“White,” Scar answered.
“Saint online,” Gage said. “Roz, vision check.”
“All cams clear, Saint,” Roz said, sounding as if he were right beside him.
Gage squatted on the ground at the forest perimeter. He kept his breathing measured as he let the subtle vibrations of the earth speak to him.
Smoke carried on the wind, the ugly kind that came from burning wood and scorched metals.
The village was about a hundred yards ahead of him, close enough he could still hear scattered pockets of shouting, a thin wail of someone trying not to scream, and the occasional crack of gunfire that sounded like whips snapping.
“Ravens in positions,” Spectre said. “Headquarters, we are go for green. How call?”
“Go for green,” Jo answered immediately.
“Ravens, you’re green. Call set,” Corvo directed.
“White set,” Scar said. “South approach.”
“Brown set,” Mirage said. “East roofline.”
“Green set,” Valor said. “North side. Point-eight clicks on terrain.”
“Black set,” Meridian said. “Front and center.”
Gage held his cane folded in his right hand, with his left extended in front of him.
Roz came in on their private comms. “Saint, you’ve got three armed contacts thirty meters off your twelve. Two posted side entrance of the church.”
Corvo’s voice darkened on one word. “Execute.”
A whisper cut the air above him, clean and fast…then another…and another.
Zorion’s arrows whipped over his head in rapid sequence, the shafts striking the ground and exploding on impact. Not with fire, with dense smoke that swallowed light and rolled across the ground.
Blacks went first because the Blacks always went first.
Somewhere, a man barked panicked orders in another language. By the time the militia realized what was happening, who’d come for them, they’d all be dead.
“They’re scattering. Move.”
Gage squeezed, and his cane snapped out to its full length.
He slid the sharpest end along the ground, pushing debris from his path and stepping easily over bulging roots and fallen branches.
Roz’s voice was tight and positive as he set him up to infiltrate.
“You got three hostiles left in the corridor. Two, right corner. Four moving fast in the side pocket.”
Gage tilted his head. He wasn’t just listening for steps. He was measuring and counting them. Determining weight by the depth of each footfall, height by the way their breath cut through the air.
He dipped low and inched closer as Roz counted him down.
“Fifty feet…thirty…hostile at the door shifted left, weapon raised.”
Gage didn’t slow as he reached into the rear compartment of his vest and removed four small mag-lock disks.
Gunfire erupted from weapons far more advanced and deadly than those the militia had.
