste, I owe you the greatest apology of all, and I regret that it comes too late. You were right about Trent, and I refused to listen. By the time I did, it was too late for both of us." He reached out and took the shortsword. "I will avenge the deaths of you and our friends, or die trying. Maybe I will see you shortly."
Ghost had been able to keep the tears from falling, and he lapsed into a long moment of silence. Thoughts coursed through his mind about the past; how he had met the individual members of Eagle Watch, and the ultimate downfall of the group he had forged and led. He leaned against the hilt of the shortsword and closed his eyes tightly to the pictures in his mind.
A sudden, soft crack made his ears twitch and his eyes shoot open. During the process of revisiting the past, he had forgotten about the unknown beast following him. Whoever it was had taken great care to remain silent, so he played along and acted as though he had not heard their approach. Soft footfalls drew nearer, and he faintly heard a cloak being moved by the air. In a sudden, swift movement, he turned and swung the sword about, pointing it directly at the intruder's chest. The movement was successful in kicking up a lot of dirt and bringing the beast's advance to a sudden halt.
"Who are you and why are you here?" Ghost narrowed his eyes as he glared at the figure through the settling dust and dirt.
The figure had turned away, raising the cloak up to protect the eyes from dust. At Ghost's harsh question, Myriad lowered the cloak and wiped the tears from her eyes.
"My name's Myriad. I was followin' ye."
Ghost lowered the sword immediately and stared at her. His first stunned impression was that he was seeing Celleste, but all sense, reinforced by her answer to his questions, had convinced him otherwise.
"Why are you following me?"
"I heard from Trent 'bout what happened t' ye. I wanted t' see ye."
Ghost stood, his anger flaring at the mention of the Foxtribe leader's name. "Where can I find Trent?"
"Don't waist yer time. He's in with th' leader of a horde. Yer not gonna get t' 'im anytime soon." She dried the damp patches of fur under her eyes and looked down at the four graves. "I'm sorry 'bout what happened t' ye, I truly am."
Ghost snorted. "Ha, sure." He slid Celleste's shortsword into his belt and knelt to retrieve his daggers.
"I really am." Myriad knelt beside the graves. "Who were they?"
"Heroes. Corbin Swiftblade, Elflein, and Celleste."
Myriad shot him a funny look. "Who was th' fourth?"
"What do you mean?"
You only said three names. There are four graves." She pointed to the fourth. "Who was that?"
Ghost locked his daggers in their sheaths. "Me. Now do me a favour and tell me where I can find Trent."
"Ye'll die if ye go 'bout it that way."
Ghost looked down at the graves. "That would solve all my problems."
Myriad drew herself up and grabbed him by the arm. "Listen t' me."
Ghost started to pull away, but was shocked by Myriad's strong grip. He looked up at her.
"Ye don't have t' take yer revenge like that." She released him and pulled her travel cloak tight about her. "I can help."
"How so?"
She grinned and locked eyes with him. "I'm a member of th' horde, I could try t' lure 'im out."
Ghost shook his head. "I can't let you do that."
"Why not?"
"I don't want any beast to die because of my fight."
"What if I told ye it was my fight to."
The two stared at one another, Myriad grinning coolly and Ghost dead serious.
"Tell me more," he said at last.
Myriad's grin grew. "With pleasure."
Chapter V
Montel was roused from his sleep by the morning sun. He slowly opened his eyes and let them focus on an overhanging branch while he listened to the sounds around him. The smells of cakes being cooked over the fire caught his nose and urged him to look around. Solace was crouching by the campfire, focused on her cooking. Lady Flynt was leaning against a tree, talking to Mantis. The ermine, although he was actively participating in the conversation, seemed preoccupied. He caught Montel watching them and grinned.
"Well, look who decided to join the land of the living. Good morning."
Montel nodded in response. "Good morning to all of you. Solace, what's cooking?"
"Blackberry oatcakes. I found a blackberry bush nearby, an' I'm usin' some ingredients brought by our guest."
Lady Flynt stood and made her way over to the badger. "Mantis says we're near his old horde, but he can get us to Loam'edge by the end of the day."
Montel pushed himself up. "Well, that's good. The sooner the better." He stretched and made his way over to the fire. "How long until breakfast is ready?"
"Sooner than it'll take y't' ask again. Here, take'ne." He scooped one of the cakes off of the skillet and tossed it to Montel. "Careful, chap, it's hot."
Montel had to juggle the cake from paw to paw until it had cooled enough to eat. "Are we ready to go on to Loamhedge?"
"Aye, at least I am." Solace placed the rest of the cakes on a wooden tray made from peeled bark and started passing them around to the others. "Sooner I'm out o' these woods, th' better. I'm not too partial t' livin' within walkin' distance of a horde."
