The forest was completely lifeless as Damien's team returned from the Silent Daggers' thrash camp. Their ambush was successful, yet the weight of what lay ahead hung heavily on them. An opportunistic tool used in the rebellion-as a web being deadlier interwoven was Elyas, their true threat.
The hospital's fires were now extinguished, and the rest of the defenders were either incorporated into Damien's forces or sent to the dungeons. The stronghold is now dominantly controlled by Damien and is thus serving as a temporary command post.
Dawn struck on the day-high battlements, cold wind pulling at Damien's cloak. Horizon slowly got painted with pale orange and gray, deception calm descending unto the land.
"You look like a man carrying the weight of the world," said a voice behind him.
"I might be," replied Damien without turning.
Amara stepped up beside him to lean against the stone parapet. "The Silent Daggers are out of the picture. One less hassle, if you think about it," she murmured.
"They were a symptom," Damien said, his steel-gray eyes fixed on the horizon. "Not the illness."
Amara inclined her head. She was observing him with very careful attention. "You were thinking of Elyas."
"I think about Elyas always," Damien had to admit. "He's too quiet. It means he's planning something."
Amara's smirk faded, replaced by a rarely serious tenor. "Then we don't wait on him to move first."
---
Later that morning, Damien called his core advisers into a meeting. The war room was dim, heavy with the smells of parchment and wax, darkened as it was by the ash-tinted light filtering through heavy drapes lining the walls. Maps and documents littered the table, endless evidence of rebellion's distance from home.
General Aldric stood beside Damien, his grizzled face set in the contours of a frown. Amara, Carys, and Loric had stationed themselves at their typical positions, with expressions ranging from focused to grim.
"We have dealt a quite cruel blow to Elyas's operations," Damien called off his voice taut but steady. "But we are still fighting in the dark. He knows where we are, what we are doing, but as for him really... we haven't any idea where he will strike next."
"A shadow," Aldric said gruffly. "Hard to hit when you can see him."
"We need something," Damien said. "Something that tells us where he is and what he's planning."
Amara leaned forward sharply, a glint barely contained in her eyes. "And how do you suppose we get that? Elyas doesn't trail. He has everyone else do it for him."
Damien smiled as he spoke, "We shall find one of those people." He paused and continued, "Someone close to him. Someone who knows his plans."
But then Carys said, "It will be hard, though; Elyas trusts nobody."
"He has his weak spot," Damien asserted, "we are to find it."
The conversation ended with the entrance of a pale-faced and rather quaking-handed messenger, who handed a sealed letter to Damien.
"Your Grace, this came this morning," said the messenger. "Found it at the gates."
Damien narrowed his steel-gray eyes at the letter's seal before breaking it. The parchment was of fine quality, elegant and precise handwritten.
Damien,
This letter is in a way good; congratulations for your victories recently, as they have proven to be quite entertaining to me. But I have to caution you about something: the game is not over yet.
You've shown much ingenuity and resilience, but you're playing within the confines of the rules; I can't be considered limited in terms of that.
Watch out, old friend. The next move is mine.
Elyas
Damien's jaw locked as he read this letter aloud. The room felt silent with a tension thick enough to be cut with a blade.
"He's taunting us," Loric, his voice grave, said.
"No," Damien said with cold voice, "he's warning us. He wants us to know he is still in control."
"What's the next move then?" Amara crossed her arms, her steely blue eyes squinting slightly.
"We make him lose that control," said Damien. "He's overconfident enough to reach out to us. That's our cue to use on him."
--
The letter ignited the flames of productivity. Scouts were dispatched in search of any sign of Elyas's movements, and spies were sent to infiltrate the remnants of the network he had left behind. Damien and his team scouted through all pieces of information at their disposal, looking for even the tiniest clue about where they might find Elyas.
Hours turned into days but did not bring Elyas closer. The man was slippery, his plans unpredictable.
"This is of course what he wants," Amara declared one evening as they went over the maps for the one hundredth time. "He makes us run after shadows while he makes plans on his next move."
Damien leaned back into his chair-thoughts swirling in between his steel-grey eyes; "Then we stop chasing. We make him come to us."
Amara raised an eyebrow. "And how do we do that?"
"This is how we are baiting him," declared Damien, "by staging something which he will not be able to pass by."
"What if he does?" frowns Carys. "That's all a gamble, and Elyas is wise enough not to fall into a trap."
"Perhaps," Damien replied. "But then again, every man has a point beyond which he can be driven, and hitting that for him will leave him utterly powerless."
Damien's selected destination was the fortified estate on the outskirts of the kingdom; it was in this very manor that the rebellion of Reynard had at one time fought for its very life. In recent months, ever since Reynard's capture, the estate had lain gutted by time, but Damien knew well its strategic worth to Elyas.
"We'll make it look like we're establishing the estate as a supply depot," Damien suggested at the strategizing meeting. "Elyas couldn't resist making an opportunity of it."
"And when he does?" Aldric asked.
"We're waiting," Damien said.
Amara smiled. "I like it. How do you know for sure that Elyas will fall into the trap?"
"For that," Damien replied, "he's too arrogant. And because we are going to make it look far too tempting to refuse."
-----
They have passed through the traps with keen accuracy. Under the cover of night, Damien's army was already within the estate's premises building false supply depots, giving the illusion of a heavily fortified operation. Scouts were put up in the neighbouring forests, monitoring even the slightest sign of movement, as a contingent of elite soldiers was hidden within the estate.
Amara was in charge of the deception as her sharp instincts and cunning mind were invaluable.
"Make the patrolling look convincing," she instructed the troops. "We want them to think we're guarding something really important."
The setting of the trap made Damien uneasy, it told him that they were toeing very careful lines. The stakes would be very high if Elyas saw through the gaffe.
---
The long, uneasy wait had dragged on for days without a sign of Elyas or his forces, with a leaden aura settling on the estate.
On the fourth night, they were back with news: the scouts had reportedly seen a small but extremely skilled force approaching the estate.
"That's them," Amara said, anticipation spilling over in her voice.
Damien nodded, his steel-grey eyes narrowing. "Everyone into position. This ends tonight."
The first shadows began to move through the forest, and Damien awaited them in the heart of the estate, sword ready. Amara stood adjacent to him, her daggers glinting in the pallid moonlight.
"Prepared for this?" she smirked, cutting.
"Always," Damien said.
The replacements of Silent Daggers-a division of selective assassins and mercenaries-moved like ghosts through the trees; their deadly and precise movements caused the air to cool.
But Damien's army was waiting. The moment the perimeter breached the boundaries, the hidden soldiers sprung from their lairs and cut back against the intruders.
Amara dashed through the madness, her blades seeking their targets almost clinically. Damien battled with indomitable spirit, striking with every blow calculated and aimed.
The mercenary shouted in there, "Fall back! Regroup!"
Damien took a glance at Amara, his tone of voice becoming solid. "Don't allow them to escape. Answers are needed."
Amara laughed, her daggers awash with gore, "On it."
It ended as abruptly as it had begun: Damien's forces triumphed, and the remaining mercenaries were captured.
One of them held the royal seal of Elyas and served as a potential key to unraveling enemy plans.
As the night turned to dawn, Damien stood over the captured mercenary and looked at him with an expression in his cold steel-gray eyes.
"Where is Elyas?" he shouted.
Red, trickling from his lips, the man smirked. "Closer than you think."
Damien gritted his teeth, his determination growing. The game had changed again, and Elyas was closer than ever.
But so was Damien.