Darkness was his friend. It hid him. It protected him. It was part of him.
Shadow blended with the night. The moon above provided difficulties to his abilities. But he was fine. He was night himself.
The first obstacle were the sentries positioned like eagles behind the wall of wooden spikes pointed forward. The sentries were all armored with mails instead of the usual gambesons. Small plates protected their groin, chest and stomach. Their helms extended to cover most of the cheeks and foreheads. Many carried spear taller than a person. Some had crossbows already loaded with bolts.
Lamps were hung for illumination for the whole length of the wall of spikes. It would be difficult getting over the spikes without being seen. Shadow searched the whole wall and saw a portion with a considerable length of darkness. It was about ten armspans long- a considerable length to employ his gift. After walking closer, Shadow discovered the reason for the lack of lamps from the sweet and familiar smell in the air. Hellfire, smuggled probably.
Shadow reached to one of the spikes. It was damp with some slimy liquid. The ground below was oozing too. He grimaced upon realizing the terrible trap. One lamp was all it would take to burn this portion. Dozens of Castonians would burn crisp inside their armors at the very least.
But for now the lack of illumination worked against the Hadeans. He stepped over the spikes, carefully evading the sharpened points. The guards didn't even notice him. To them the spikes only shifted a little, a rattle by the wind. But if they did notice him, then his cane would have come in handy.
From a few steps to the front the trench greeted him with another obstacle. It spread like a maze, extending for half a league. He stepped into it, falling on two feet. The ground was soft against his elkskin boots. Too soft, he noticed. The walls of dirt were two armspans apart and probably narrower and wider in some parts. He stepped three times until he felt the mushy ground. It was wet beyond belief. The sticky feeling reverberated through his leg. The smell wasn't nice. He was sure that feces and urine were mixed with the mud along with other nasty things.
He trudged and dragged mud with his new boots. Balance evaded him. Holding on the earth walls to the side didn't help. He slipped eventually and hit the ground. His black coat turned brown. Mud splattered on his face while the stink filled his nose. He wasn't worried about his muddy look or the mixed smell of urine, feces and mud. He was worried about the sound. The squelch was loud when he fell.
And soon the sound of multiple boots marching against the mud thundered. Shadow looked to the front. The guards would soon come to check on the noise. He rose, pushing his hand on the mud and leaning against the earth wall. He blended with the shade as they arrived.
The Hadeans were prepared. They bared their spears forward, slowly stepping with crouches. There were five of them and they all had the same drunk look in a Hadean- drowsy eyes, thin lips covered by meeting mustache and beard and stout necks.
Shadow held his breath as they passed. One of the elbows almost brushed against his coat. He considered striking them with his cane but banished the thought. That would be stupid. He cannot survive against five armored and trained men.
"Nothing's here" said the one closest to Shadow.
"But you heard it right? Sounded like a pig waddling in a pen" said the one in the middle.
"Maybe it was a pig. Quartermaster's swine. You know he's a bit senile already."
"Bah, let's just go back. You are too scared of Castonians."
The sentries soon left. Shadow breathed deeply. That was close. His gift wasn't that powerful when it comes to fighting. He cannot make flames like Helios or turn into a bear like Bear.
He again stepped on the mud. He slowed his steps until a solid ground was reached. The stench of urine and feces was tamer now. The ground was dry despite being soft. The trenches were a mess. He felt dizzy just by looking at the multiple crossroads and the hidden tunnels. The journey to the end was long and he encountered traps, blatant ones. His left boot once ate a caltrop. Good thing the spike penetrated in between of his toes. He almost fell into spiked holes twice. The first was because of stupidity. The second just bad luck. He also saw several passages wet with Hellfire. Once set afire, the flame would prevent the passage of Castonians while Hadean bolts rained from above. Nasty things these Hadeans are.
At last Shadow reached the end of the trenches. A single wall of earth separated him from the rest of the Hadean camp. But not yet, he thought.
He went to the side and waited for a Hadean to pass by. Three groups of Hadean sentries marched pass him before he spotted a single Hadean.
The sentry was an aged man with similar mustache and beard. His beard was tied into a braid though. His eyes were sharp, looking at the front. But not vigilant. Shadow could see the Hadean's inexperience.
He stiffed his arm and swung his cane at the Hadean's face. The Hadean grunted upon impact and staggered. Shadow pulled his dagger and thrust into the Hadean's neck.
He missed and was repaid by a jab to the stomach, a lucky hit. Pain rang across his body, melting his knees. His vision blurred for just a moment and the Hadean's gauntlet was already flying towards his face.
Shadow was flung back. He rolled in the mud. The Hadean pointed the spear towards him and thrust. Shadow was quick to evade. Or maybe it wasn't his movements that saved him but rather his figure. The spear was stuck in the mud just beside him.
"What are you?!" The Hadean demanded.
Shadow didn't answer and rose quickly. His figure was like smoke. He was one with the night. He jabbed his dagger at the Hadean. This time he didn't miss. The blade bit deep into the man's stomach.
Shadow retracted the bloody dagger and stabbed again, this time at the Hadean's throat. The Hadean tried to scream for help but Shadow cupped the man's mouth. The screams were muffled. The dying sound was mute. The sentry soon stopped moving.
Shadow was panting. He wiped the blood from his mouth. His lips were probably broken. But he had won. He lived, for now that is.
Soon the sentry's armor and clothes were his. It didn't look good on him and he didn't like it. The smell of sweat was strong. It was sticky and heavier than he was comfortable with. He buried his clothes along with the body of the sentry in a shallow hole.
He stepped out of the trenches and walked towards the camp. It was smaller than from afar. Soggy tents were erected around a fenced portion where there were two huge tents. One colored dark blue while the other was yellow. The bridge was behind the big yellow tent not even a hundred paces. Beyond the bridge were some more fortifications.
So they were not giving up the bridge at all cost? Shadow asked himself though he knew the answer already. If the trenches fall then the Hadeans could retreat to the other side of the river and defend the bridge with grit. They were committed to this.
Shadow circled the camp. The river was his first destination. It was wide and deep but the banks were shallow. And then his eyes caught small two-person boats below the river.
It was perfect. He thought that he would have some trouble in transporting the Princess. The King of Hadea must have prepared the boats as a way to escape once the trenches fall. Unfortunately for the King it would make Shadow's life easier.
He stepped towards to the yellow tent with a smile. He was a smoke to them, a hidden foe. As long as there was shade, he was an apparition.
He went to the back of the tent where the lamps were few. He evaded the two guards stationed at the back. They were oblivious to his movements. He knelt and lifted the cloth. Soon he was inside.
The smell of perfume immediately invaded his senses. It was sweet like cherry and had a tinge of roses. The inside was stuffed with expensive things. Jewelries were scattered on the table. A bottle of aromatic Hadean wine was left open.
Shadow rose. The figure of a sleeping woman presented to his front. She was sleeping soundly.
He snuffed the single lantern that illuminated the tent. The world became black. He cupped the dust from his pocket as he approached the woman. The dust was the last of Dream's gift. It could make a person talk with someone in a dream. And it could also keep someone in a sleep for at least a few hours.
Shadow knelt beside the bed. He blew the dust onto the Princess from his palm. The shining dust danced in the air, curling and curving, until it invaded the Princess's nose.