Lady Flynt nodded as she bit into a cake. "Mmhhmmm." She swallowed. "I agree. I just want to get back in the company of others. No offence to the three of ya."
Mantis drew the hood of his robe over his face as he watched the three others. "I will lead you to the gates when you are ready."
Montel grinned. "I look forward to seeing Ghost, if he's still alive."
"Oh, I trust he is. Can't kill a Ghost, y'know." Solace grinned and downed one of the cakes in a single gulp. "If y' try, they come back t' haunt ya." She chuckled. "It'll be good t' see 'im again."
"I bet you'd get along with him, Mantis." Lady Flynt smiled at the ermine. "He was an assassin too."
Mantis nodded. "I would like to meet him. There are a few things I would like to ask him."
"Well, you're gonna get yer chance. Come on, as soon as I set eyes on those gates, I'm racin' th' rest o' y' all there." Solace let out a loud whoop. "Lead on Mantis!"
Mantis beckoned them on, not sharing in the excitement they had. Why would he want to, he did not share anything with them? Even now, he was leading them on to a place he knew he would not fit in. There was nothing for him at Loamhedge, and nothing for him to be excited over. It was as though he was walking into his own death.
Chapter VI
Amethyst woke to the crack of a whip and was forced suddenly out of the pleasant dreams that had comforted her through the night. Her back throbbed and her muscles protested, knowing that the day was only going to be filled with more work. She stood and looked back at the whip-wielding rat.
"Come on, ain't no work t'day. Boss wants t' see ya." He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and started shoving her towards Scarstripe's tent. "Hurry up, yer slow."
"Well, I'd go faster if you removed the shackles from my ankles, genius."
He stopped and threw her to the ground. "Don't be givin' me no smart talk. I ain't ordered t' put up with it. I've got a whip, remember?"
Amethyst nodded and pushed herself to her feet. "Then lead on."
He grabbed her by the shoulder again, making sure to dig his nails in to her skin until a faint bloodstain formed on the shoulder of her habit. Amethyst ignored the stinging pain and walked on, as though oblivious to the harsh treatment. When they arrived at the tent, the rat shoved her through the flaps. She stumbled and fell, and when she pushed herself up, she found herself staring at the cold face of Scarstripe.
"Well, what have we got here?" He offered a paw to her, but she declined.
"I can get up on my own, thank you."
He nodded. "Very well. Do you know why you're here?"
"Yes, a stupid fox jumped me and tied me up. Then some genius rat dragged me to the tent, where I suddenly found myself in front of you."
Scarstripe glared at her. "I don't like your attitude. That is something you'll have to change."
Amethyst smiled mockingly. "As you wish, master."
"It would be in your best interests to remain silent for the time being, if you don't want to see Blackstrike here, dead, any time soon."
Amethyst stared at him. "I don't believe you could do that."
Scarstripe chuckled. "Oh, well, believe it or not, but one of my assassins is watching them as we speak. She is with a ferret and a hare, and they are all looking for you. With nothing more than a word sent by my messenger, all of them could be dead by the end of the day." He grinned coldly, enjoying the sudden power he had over her. "Now I want you to do something for me."
Amethyst was beaten; she knew it. There was nothing else she could do but give in to whatever he wanted. "What could I possibly do that you want me to?"
"Tell me all about Loamhedge. I want to know every little detail stored in your worthless mind."
Trent sat back in the chair Scarstripe had thoughtfully provided in his tent. Standing by the tent flaps, looking out across the camp, was Blythe. Both foxes were deep in thought, a state that was betrayed by the ominous silence that had fallen between them. Trent sat up and rubbed his eyes wearily, catching Blythe's attention as he did.
"When do we attack?"
Blythe idly toyed with the hilt of his dagger. "The time will come when the slaves choose to revolt. We will be able to strike unnoticed. Do you think your decision is a wise one?"
"Of course, my dear Second. We have clearly overstayed our welcome, and that pitiful weasel is just now deciding I'm too smart. You and I both know all too well how insecure these horde leaders can be."
"Aye, I remember. Starbane was terrible about getting rid of supposed threats to his command." Blythe grinned and chuckled. "So it is decided then?"
"Tonight, when they are moving the last loads. Inform the others and instruct them all accordingly. We will leave shortly thereafter." Trent leaned back in his chair. "Besides, I think it is time Foxtribe moved on to new hunting grounds."
Blythe nodded and stepped out of the tent, leaving Trent alone to brood on his plan. The clever, sometimes seemingly insane leader of Foxtribe had an uncanny way of dealing with potential enemies. One of Trent's favourite games was outsmarting other beasts, especially when it turned to covert espionage. His plan now was to deal one powerful blow that would leave the Bloodslayers crippled, and then fade away into the night. To continue the war afterward, through guerrilla style warfare was going to depend on Trent's mood, and the outcome of the initial attack.
