“I don't think we've been followed,” Merdon said softly from within the forest. Sarel was next to him and she nodded in agreement. “It's been hours and we haven't seen anyone coming.”

“Quickclaw agrees,” the kobold vocalized. “We should move further into the forest and set up camp for the night. As close to the border as we can.”

Merdon grunted and started to move, Quickclaw having his back as they pushed deeper into the forest. It wasn't night yet, but Sarel made a good point. If they crossed into orcish lands in the dark, the chances of being caught by a roaming patrol were higher than moving in the daylight. Setting up camp that early felt odd, but it was their best course of action. Doing it in the light also allowed them to set things up more cleanly. Sarel was able to pace around the campsite and make adjustments, hiding things from outside view. Their place of rest was slightly conspicuous due to all of the concealment but it was a necessary fault. At least, Merdon felt it was once he got settled in. Things had been easy so far, traveling for days on end without seeing a patrol or guard was welcome, and yet things were sure to change from that point on. Even Quickclaw felt the shift coming, her peppy mood slowly decaying the closer they got to the border forest. Now, she was just as serious as her mate was.

They killed time, having a snack of some bread and cheese, things that would go bad first with the temperatures climbing during the days, and chatted. Merdon, having noticed Sarel's mood during their stay in Verist's tower, had something rather important to ask her. Though it felt out of place to come up so suddenly.

“Sarel,” he started quietly, as they sat in the forest, the blue kobold looking up from her pack while double-checking her supplies. “What do you want after all this?” Merdon asked slowly, searching for the right way to phrase his question.

The kobold stopped and frowned. “What do you mean, verakt?”

“I mean, I noticed how antsy you were in the tower,” he replied. “Like you couldn't wait to get on the road again. Eventually, I'll have to stop traveling, you know.” He would get old, have difficulties moving so much.

Sarel laughed, covering her mouth to stifle the sounds. It was too hard to resist. “Verakt,” she assured him, “Sarel was bothered by the witch's tower because of what it was, who it belonged to. When the day comes you must settle down, Sarel will be right there beside you.”

That put Merdon at ease in his mind. “I knew the tower bothered you, it just...” The human paused and frowned. He couldn't think of the right words.

“Sarel's attitude concerned you,” she supplied. “You felt she would eventually become bored of any place, her nature being what it is.” Curious and rebellious. Merdon had to nod. Those thoughts had crossed his mind, whether he entertained them seriously was another matter.

“I shouldn't be asking things like that now,” Merdon told her. “I'm sorry.”

The blue-scaled kobold shook her head and stepped over to him. “You should ask questions, verakt,” she consoled him. “Relationships change with time. If we never stop to question where we are, we will simply drift apart without effort to remain together.”

Merdon nodded and gave Sarel a quick hug. She had a very special way of making him feel better about these missteps and questions he felt were obvious to others. It amazed him sometimes that she put up with his nonsense in the beginning and continued to do so. At some point, she had to hit a limit, surely, but that point never seemed to come. To him, Sarel was supernaturally gifted for putting up with his ignorance.

Soon, a map came out of Merdon's pack and the pair discussed their travel path. The orc's territory was largely unmapped by Avant, so the map was spotty at best, but that didn't mean there was nothing to glean from it. Sarel nodded as she listened to her verakt explain the path they would most likely have to take if they wanted to be as undetected as possible. While there was some thought to being seen, to getting escorted, approaching openly, there were also worries about being turned away or outright attacked before a plea could be made. If they managed to make it to the orc capital before then, their chances increased of impressing the orc leader. It was a gamble, and Sarel knew that. However, such things second nature to thieves, as every job came with an inherent risk.

After a small dinner, the couple curled up in their bedrolls and made to get some sleep. Sarel could keep just as sharp an ear out laying next to Merdon as she could anywhere else, and with the forest around them, her hearing was a better detection system than her eyes. The small fire they had built was swiftly extinguished after their meal, and that left the night silent and calm. Around them, the forest teemed with small life. Bird songs gave way to insect chirps, small creatures made their homes in trees for the night, nests and knotholes. It was perfect for Sarel to lay still and listen for anything unnatural. The sound of footsteps, armor, perhaps a horse if they weren't intending on being quiet, anything that didn't belong in the forest.

Hours passed with the moon rising up overhead, the stars out in full brightness, the forest silent and natural, as it should be. No more rustling than the creatures of the night. Until, near the time for Merdon to take a shift, Sarel heard a bowstring. Not something loud, not all that close either, and it was followed by a loud shout which roused her companion immediately. He looked at her, but the kobold had no words, only to point with her claw. Dangerous as it may have been, there was no time to put his armor on. Merdon simply grabbed his sword and shield before moving towards the sounds of combat that had broken the peaceful night.

