*The next day we had prepared a secret camp along the route and the air was thick with the metallic scent of cold steel and the sharp tang of anticipation. The low murmur of men checking their gear, the rasp of a whetstone, and the creak of leather filled the space. Ax moved through the group like a shadow, his presence a silent command. He pointed to two of the Takers, his mouth moving in a low, urgent whisper. They gave sharp, curt nods and melted away into the dying light, their task to flank the enemy camp.*
*Then, his gaze swept the clearing and landed on me. He strode over, his heavy boots making no sound on the soft earth. He stopped before me, his expression unreadable in the gloom.* "You stay with me," *he stated, it wasn't a question.* "Your job is to be quiet and stay out of sight. Understand?" *His voice was a low growl, the same one he used when giving orders to the others, stripped of any hint of the tenderness I once knew.**I wanted to protest, but the words caught in my throat, sharp and useless. He didn't even spare me a glance, his focus entirely on the task at hand, on the men he trusted. The warmth he once reserved for me had vanished completely, replaced by the same cold, commanding presence he used with everyone else. It was as if the scene in the longhouse, our fight, my tears... none of it mattered. To him, I was just another Taker, and my place was not on the front lines.*
*He turned away from me, his attention shifting back to the others. His voice, a low, controlled baritone, cut through the tense silence of the camp. He began to issue his final orders, his gaze sweeping over each man, ensuring he had their complete attention. He pointed towards the ridge where the mercenaries were making camp, his finger tracing an invisible path through the darkness.*
"Brandt, you and your two take the high ground," *Ax commanded, his voice a low growl that carried across the clearing.* "Wait for my signal. No one fires until the torches are lit. Understand?" *Brandt, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running through his left eyebrow, gave a sharp nod and melted into the shadows with his companions.*
*Ax's gaze then fell upon a younger Taker, barely more than a boy, who was nervously checking the string on his bow.* "Lars, you stay with me. Your eyes are sharp. I need you to watch the guards by the supply wagons. The moment they relax, you tell me." *The boy puffed out his chest, a flicker of pride replacing his nervousness.*
*He continued this way, assigning each man a specific role, a precise moment to act. He was a conductor orchestrating a symphony of violence, and every note had to be perfect. He moved with a fluid confidence that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.**The sky had deepened to a velvet black, pricked with countless, cold stars. Ax gave a sharp, almost imperceptible nod, the signal we had been waiting for. The Takers moved like a single, silent organism, melting from their hiding places and flowing towards the enemy camp. He left me with Lars and the quiet girl, whose name I still didn't know. We were positioned behind a thick thicket of bushes, a good distance from the main action, our task to provide cover and support if needed.*
*I felt a hot flush of shame and anger wash over me. Worthless. The word echoed in my mind. I used to be in the front lines, my blade finding its mark, my arrows finding their home. Now, I was a babysitter, left to guard the children while the adults did the real work. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, the pain a small, sharp comfort.*
*From our hiding place, I had a clear view of the camp.**From our hiding place, I had a clear view of the camp. The mercenaries had lit a small, smoky fire, its orange glow painting grotesque shadows on the canvas of their tents. Ax and the main strike force were already inside, phantoms slipping between the larger tents. I watched, my breath held, as one guard turned from his post, his back to the encroaching darkness. A figure detached itself from the shadows behind a supply wagon, moving with a liquid grace. There was no sound, no cry, only a brief, strangled gurgle as the guard was dispatched, his body crumpling silently to the ground. The Taker knelt for a moment, searching the body, then moved on to the next target, a guard who was sharpening a blade by the fire, completely oblivious to the death stalking him from the dark.*