23. Jessa

23

JESSA

“ T hat’s it.” The scout stops suddenly, pointing through the thick trees blocking out the moonlight.

Squinting, I follow his finger and barely make out the glimmering firelight in the distance. “So what do I…” I turn to see the scout already walking away, not listening to me. “Do now?”

I huff, pushing a stray hair out of my face as I assess the situation. I have two knives on me that I pestered out of the silent scout. I think if he didn’t hand them over, he might have considered slitting my throat with one of them.

“Are you going to help me?” I ask to the air and the wind breezes through my hair. Vines lift to brush my face, and I blow out a breath. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I slip through the dark trees toward the flickering firelight, letting the stealth skills learned in my youth rise to the surface. Always avoid being seen and heard. Move silently, blend with shadows. Wait and watch.

Pausing at the edge of the clearing, I peer between the bushes at the sprawling encampment before me. Dark elf sentries with spears and swords pace the perimeter, while shadowed forms move about scores of tents and wagons.

I study their patterns, watching for any gap in attention. There – a sentry passes and I melt from the brush, quiet as the wind. I skirt along the backside of a large tent, senses hyperaware.

Rough, guttural voices drift from within, speaking but too muffled for me to understand. Coarse laughter follows and I quicken my pace.

Sliding behind a supply wagon, I spot a slit in the back of the next tent – my way inside. I wait for a breath, muscles coiled, then dart through.

Inside I find stacks of wooden crates and barrels. Voices approach from the front and I wedge myself behind the cargo, barely breathing.

Two elves enter, griping in their harsh tongue. One gestures angrily as the other snaps back. I pick out the words "patrol...waste...rather drink and fuck whores..."

They take no notice of me as I slip out the back once more. I'm so close to the intelligence I need. I won't fail now.

Keeping to the shadows, I creep on silent feet towards the center of the sprawling camp. Snatches of guttural conversation reach me as I pass, none proving useful – until a rumbling voice makes me freeze in my tracks.

"...those vrakken fools won't know what hit them."

Pulse racing, I slide up to the thick canvas wall of a large command tent, peering through a slit between the flaps. Inside, a hulking dark elf officer stands over a table strewn with maps, barking orders at subordinates.

"We strike swift and hard, moving under cover of night just before dawn."

I listen intently over the hammering of my heart as he points out locations on the map with a gnarled finger, detailing numbers and strategies for a surprise attack.

“When should I ready the men?” another dark elf asks.

“We’ll strike in four days’ time, just after sunrise. These bastards hate the bright light.”

As the officer rolls up the maps, I slink back into the shadows, mind racing wildly. There’s an attack coming. Which means I have to get back and now.

But as I start my way back through the camp, I keep having to duck into the shadows. More dark elves are moving about now, forcing me to sit still as they all walk past, and fear starts to pour into my veins as I try to figure out how I’m going to get out of here. Can I sneak out the way I entered? Or will I be unable to find a hole in their patrol again?

Either way, I cannot allow the vrakken to be caught blindsided by slaughter. Too many lives now depend on the precious information I possess. And the idea of something happening to Nikolai makes my chest squeeze so tight that I feel like I can’t breathe.

I might be mad at him, but I can’t let him be blindsided.

Crouching behind a wagon to avoid a patrol, I weigh my limited options. I can’t be caught, and the longer I stay here, the more likely it is I will be.

Willing my heart to slow, I slide from tent to tent on silent feet, ducking patrols, as I make my way back to the outskirts of the sprawling camp. Freedom is so close I can taste it, but my pulse thunders as a dark elf officer's suspicious gaze lingers on my hiding spot.

Before he can approach and investigate, I melt into the shadows and flee toward the tree line. Under faint moonlight I race headlong toward the wildspont, the living forest coming alive around me to speed my frantic steps.

Glancing over my shoulder, I search for any sign of pursuit. No distinct shapes follow, but I can't shake the prickling feeling of unseen eyes tracking my movement through the brush. Were those heavy footsteps behind me just my imagination? Or have they somehow detected my presence?

Shoving down panic, I push myself harder despite my burning lungs and aching legs. I have to make it back to the vrakken base with the attack plans in time to warn Nikolai. Before it's too late to stop the coming slaughter.

The vines and bushes seem to part before me as if sensing my desperation. I'm nearly there, so close. Just a little farther through these shadowed woods and I can deliver the intelligence needed to save countless innocent lives.

Suddenly, iron-hard hands seize me viciously from behind and a scream lodges in my throat. I twist sharply, a knife sliding free, as my attacker snarls gutturally, "Thought you could spy on us, vrakken scum?"

Terror spikes through me like icy lightning, but I meet the elf's hate-filled gaze defiantly through the darkness.

Whip-fast, I slam my elbow back with all my strength into the dark elf's hard gut before he can act. As he doubles over with a choked grunt, I spin sharply, bringing my blade up in a silver arc.

He tries to dodge, but the knife slices across his chest in a spray of dark blood. He staggers back with a gurgling cry, clutching at the deep, mortal wound.

I press my advantage, kicking his legs out from under him. He crashes to the forest floor with a thud. Before he can rise, I bring my boot down, pinning him as I wrench the blade across his throat in a finishing blow.

Dark blood pours rapidly, his eyes going wide in shock and rage. But it's already too late for him.

Not waiting to watch the light leave his eyes, I whirl and sprint into the shadowed woods. My lungs are burning fire, but I can't slow. I have to get back and deliver the intelligence before they find his body.

I risk a quick glance over my shoulder, seeing no pursuers yet through the dense trees. Still, I don't dare slow my reckless, stumbling pace for anything. I can't stop until I’m back in the wildspont both because they’ll torture me if they find me and I need to help the vrakken.

The trees part before me and close behind me, keeping me protected as I run, but even as I do, I think I hear shouts in the distance. I push myself faster, barely able to draw in a breath as I tear through the forest.

Akeldama, please don’t let me die tonight.