Kael's breath came in ragged gasps, his body aching from the brutal fight. He was surrounded, soldiers closing in, their blades glinting in the fading light. The sounds of battle had quieted, most of his comrades laid dead or dying in the mud. Kael knew there was no escape, not here, not with the numbers stacked against him.
But he wasn't going to fall easily.
With a grunt, Kael swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing the soldiers back. Their hesitation was brief, but it was enough. He had no illusions of victory, but the only thing that mattered now was staying alive.
He lunged toward the nearest soldier, catching him by surprise. His blade slid through the man's armor, and Kael felt the familiar resistance as the sword struck bone. He yanked the weapon free just as two more soldiers rushed him. He ducked under the first man's swing, pivoting and driving his shoulder into the second attacker, knocking him off balance.
But there were too many. Kael felt a sharp pain as a blade slashed across his arm, followed by a blow to his ribs that knocked the air from his lungs. He stumbled back, barely managing to parry the next strike, his grip on his sword slipping as blood trickled down his hand.
I need to move. Now.
Kael's mind raced. His body screamed for him to keep fighting, but his instincts told him otherwise. With a sudden burst of strength, he shoved the nearest soldier aside and broke into a sprint, darting past the enemy line and into the thick forest.
Shouts rang out behind him as the soldiers gave chase, but Kael didn't stop. He pushed through the pain, weaving between trees, his heart pounding in his chest. The forest loomed ahead, dark and forbidding, but it was his only chance.
Branches whipped against his face as he tore through the undergrowth, his breath ragged, his wounds burning. He didn't look back. He couldn't afford to. He just kept running, his mind focused on one thing, survival.
Hours passed, though it felt like an eternity. The shouts of his pursuers had faded long ago, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the distant cries of night creatures. Kael finally slowed, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. His body was battered, his side ached from the shallow cut, and his arm was slick with blood.
He staggered through the underbrush, searching for cover. The moon had risen, casting faint light through the trees, enough for Kael to spot a rocky outcrop ahead. He made his way toward it, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his vision blurring with exhaustion.
A small cave sat nestled at the base of the hill, barely large enough to provide shelter. Kael collapsed inside, pressing his back against the cool stone, his chest heaving. He tore a strip of cloth from his tunic and tied it tightly around his arm, gritting his teeth against the pain.
His heart still raced, the adrenaline slowly draining from his system. He had made it out, but only just. The ambush had been too well-planned, too precise. Whoever had sent those soldiers had known exactly where Kerric's band would be. And they had wanted them dead.
The silence of the forest pressed in on him as he tried to steady his breathing. His thoughts drifted to Kerric, to the old mercenary's voice that still echoed in his mind after all these years. "Survival is the only truth, Kael."
Kerric's words had shaped him, had taught him that there was no room for hesitation in a world as brutal as this. Kael had lived by that creed, fighting without question, doing what needed to be done to stay alive. But as he sat there, bloodied and alone, he couldn't help but wonder if even Kerric would have seen this ambush coming.
Kael leaned back against the stone, the exhaustion pulling at him. He had no time for doubts, no time to question the way things were. He had survived the ambush, and now he had to find a way back. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something bigger at play here. Someone had wanted them dead. And he would find out who.
Hours passed, and the night deepened. Kael remained in the cave, gathering his strength, his body slowly recovering from the fight. His wounds were shallow, but they burned. He needed time, but time wasn't something he had.
A rustling outside the cave snapped him from his thoughts. His hand went instinctively to his sword, though his body protested the movement. He listened, footsteps, faint but close. Someone was approaching.
Kael pressed himself against the cave wall, his muscles tensed. The footsteps stopped at the entrance, and a shadow loomed just outside. He gripped his sword tightly, ready to strike.
"Kael."
The voice was low, cautious. A moment later, a figure stepped into the moonlight. It was Veyron, one of the surviving mercenaries. He was battered, bloodied, but alive.
"You're alive," Kael said, his voice hoarse.
"Barely," Veyron replied, slumping against the wall of the cave. "The others... most of them are gone."
Kael's jaw clenched. He had expected as much, but hearing it confirmed still felt like a blow. Veyron wiped blood from his face, his breath ragged. "I overheard some of the soldiers talking before I got away. This wasn't just some raid. We were set up."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "By who?"
"I don't know," Veyron said, his face grim. "But whoever it was, they wanted us dead. All of us."
Kael stared into the darkness beyond the cave, his mind racing. Someone had gone to great lengths to ensure Kerric's band was wiped out. But why?