"No one can outfox a fox." Blythe grinned slightly as he muttered Trent's personal saying on covert warfare.
He cut through the camp; heading towards the small out of the way corner that had been designated Foxtribe Territory. Scarstripe had intentionally set Trent's tent away from the camp; it did nothing but make the tribe laugh at the weasel's paranoia. Blythe waved and caught the attention of an old, one-eyed fox and longstanding member of the tribe.
"Khale, I need to discuss something with you." Blythe bowed slightly as the old fox stood and made his way over. "We are running Torch tonight. Ready the tribe and make sure all of them are ready."
Khale's face remained emotionless and cold. "T'night? Bit soon."
"Trent thinks it's time we moved on."
A thin grin spread on Khale's timeworn face. "I couldn't agree more. We'll be ready by nightfall."
Blythe grinned. "Good. Let's leave the Bloodslayers something to remember us by."
Chapter VII
Ghost leaned back against a tree as he contemplated what Myriad had told him. The other ferret was pacing and glancing occasionally at the four graves. She stopped when Ghost spoke up.
"So, he does have Amethyst, and he is planning to attack Loamhedge."
Myriad nodded. "Aye, and he's gonna burn it down."
He glanced up at her. "Tell me more about those firebombs. How do they work?"
"Well, th' canisters are opened, an' th' top layer's lit on fire. A catapult is used t' throw th' canister into th' fortress, where it'll explode, sendin' fire everywhere. I've seen 'em used b'fore. They're very deadly."
"Is there anything or any way to defend against them?"
Myriad shook her head. "No. Unless ye can keep 'em on th' ground."
Ghost looked up at her and watched as she knelt by Corbin's grave and examined the longsword.
"Why are you helping me?"
She looked over her shoulder at him and stood. "To be honest, I can't say." She waked over to where he was leaning against the tree and stood in front of him. "When I heard what'd happened t' ye, I guess I just viewed ye as a fallen legend."
"So you're helping me because you feel sorry for me?" Ghost shook his head. "Don't feel sorry for me, I'm just a ghost."
Ghost pushed past her and started to leave. Myriad quickly grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him.
"I'm helpin' ye 'cause I think that yer in th' right. Th' Bloodslayers fight 'cause they want blood. Ye fight 'cause ye want justice. Am I right?"
Ghost nodded and she released him. "I fight for justice, and this time I also fight for revenge. If you are going to help me," He looked back and locked eyes with her. For a fleeting moment, he relived something, which quickly forced him to look away. "If you are going to help me, be careful."
Myriad smiled softly behind him. "Don't worry 'bout me. I can watch m'own back."
"Good. Now, if you'd be so kind, I'd like to see the where Trent's hiding."
"Just follow me." She smiled and motioned him to follow her to the camp.
Nightfall
Chapter I
Solace rubbed her eyes and forced back a yawn. "I dunnae 'bout th' rest o'y'all, but I'm spent."
Montel came to a halt and nodded in agreement. "We've been marching all day, I'm used to sleeping at night, Mantis."
Mantis glanced back at the rest of the group. Solace was leaning against a tree, Lady Flynt against her bow, and Montel was stifling a yawn. "All right. We rest here. New march at daybreak. Sorry if I pushed too hard, I'm used to long marches."
"Quite alright, chap. Just don't do it too often. I reckon not more'n a half o' day from 'ere."
Lady Flynt nodded. "Aye. Time fer rest. I ain't first watch." She grinned and found a tree trunk to use as a backrest.
Montel raised a paw. "I'll take first and get a small fire going. I'm used to late nights as well." He nodded to Mantis. "Being in a horde has its advantages sometimes."
"Slave?" Mantis asked.
"For a short while." He looked back at Solace and chuckled. The hare was already fast asleep. "Look at that. Big eater and sleeper. We'll give her last watch, if that's alright with you Flynt."
The squirrelmaid nodded. "Go ahead. I'll take th' one before her."
Mantis adjusted his robe and gestured to their dark surroundings. "I have the feeling we might be near my old camp. I would like to find out before we light a fire. No sense attracting attention to ourselves with a stupid mistake."
Montel nodded. "I'll wait then." He watched the assassin vanish into the night. "You know, he's almost like having Ghost here again."
"Aye, but he's a little queer. Ghost never acted much like an assassin, Mantis does." Lady Flynt yawned. "Well, guess I won't be stayin' awake 'till supper tonight. I'm exhausted."
"Well, I'll see you in the morning, then."
Montel sought out a spot to set up a fire pit. After finding one and setting up a ring of stones to mark it, he stretched out on his back and stared skyward at the stars, picking out constellations and naming them, and even creating a few of his own, in an effort to pass the time while he waited Mantis' return.