Deeper into the forest the odd couple moved, each foot bringing them closer to the noises. A small clearing came into view, just enough foliage near the ground to obscure them from sight by crouching surrounded the outer edge, and inside the clearing itself was a campfire. By that orange glow, the two saw an impressive display. One human stood encircled by five others, a bow in his hand. With a grin, the cornered man turned and swung, his bow shimmering and turning into a sword somewhat longer than Merdon's own. The summoned blade reached the neck of its target, just barely, causing the enemy to shout and stumble backward as he choked on his own blood.

“Get him!” one of the men shouted, causing the other four to leap into the fray at once.

Merdon felt paralyzed as he watched the stranger fight. His motions were that of a trained, seasoned even, fighter. Even Sarel stared as the man parried several blows with the ease of a father sparring with his young children, a man in his prime with ten times the amount of experience as those facing him. Though they had numbers the men were simply outfought. Every thrust and slash made them open, and before long the stranger was taking advantage of those openings. His blade thrust and piercing chests, stopping hearts, its edge slicing eyes, cutting throats. A deadly but entrancing dance of destruction that left nothing but corpses in its wake. And when he finished with them, the pair in the bushes were left with a quandary. To reveal themselves and hope the man wasn't as hostile to them, or slink away quietly as possible and hope the five men were his targets. Their question was answered when the man stood up and called out.

“I know you're over there,” he said, just loud enough to be heard. “It's not nice to spy, you know.”

Merdon grit his teeth, wishing he had his armor on as he stepped out of the brush. “I'd say killing a few travelers is less nice,” he said, at least giving a reason why he was hiding.

“True,” the stranger admitted as his sword vanished into thin air. A mysterious weapon that made the knight's skin go cold. “But these were no simple travelers,” he explained. “They were bandits looking to sell their wares in orc's lands.”

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Merdon had to ask, “And that's your job?”

The stranger grinned and said, “As an Eyes of Ethral, yes it is.”

The knight's blood turned to ice as his fight or flight kicked in. The glade wasn't so large he couldn't reach the Eyes before he attacked if he were using a normal weapon. That summoned blade, however, was different. Merdon wasn't sure if he could take the man before it came out. His grip subtly tensed on the hilt of his sword, just in case he needed to defend himself.

“So,” the Eyes said slowly, still smiling. “You are the kobold whisperer, yes? Don't be surprised, of course you would run for the orc's homeland, who else would take you?” It was exactly as they feared.

“If you know who I am, then you know better than to try and fight me,” Merdon bluffed, drawing his sword. It was one less motion he had to make if he wanted the first strike.

Of course, it also prompted the return of that silvery summoned blade from his opponent. “True, but I can see you're hardly on my skill level, not with this.”

Interested in keeping him talking, Merdon asked about the sword. “It's hard not to notice,” he commented. “What's so special about it? Other than the fact it can disappear at will.”

The Eyes chuckled. “This is no simple blade,” he chastised the knight. “This weapon is conjured from the soul of a great sword fighter. That, whisperer, is my special talent, why I'm the head of the Eyes of Ethral.” His statement made Merdon grip his blade tighter. The leader of the Eyes of Ethral, there, at the border? Their luck couldn't have been worse.

“I'm guessing you're not here to escort me out of Avant,” Merdon joked while he visually probed for an opening.

The man laughed. “Not hardly,” he said, stepping forward, his blade at the ready. “I'm here to test you, and then kill you.”

His slow advance gave Merdon enough time to ready himself and then smack his shield into effect. The monstrous faced shield would pull any swings towards it, giving the unarmored knight some protection. It worked, the first strike from the Eyes pulling him off balance and into the shield, leaving him confused as Merdon retaliated. While the Eyes muttered about cheating and swung again, only to be thwarted by the shield once more, his opponent struck back harder, drawing blood. Irritated, the stranger called a shield to his own hand as his sword changed shape.

“Less knowledgeable, more defensive,” he muttered.

Merdon pressed him between swings, “What is it with your power? Just to summon arms?”

The Eyes gave no mention to his secrets beyond what he'd shared already. Only a smirk followed by a series of blows. Merdon was once more forced to admit the man, young as he was, was skilled. Avant's most prestigious military group wouldn't accept lackluster members after all. It only followed the one who led them all was the most skilled, the most fervent warrior, assassin, whatever he was. And, the way he could change weapons in the middle of an attack was special, terrifying in its own way. Where one may have seen an opening, someone who uses so many weapons had to have a weak point, a weapon they were unfamiliar with, Merdon found none. Every strike was near perfect to Merdon, every move, every stance, even when he changed from the sword and shield back to a single blade for a time, it was impeccable.

Amid the unwavering attacks, the strength being exerted by the Eyes seeming to increase with every blow, a horrid realization came to Merdon's attention. One blow that pushed him backward, was met with an odd sound and the sight of a metallic chip coming off his shield. The Eyes grinned maliciously and began swinging faster, harder, without abandon. “Your defenses are starting to crack,” he taunted amidst his onslaught. Merdon grit his teeth as he understood he'd been fighting too passively because of his lack of armor. There was only one way to win and that was to drive his foe off, wound him in some way.

