Tor crouched low, keeping his body in the shadows as he made his way carefully through the tent’s ropes before turning to offer his hand to Keely and then Daena. The Nephilim woman moved agonizingly slowly on the muddy ground, gripping his hand as she avoided the guy ropes and the wooden pegs they attached to, protecting her ankle.
Long, tense moments passed until they were through the gap and almost to the water. A glance at the shore showed it was heavily pebbled, guaranteed to crunch underfoot, and they stuck to the frozen mud at its rim, following Daena as she limped ahead.
She led them past the backs of two more tents, passing quickly through the narrow, lamplit channels between them and back into the dark shadows each time. Thank the gods the tents were set close to each other.
Daena raised her hand and they stopped behind her, huddling in the gloom as soldiers shouted commands and called orders nearby. Ahead, Tor could just make out a blocked-off area surrounded by a shoulder-high palisade and covered by a high canvas ceiling.
“There’s a back gate that opens toward the lake, but it’s always barred,” Daena whispered. “The guards rotate, one at the front where the main entrance is, one at the back. I don’t know how often they change.”
Tor glanced at Keely, who gave him a small nod. They had no choice—they had to try.
The two women hunched down deeper into the shadows and he stepped silently over to the shore and picked up a flat pebble, weighing it in his hand. He pulled his arm back and then snapped it forward parallel to the water, flicking his wrist and letting the pebble fly so that it skimmed across the lake, bouncing four times before it finally sank.
“What was that?” called a rough voice. “Anyone there?”
They stayed silent.
“Problem?” called a voice faintly from the distant front of the fenced-off area.
The guard stepped out from the back gate and stared at the water. After a long moment, he shouted back, “No, something in the lake.”
Tor waited, hoping that these men were as poorly trained as Usna had suggested, and no one would arrive to do a sweep of the lakeshore.
The guard took another long look at the dark lake. Then he turned to look away, down the narrow beach. It was Tor’s chance. He jogged silently along the muddy path up to the guard and hit him with a brutal downward strike on the back of his head, connecting with the sensitive area behind the guard’s ear.
Tor caught the guard as he crumpled into an unconscious heap and dragged him up into the shadows, laying him down on his side. He felt briefly on the side of the guard’s neck and found a pulse. Damn, he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing, or a bad thing—the last time he’d knocked a man out and left him alive, it had been Dornar.
Gods, he was sick of fighting.
A second later, Keely joined him, and without even blinking, simply helped with using the soldier’s belt and laces to tie him up, and then ripped up his threadbare shirt and stuffed it into his mouth as a gag.
Tor took the man’s sword and only knife, and Keely took the crossbow and bolts. The sword was lighter than Tor was used to, nothing like his own sword—the Bar-Ulf sword—but there was nothing he could do about that. The Wraiths had his grandfather’s sword, and there was no way he would risk Keely by trying to get it back.
As soon as they were done, they turned and rushed up to where Daena had lifted out the wooden bar and started to push open the gate. They slipped inside and stopped as their eyes adjusted to the darker area under the canvas.
Thank the gods. Dugout canoes lay in a row, carefully shaped from pine trunks, all with their own paddles. Daena ran her eyes along the row of ten canoes and then growled softly. “That asshole. He only made plans for the Wraiths to escape. I mean, I knew he was a bastard, but this….” Her voice trailed off.
Tor grunted. That was Andred all over. Tactically, it made much more sense to leave the bulk of your army fighting on the shore while you made your escape. But you had to be fucking ruthless to do it.
“Can we scuttle them somehow?” Keely murmured.
He wished they could. “I don’t think so. We don’t have enough time and we can’t do anything noisy. If we set fire to them, the smoke will alert the guards. Our best option is to get away and warn Lucilla.”
Keely nodded grimly. “Okay, let’s do it.”
They worked together to lift a canoe and carry it out while Daena quickly barred the gates behind them.
A soldier whistled loudly somewhere within the camp, and they all froze. Gods. If they were caught now, it was over.
Another whistle sounded and voices called. The wind gusted in icy drafts, ruffling his hair and carrying the fresh scent of cold water, so near to them, and still so distant.
Slowly the voices faded. No one appeared through the gloom, demanding to know what they were doing. Tor looked at Keely and tried to smile. They had to move.
They had no choice but to cross the narrow shore. The crunching of the pebbles underfoot seemed to echo loudly, reverberating around them with every step, but within a few minutes, they had the canoe on the beach.
Keely helped Daena into the canoe and then quickly followed her, holding the oars safely. Tor gripped the wood and heaved. It stuck for a long moment, but then slid roughly into the water, and he leaped into the narrow dugout. It wobbled for a moment, heavy in the water, but he quickly sat, and the canoe stabilized.
There was just enough space for the three of them, thank the gods. The two women shuffled around, making room for him to take the oars, and then with a long pull, they were away.