Mantis pushed through the bush, trying to find some clue or trace of the Bloodslayers. He knew that they were some place near; he had intentionally tried to lead the group somewhere near the horde's camp. Now he just needed to find them. He made his way to a small patch of grass that had a clear view of the sky and paused to get his bearings. The horde was somewhere close, he knew it; he could feel it in his bones.
The assassin silently drew the hood of his black robe over his head and trekked onward, following instinct rather than direction. The gamble paid off, and he was rewarded with the sight of a distant watchfire.
Keeping well in the shadows, he crept towards the camp, making a big circle to avoid the night guard. There was a small break in the ring of watchfires at one end of the camp, which allowed Mantis to step from the trees and through the shadowy bridge where there was no light to reveal his position. He scanned the sleeping inhabitants of the camp for a moment and, not finding what he was looking for, made his way back into the forest.
Chapter II
Myriad shivered slightly and pulled her travel cloak tightly around her. The night breeze was unusually cold and piercing, and she could not risk a fire lest it reveal her position. Immediately to the right of her inadequate camp, a single fire was burning bright through a wall of trees. If she bothered, she could easily make out the three figures huddled around the campfire. Drawing the cloak tighter around her body, she closed her eyes and silently wished the cold away. Tomorrow, if all went as planned, she would not be alone any more.
Ghost stared into the fire as he stoked it.
"Well," he said, "Tomorrow we try again. I have a feeling about this area."
Blackstrike had her eyes closed and was on the verge of sleeping. "We've checked these parts all day. What makes ye think we'll find anythin' tomorrow?"
Arkain looked past the fire at Blackstrike. "We'll find somethin', an' hopefully soon. Ghost, where'd that Foxtribe bloke run after th' fight?"
Ghost threw the stick he had been using to stoke the fire into the orange flames. "If I knew I would not have been spending my time in Loamhedge. Besides, I don't think Foxtribe's anywhere around here, and Amethyst didn't seem like one to fall for any tricks from that horde."
Blackstrike opened her eyes and sighed. "She didn't seem like one t' just run off an' vanish, mate. I say we try t' check th' horde camp out."
Arkain drew a thin dirk and studied the keen blade in the firelight. "Seems dangerous, but Blackstrike could be right."
"I would have seen something if it were right outside of the gates." Ghost idly traced his paw through some soft dirt. "And I don't think she would have been lured out into the woods."
"'Ow close were ye watchin', Ghost?" Blackstrike snapped a small twig and threw the pieces into the fire. "I'm worried that she's in trouble an' I'm willin' t' try anythin' to get 'er back safe. She's a friend, an' I don't feel like loosin' anymore friends in this lifetime."
Ghost stood and brushed himself off. "Well, if you want the camp checked, I'll do it, but not tonight. I'll go tomorrow, and hopefully be back by nightfall with news." He placed a paw on Blackstrike's shoulder. "We'll find her, I promise."
Arkain picked up a small dirt clot and threw it at Ghost. "Hey, I used t' be in th' reconnaissance team back when I was younger. A black hare's got 'n edge at night."
"I'll remember that. Now get some rest. I'll take first watch, Arkain can have second, and Blackstrike, you can take the third. Arkain, wake me when you trade off with Blackstrike, I'll leave then."
"Shore ye want t' do this, mate?"
Ghost nodded. "Of course I am." He managed a faint grin. "It's my job."
Back in the shadows, unseen by all and watching everything that took place in the two camps, Darkbane chuckled to himself as he settled down for the night. There was no need to set a fire, his black robe kept him warm; and the fire would attract unwanted attention. There was also little need for a watch, as he doubted any of the three scouts from Loamhedge, or Myriad on her own, would bother casing their surroundings at night and alone. His job was simple, and had gone well so far. Trent and Scarstripe must not have realised how easy it was going to be. He grinned and wrapped his robe tightly about him. Everything was going as planned. Only one key needed to turn, and once it had opened its door...a cold glint shone in the assassin's eye.
Chapter III
Amethyst was huddled in the far corner of the camp, well away from any fire and watched relentlessly by cruel eyes. She was shivering, partly from the bitter cold, but primarily from weakness. A pair of ragged tears in the back of her habit was evidence of the day's labour; hours of moving barrels of oil whose purpose she could only guess. She had stumbled twice, and twice a slaver's whip had cracked on her. Now, hungry, cold and tired, she tried desperately to fall asleep.
Scarstripe had made a point of isolating her from all contact, save his own visits and the two weasels that watched her. She had not spoken to a friendly creature since Ghost on the ramparts, and already, thin wisps of despair were beginning to drift in and cloud her spirits.
With a heavy sigh, Amethyst lay back on the ground, mindful of the painful lashes on her back, and gazed at the stars above. Her thoughts turned to Loamhedge; to Blackstrike; and all the others who would probably be wondering where she was. Knowing Arkain and Blackstrike, they would probably set up a search party of some sort, but she could not see how a small group of abbey dwellers would stand a chance against a horde. The more she thought about it, the more hopeless things seemed.