The knight renewed his assault, making sure his shield was always ringing to divert attacks despite its damage. They were more evenly matched with sword and shield together, but only thanks to Merdon's own magical gear. If he'd been fully armored, he could have won by himself, so he thought, but as he was busy protecting his own vital spots, there was no room for him to act too recklessly, to push the advantage and get a killing blow. Too much longer and one of them would have capitulated due to fatigue before the other could land that final strike. That was where Sarel gave Merdon the advantage.

She had been watching from the trees, waiting for the right time to jump in. No opening was more perfect than a weary opponent. With deft claws she lunged, her dagger coming out midair. Unfortunately, the Eyes was expecting some backup, knowing the kobold whisperer didn't travel alone, and so he moved out of the way, of a normal reach. Quickclaw swore as she grabbed his arm with her tail, surprising the man, and giving her time to swing around and bury her blade in his shoulder. Nowhere lethal, yet, and she was forced to kick off of him when he swung at her with his sword. Still, the pair now had the lead. Two against one, and the kobold was ready to kill, her stance low and ready.

The Eyes scowled and slowly backed off. His weapon and shield popping out of existence as he clutched his shoulder. “This is far from over,” he growled at the pair. “The Eyes see all, whisperer. You cannot hide from us, even among the filthy orcs. We will get you.”

Merdon straightened himself up and looked the stranger in the face. “We're not running,” he told the man. “We're building an army.” He wanted them afraid, he wanted them to worry. If they were focused on him, on the orcs, then Skyeyes and Red could move safely through Avant. And his ploy worked.

“A rebellion? You?” he asked, his eyes wide before he cackled. “Oh, that is just glorious! I can't wait to give those orders. Hell is going to rain down you, and I get to be the one to deliver it. I might even get a cage for your pet while I'm at it, a trophy.”

The knight stepped forward, ready to attack, but Quickclaw was faster. Her wrist flicked and sent a dagger right into their enemy's thigh, causing him to shout and fall. Taken back by that, Merdon stopped, and his hesitation was enough time for the Eyes to pull out a trinket of his own for teleportation. He looked at the pair with deep hatred as he disappeared into a flash of light.

“We should go,” Merdon said, turning back towards their camp with his sword still drawn. “To the orc lands, now.”

Sarel bounded to keep up with him. “Now? It's dark,” she reminded him.

The knight shook his head. “We've been compromised. We have to go now. It's too risky. You heard what Verist said about her own tokens, they can take us back as well.” Meaning the Eyes of Ethral could return at any time.

The thief focused for a moment before agreeing. “Yes, you're right. We aren't safe here anymore, but we might not be any safer beyond the borders.”

“No,” he admitted. “Not right away, but the deeper in we go, the better.” The Eyes being caught would mean another war, it would only help their cause, and it would be hard for them to follow the pair through all the orc's patrols.

They collected their things quickly, Merdon putting his armor on with Sarel's help, and started off as soon as they were able. It was tough going in the dark of night, with little light to see the brush and branches in their way they sounded like a bull crashing through a fence, but speed was key now. The knight didn't run, but he moved as rapidly as he could without wearing himself down more. Nowhere in the forest was safe, even though technically half of it sat in the orc's territory. That wouldn't matter to the Eyes of Ethral, and neither would crossing out of the forest for that matter. All they could hope for was to be as deep into the neighboring country as possible by the time the man and his magically summoned weapons came back to look for them.

As night turned into day and the sun rose high overhead, Merdon was forced to stop out of exhaustion. The forest was well behind them, but another problem reared its head as they halted in the orc lands. All around them were flat grasslands, plains with no cover nor significant foliage. Sleeping there was dangerous. No cover, not even a hill to hide behind, meant the Eyes could use a simple pair of binoculars to spot them. Worse yet, Merdon wasn't the only one who was tired, but they had no choice. Sarel laid herself down first, intending to nap while her mate at least tried to set up something to disguise them from far away. He was running on pure adrenaline and the crash was going to hit him sooner or later, regardless of whether he accomplished his task. The best he could hope for was Quickclaw being rested enough to keep watch while he slept for a time as well, and then seeking better shelter for the next night.

The knight barely managed to erect some low cover made from the surrounding grass and a tent, something a stiff breeze would knock over, before falling over. His eyes burned, his eyelids were like lead, and his body ached like never before. Everything screamed for rest, fitful as it may have been. Merdon almost didn't awaken Sarel before sleep forced itself upon him. For a moment after waking up, the blue-scaled kobold worried he might have died, but it was just her own sleep-deprived mind. She huddled under the cover her verakt had put up and waited. It was her least favorite activity, but, in this instance, she felt hyper-vigilant. Her verakt was trusting her to watch out for him, and she would not let him down, no matter how much she wanted another few hours of sleep herself. Sleep would not take her if she had anything to say about it.