Lord Marak knew that by the time he reached the penetration point, Lord Zawbry’s camp would be entirely surrounded by Fardale soldiers, but not close enough to disturb the sentries. Lord Zawbry would have to fight his way to the mansion in Woodville if he decided to go home in the middle of the night. Lord Marak knew that was not going to happen.
It was a long, quiet ride as the six horses made their way through the Litari countryside and entered the Ragatha estate somewhere between Lord Zawbry's camp and the settlement of Woodville. When they reached the line of Fardale soldiers blocking Lord Zawbry’s retreat path, they dismounted and gave care of their horses to the two soldiers who would not be going any further.
Lord Marak surveyed his small team and met each of their gazes before turning and leading the way through the Fardale men and into the woods. Halman moved up to walk directly behind Lord Marak while Gunta held the rear, directly behind the blacksuited Iscala.
Marshal Yenga placed his men far enough away from Lord Zawbry’s sentries that no one would know they were there. As they approached the camp’s perimeter, Lord Marak held up his hand and Iscala and her shadow stopped walking. Halman and Lord Marak continued forward and dropped into a crouch to observe the edge of the camp. As was hoped, the sentries on this side of the camp were careless. One of them was leaning against a tree whittling a piece of wood while the other was smoking a pipe and spending more time gazing toward the camp than the woods he was supposed to be watching.
Lord Marak knew that once Khadora got used to the idea of night attacks, sentries would no longer be this lax. The men probably thought the worst thing they would see would be an animal. They were wrong, dead wrong.
Lord Marak took a few moments to survey the camp. Lord Zawbry’s huge and gaudy tent was easy to spot. Coming from the rear had given Lord Marak an additional advantage. Lord Zawbry had decided to pitch his tent as far away from the front as possible, instead of in the center of the camp.
Lord Marak signaled Halman to take the whittler while he moved toward the pipe smoker. Halman and Gunta were men from Marak’s unit when he was a Squad Leader and he had worked with them before. It was the reason he had chosen them. That prior training was needed for this penetration. No spoken commands could be issued and the blacksuited invaders had to rely on silent hand signals.
Lord Marak got into position and waited until he could confirm that Halman was ready. Marak knew his time was limited. The Air Mage stationed with the troops he had just passed through would have already sent the word of his arrival. Within moments, the entire ring of Fardale soldiers would start moving inward to capture Lord Zawbry’s men.
Halman got into position and turned toward Lord Marak. Lord Marak nodded and the two men rose and hurled knives at their targets. Quickly sprinting across the distance separating them from their targets, the two blacksuited warriors grabbed at the falling bodies. Marak’s target dropped his lit pipe and the Fardale Lord had to extinguish the glowing bocco before someone noticed it. Halman and Lord Marak each propped their victims against trees in a seated position. The blood pouring down their chests would make it obvious that all was not well if anyone should happen by, but from a distance they would appear to be just slacking off their guard duty.
Lord Marak signaled and Gunta brought Iscala forward. There were only three small tents between them and Lord Zawbry’s tent. Lord Marak viewed the scene with his eyes attuned for any movement. Satisfied that they had a clear path to the large tent, Lord Marak led the small group forward. He halted at the rear of Lord Zawbry’s tent and listened alertly. He could just hear the muffled conversation of two men and it took a moment of listening to realize that they were door guards at the front of the Ragatha Lord’s tent.
Lord Marak pulled a knife and quietly slit the rear of the tent so that he could peek in. Lord Zawbry’s sleeping form was the only person visible and Lord Marak cut a larger slit in the fabric. Keeping his ears tuned to the conversation of the two guards, Lord Marak slipped into the tent and was quickly followed by the other three members of his team. He signaled for Halman and Gunta to take up positions on either side of the door flap, while he crouched next to Lord Zawbry’s sleeping body. Iscala positioned herself in the center of the tent and wove an Air Tube toward the Meeting Chamber in Fardale.
Once the connection to Fardale was established, Lord Marak placed his knife to Lord Zawbry’s throat. The Ragatha Lord’s eyes snapped open and he stared up at Lord Marak. Despite the knife at his throat, Lord Zawbry uttered a cry and the door flap was thrown open to admit the two guards. Halman and Gunta were ready for them as they ran in. Each of them quickly stepped behind their victim and grabbed his head while slicing his throat.
“Another outcry and more of your men will die,” scolded Lord Marak. “The first casualty will be you, though.”
Fear and hatred lanced into Lord Marak from Lord Zawbry’s eyes, but the Ragatha Lord kept his voice low. “What do you want?” Lord Zawbry demanded.
Lord Marak reached into his pouch and withdrew a black headband and thrust it into Lord Zawbry’s hands. “Put this over your eyes so we don’t have to watch you,” ordered Lord Marak.
Lord Zawbry’s hate-filled eyes fixed on Lord Marak’s briefly before he took the headband and placed it over his head so that his eyes were covered. “You will never get out of this camp alive,” threatened Lord Zawbry.
“I seem to remember hearing those words before,” chuckled Lord Marak, “but it is touching to see that you are concerned for my safety. You have a decision to make, Lord Zawbry. Do you want to live, . . . or do you want to die?”
“So, that is your game, Marak,” spat Lord Zawbry. “Do you think I will call off the attack so you will let me live? I have a different deal to offer you. Leave immediately and I will spare your life when Fardale is crushed.”
“You are a slow learner, Lord Zawbry,” Lord Marak said coldly. “You have no Army to attack Fardale with. Surrender to me now and you will be spared along with your men. Refuse and I will deal with your successor.”
“Even if I surrender to you,” Lord Zawbry stated defiantly, “you will not hold me for long. What do you hope to gain?” Lord Zawbry knew that the morning would bring Lord Sevrin’s men streaming into Fardale and to die tonight would be a waste of his life.
“We are running out of time,” scowled Lord Marak. “Issue your Vows of Service to me or I shall leave you here dead. It is your choice, but the decision must be made now.”
Lord Zawbry had barely finished giving his Vows of Service to Lord Marak when shouts erupted outside the tent. The entire camp was coming alive with shouts and frenzied replies. Lord Marak nodded to his team members and they all pulled their headbands over their eyes. Lord Marak did the same and the last thing he saw before the darkness was Lord Zawbry’s pitiful smile. The Ragatha Lord obviously thought he was about to be rescued.
Suddenly, the night sky burst into blinding brightness. Even through the opaque headband and the tent walls, Lord Marak winced at the brightness that enveloped the camp. Throughout the encampment men screamed and fell down as they were blinded by the blazing light. The flash was over in an instant, but Lord Marak’s eyes still held the afterglow left by the incredibly brilliant light as he peeled off his headband.
“What in the name of the Lords Council was that?” hollered Lord Zawbry.
“That was the end of your campaign to destroy Fardale,” explained Lord Marak as his sight began returning to normal.