She blinked away a single tear and closed her eyes. In her mind, she imagined her room in the abbey and her warm bed. She imagined herself there, amongst friends and everyone who had ever cared for her, and silently drifted off to sleep, her dreams never leaving home.
Trent paced slowly from wall to wall in Scarstripe's tent. Both of his paws were clasped behind his back and in spite of the tall and proud image he tried to carry, it was obvious he was spent and weary from a full day's work.
"I still think using fire is a bad way of gaining the abbey."
Scarstripe sat back in a chair and gave his advisor an inquisitive look. "Oh?"
"Yes. Think about the consequences. If you send those...firebombs into the building, even though it will eliminate all opposition, it will leave the structure weakened and useless as a stronghold."
Scarstripe chuckled. "Trent, you must be tired. You seem to have forgotten that we have slaves. We let them repair and rebuild what we destroy and conquer. Besides, if your plan works, then we should have no problems getting in and the use of fire will not be needed."
Trent had stopped pacing and he had locked his gaze on the striped weasel. "Well, let's hope my plan works then."
Scarstripe shook his head. "You'd better hope it works, I could care less. If it does not work, I will use mine, and I will soon have you replaced. What would Foxtribe do without a leader?"
"Appoint a new leader and seek vengeance for their fallen comrade." Trent narrowed his eyes and allowed his right paw to settle on the hilt of his rapier. "But that's not going to happen any time soon, is it?"
Scarstripe glanced at the rapier, then back at Trent. "Not if you do your job, Comrade. Do it right, and they won't have to." He stood. "You're dismissed for the night."
Trent bowed and backed out of the tent, leaving the horde leader alone with his thoughts. Hostility had suddenly appeared between them, and it would only lead to one thing: death. A war had started that would never see light of day unless conditions allowed it to.
He nodded to Blythe and scratched a non-existent itch on the side of his face before he stepped into his tent. The Foxtribe captain glanced around quickly and silently vanished through the flaps after his commander.
Back in his tent, Scarstripe frowned and looked over the crude maps of Loamhedge. He could sense the hostility that had sprung between Trent and himself, and he silently wished he still had a good spy around. Mantis was missing, and Darkbane was on assignment, which meant he would just have to rely on his own cunning and skills. If Trent was going to try anything, he wanted to be ready to retaliate. He chuckled. Covert war was one of his favourite games.
Chapter IV
Ghost was roused from his sleep by a gentle nudge from Arkain. The stars were still glowing overhead, though the moon had already set. Dawn had yet to break over the horizon. The black hare silently pulled him to his feet and nodded a good morning before hopping off. Ghost watched him for a moment and nodded to himself before glancing at Blackstrike. She was standing by the fire, arms clasped at the wrist behind her back as the light from the fire danced about the thoughtful expression on her face. She looked up and nodded to Ghost, solemnity showing in her dark eyes.
"Luck be with you, Ghost. Last I recall, their camp was to the east of here." She looked back at the fire and lapsed into silence.
Ghost nodded and managed a slight grin. "I'll be back."
Blackstrike nodded and remained silent. Ghost, sensing there was nothing more to say, drew his robe about him to fend off the cool morning air and entered the dark forest. Blackstrike glanced behind her, making sure he had gone, before she pulled a worn, weather beaten book from the folds of her Loamhedge habit. She admired the engraved letters 'E' and 'W', which were written in Loamscript. She idly thumbed through the pages before turning back to the first. Her eyes ran over the lines as she read what little she could. Amethyst had tried to teach her the abbey's written language, but she had not been the best pupil. Still, she could understand some of what it said.
"Ghost, don't let the past kill you." She turned to the last page and pulled a small pencil from her habit.
Myriad had not slept much, and not very well. The lack of fire to fight the cold air had left her shivering most of the night. She was not sure when, but late in the night she had finally drifted into some semblance of what could very well have been sleep. A dream had started to form when it was all shattered. A sharp crack put all of her senses on alert and even started an adrenaline rush. She jumped to her feet and looked around; fearing first that some beast was going to attack her. When nothing of the sort happened, she looked towards the camp she had been watching and felt her heart jump.
She edged forward to get a better look at the camp, hoping that the ferret was just sleeping somewhere and not truly gone. When she confirmed her fears, she hurriedly looked around for any sign of him. There was a soft rustle of bush and crinkle of leaves to her right, so she followed it, noting that the footsteps were heading north.
The morning sun was just peaking over the horizon, making it slightly easier to trek through the forest. Moreover, she could now faintly see the outline of Ghost, clad in his dark green robe, slowly making his way over half hidden roots and tangles of branches. With a grim determination, she followed, keeping well out of view and hidden from the other ferret.
Ghost's ear twitched. He had yet to hear or see anything, but instinct was telling him he was being followed. An idea crossed his mind, and he reached down for the reassuring feeling of his daggers, only to find a grim reminder of where he was going. The sheaths were still empty, and served only to remind him of the past he sought to leave behind him. He growled silently at the memories.
He came to a sudden stop as a thought struck him. Why, if he sought to forget the past, was he trekking back to his old camp? A deafening silence fell over the forest, broken only by his own, steady breathing. The question rang in his mind like a bell, seeking out the single answer he knew existed, but was not willing to admit. He wanted to say the farewell to Celleste that he had been denied.
The life and energy seemed to drain from him, and his shoulders fell with a heavy sigh. Taking a deep breath to help control his own emotions, he continued towards the old camp. He guessed, based on what surroundings he could remember, that the clearing where the camp had been was not far off. As he was walking, his foot kicked something, and he heard a loud snap. He glanced down and saw the broken shaft of a black arrow, the same he had seen Trent using during the battle against Starbane, confirming his guess that the camp was near.
Pausing to collect himself, and brace himself for whatever he might find, Ghost pushed through a hedge and found himself looking at four graves, all set side by side and each marked by the weapon that had once belonged to the grave's owner. Ghost hung his head at the sight and fought back a single tear that was threatening to form. After a moment of deep, almost deafening silence, he looked up at the first of the four graves, buried halfway to the hilt as a marker was the longsword that had belonged to Corbin. Ghost knelt at the foot of the grave.
"Corbin, you served the Watch well. I am sorry it had to end the way it did. Rest easy knowing your troubles are now over, and that your story will be remembered always." He stood and walked to the second grave. "Elflein, I am sorry I was not able to protect your sister, and was unable to keep both of you alive. Forgive me. You were a perfect example of all the Watch stood for. Farewell, I will miss you."
The last two graves were set adjacent to one another, and tears welled up in his eyes as he saw the shortsword and twin daggers placed together. "Celleste, I owe you the greatest apology of all, and I regret that it comes too late. You were right about Trent, and I refused to listen. By the time I did, it was too late for both of us." He reached out and took the shortsword. "I will avenge the deaths of you and our friends, or die trying. Maybe I will see you shortly."
Ghost had been able to keep the tears from falling, and he lapsed into a long moment of silence. Thoughts coursed through his mind about the past; how he had met the individual members of Eagle Watch, and the ultimate downfall of the group he had forged and led. He leaned against the hilt of the shortsword and closed his eyes tightly to the pictures in his mind.
A sudden, soft crack made his ears twitch and his eyes shoot open. During the process of revisiting the past, he had forgotten about the unknown beast following him. Whoever it was had taken great care to remain silent, so he played along and acted as though he had not heard their approach. Soft footfalls drew nearer, and he faintly heard a cloak being moved by the air. In a sudden, swift movement, he turned and swung the sword about, pointing it directly at the intruder's chest. The movement was successful in kicking up a lot of dirt and bringing the beast's advance to a sudden halt.
"Who are you and why are you here?" Ghost narrowed his eyes as he glared at the figure through the settling dust and dirt.
The figure had turned away, raising the cloak up to protect the eyes from dust. At Ghost's harsh question, Myriad lowered the cloak and wiped the tears from her eyes.
"My name's Myriad. I was followin' ye."
Ghost lowered the sword immediately and stared at her. His first stunned impression was that he was seeing Celleste, but all sense, reinforced by her answer to his questions, had convinced him otherwise.
"Why are you following me?"
"I heard from Trent 'bout what happened t' ye. I wanted t' see ye."
Ghost stood, his anger flaring at the mention of the Foxtribe leader's name. "Where can I find Trent?"
"Don't waist yer time. He's in with th' leader of a horde. Yer not gonna get t' 'im anytime soon." She dried the damp patches of fur under her eyes and looked down at the four graves. "I'm sorry 'bout what happened t' ye, I truly am."
Ghost snorted. "Ha, sure." He slid Celleste's shortsword into his belt and knelt to retrieve his daggers.
"I really am." Myriad knelt beside the graves. "Who were they?"
"Heroes. Corbin Swiftblade, Elflein, and Celleste."
Myriad shot him a funny look. "Who was th' fourth?"
"What do you mean?"
You only said three names. There are four graves." She pointed to the fourth. "Who was that?"
Ghost locked his daggers in their sheaths. "Me. Now do me a favour and tell me where I can find Trent."
"Ye'll die if ye go 'bout it that way."
Ghost looked down at the graves. "That would solve all my problems."
Myriad drew herself up and grabbed him by the arm. "Listen t' me."
Ghost started to pull away, but was shocked by Myriad's strong grip. He looked up at her.
"Ye don't have t' take yer revenge like that." She released him and pulled her travel cloak tight about her. "I can help."
"How so?"
She grinned and locked eyes with him. "I'm a member of th' horde, I could try t' lure 'im out."
Ghost shook his head. "I can't let you do that."
"Why not?"
"I don't want any beast to die because of my fight."
"What if I told ye it was my fight to."
The two stared at one another, Myriad grinning coolly and Ghost dead serious.
"Tell me more," he said at last.
Myriad's grin grew. "With pleasure."
Chapter V
Montel was roused from his sleep by the morning sun. He slowly opened his eyes and let them focus on an overhanging branch while he listened to the sounds around him. The smells of cakes being cooked over the fire caught his nose and urged him to look around. Solace was crouching by the campfire, focused on her cooking. Lady Flynt was leaning against a tree, talking to Mantis. The ermine, although he was actively participating in the conversation, seemed preoccupied. He caught Montel watching them and grinned.
"Well, look who decided to join the land of the living. Good morning."
Montel nodded in response. "Good morning to all of you. Solace, what's cooking?"
"Blackberry oatcakes. I found a blackberry bush nearby, an' I'm usin' some ingredients brought by our guest."
Lady Flynt stood and made her way over to the badger. "Mantis says we're near his old horde, but he can get us to Loam'edge by the end of the day."
Montel pushed himself up. "Well, that's good. The sooner the better." He stretched and made his way over to the fire. "How long until breakfast is ready?"
"Sooner than it'll take y't' ask again. Here, take'ne." He scooped one of the cakes off of the skillet and tossed it to Montel. "Careful, chap, it's hot."
Montel had to juggle the cake from paw to paw until it had cooled enough to eat. "Are we ready to go on to Loamhedge?"
"Aye, at least I am." Solace placed the rest of the cakes on a wooden tray made from peeled bark and started passing them around to the others. "Sooner I'm out o' these woods, th' better. I'm not too partial t' livin' within walkin' distance of a horde."
Lady Flynt nodded as she bit into a cake. "Mmhhmmm." She swallowed. "I agree. I just want to get back in the company of others. No offence to the three of ya."
Mantis drew the hood of his robe over his face as he watched the three others. "I will lead you to the gates when you are ready."
Montel grinned. "I look forward to seeing Ghost, if he's still alive."
"Oh, I trust he is. Can't kill a Ghost, y'know." Solace grinned and downed one of the cakes in a single gulp. "If y' try, they come back t' haunt ya." She chuckled. "It'll be good t' see 'im again."
"I bet you'd get along with him, Mantis." Lady Flynt smiled at the ermine. "He was an assassin too."
Mantis nodded. "I would like to meet him. There are a few things I would like to ask him."
"Well, you're gonna get yer chance. Come on, as soon as I set eyes on those gates, I'm racin' th' rest o' y' all there." Solace let out a loud whoop. "Lead on Mantis!"
Mantis beckoned them on, not sharing in the excitement they had. Why would he want to, he did not share anything with them? Even now, he was leading them on to a place he knew he would not fit in. There was nothing for him at Loamhedge, and nothing for him to be excited over. It was as though he was walking into his own death.
Chapter VI
Amethyst woke to the crack of a whip and was forced suddenly out of the pleasant dreams that had comforted her through the night. Her back throbbed and her muscles protested, knowing that the day was only going to be filled with more work. She stood and looked back at the whip-wielding rat.
"Come on, ain't no work t'day. Boss wants t' see ya." He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and started shoving her towards Scarstripe's tent. "Hurry up, yer slow."
"Well, I'd go faster if you removed the shackles from my ankles, genius."
He stopped and threw her to the ground. "Don't be givin' me no smart talk. I ain't ordered t' put up with it. I've got a whip, remember?"
Amethyst nodded and pushed herself to her feet. "Then lead on."
He grabbed her by the shoulder again, making sure to dig his nails in to her skin until a faint bloodstain formed on the shoulder of her habit. Amethyst ignored the stinging pain and walked on, as though oblivious to the harsh treatment. When they arrived at the tent, the rat shoved her through the flaps. She stumbled and fell, and when she pushed herself up, she found herself staring at the cold face of Scarstripe.
"Well, what have we got here?" He offered a paw to her, but she declined.
"I can get up on my own, thank you."
He nodded. "Very well. Do you know why you're here?"
"Yes, a stupid fox jumped me and tied me up. Then some genius rat dragged me to the tent, where I suddenly found myself in front of you."
Scarstripe glared at her. "I don't like your attitude. That is something you'll have to change."
Amethyst smiled mockingly. "As you wish, master."
"It would be in your best interests to remain silent for the time being, if you don't want to see Blackstrike here, dead, any time soon."
Amethyst stared at him. "I don't believe you could do that."
Scarstripe chuckled. "Oh, well, believe it or not, but one of my assassins is watching them as we speak. She is with a ferret and a hare, and they are all looking for you. With nothing more than a word sent by my messenger, all of them could be dead by the end of the day." He grinned coldly, enjoying the sudden power he had over her. "Now I want you to do something for me."
Amethyst was beaten; she knew it. There was nothing else she could do but give in to whatever he wanted. "What could I possibly do that you want me to?"
"Tell me all about Loamhedge. I want to know every little detail stored in your worthless mind."
Trent sat back in the chair Scarstripe had thoughtfully provided in his tent. Standing by the tent flaps, looking out across the camp, was Blythe. Both foxes were deep in thought, a state that was betrayed by the ominous silence that had fallen between them. Trent sat up and rubbed his eyes wearily, catching Blythe's attention as he did.
"When do we attack?"
Blythe idly toyed with the hilt of his dagger. "The time will come when the slaves choose to revolt. We will be able to strike unnoticed. Do you think your decision is a wise one?"
"Of course, my dear Second. We have clearly overstayed our welcome, and that pitiful weasel is just now deciding I'm too smart. You and I both know all too well how insecure these horde leaders can be."
"Aye, I remember. Starbane was terrible about getting rid of supposed threats to his command." Blythe grinned and chuckled. "So it is decided then?"
"Tonight, when they are moving the last loads. Inform the others and instruct them all accordingly. We will leave shortly thereafter." Trent leaned back in his chair. "Besides, I think it is time Foxtribe moved on to new hunting grounds."
Blythe nodded and stepped out of the tent, leaving Trent alone to brood on his plan. The clever, sometimes seemingly insane leader of Foxtribe had an uncanny way of dealing with potential enemies. One of Trent's favourite games was outsmarting other beasts, especially when it turned to covert espionage. His plan now was to deal one powerful blow that would leave the Bloodslayers crippled, and then fade away into the night. To continue the war afterward, through guerrilla style warfare was going to depend on Trent's mood, and the outcome of the initial attack.
"No one can outfox a fox." Blythe grinned slightly as he muttered Trent's personal saying on covert warfare.
He cut through the camp; heading towards the small out of the way corner that had been designated Foxtribe Territory. Scarstripe had intentionally set Trent's tent away from the camp; it did nothing but make the tribe laugh at the weasel's paranoia. Blythe waved and caught the attention of an old, one-eyed fox and longstanding member of the tribe.
"Khale, I need to discuss something with you." Blythe bowed slightly as the old fox stood and made his way over. "We are running Torch tonight. Ready the tribe and make sure all of them are ready."
Khale's face remained emotionless and cold. "T'night? Bit soon."
"Trent thinks it's time we moved on."
A thin grin spread on Khale's timeworn face. "I couldn't agree more. We'll be ready by nightfall."
Blythe grinned. "Good. Let's leave the Bloodslayers something to remember us by."
Chapter VII
Ghost leaned back against a tree as he contemplated what Myriad had told him. The other ferret was pacing and glancing occasionally at the four graves. She stopped when Ghost spoke up.
"So, he does have Amethyst, and he is planning to attack Loamhedge."
Myriad nodded. "Aye, and he's gonna burn it down."
He glanced up at her. "Tell me more about those firebombs. How do they work?"
"Well, th' canisters are opened, an' th' top layer's lit on fire. A catapult is used t' throw th' canister into th' fortress, where it'll explode, sendin' fire everywhere. I've seen 'em used b'fore. They're very deadly."
"Is there anything or any way to defend against them?"
Myriad shook her head. "No. Unless ye can keep 'em on th' ground."
Ghost looked up at her and watched as she knelt by Corbin's grave and examined the longsword.
"Why are you helping me?"
She looked over her shoulder at him and stood. "To be honest, I can't say." She waked over to where he was leaning against the tree and stood in front of him. "When I heard what'd happened t' ye, I guess I just viewed ye as a fallen legend."
"So you're helping me because you feel sorry for me?" Ghost shook his head. "Don't feel sorry for me, I'm just a ghost."
Ghost pushed past her and started to leave. Myriad quickly grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him.
"I'm helpin' ye 'cause I think that yer in th' right. Th' Bloodslayers fight 'cause they want blood. Ye fight 'cause ye want justice. Am I right?"
Ghost nodded and she released him. "I fight for justice, and this time I also fight for revenge. If you are going to help me," He looked back and locked eyes with her. For a fleeting moment, he relived something, which quickly forced him to look away. "If you are going to help me, be careful."
Myriad smiled softly behind him. "Don't worry 'bout me. I can watch m'own back."
"Good. Now, if you'd be so kind, I'd like to see the where Trent's hiding."
"Just follow me." She smiled and motioned him to follow her to the camp.