“I still don’t get why Markus has to come.”

“Because,” He said, while checking over his pack. “While I have the utmost faith in Arlette, I’m not going to put the responsibility for rescuing Marcella in your hands.”

“Sure, I get that. I just think you’re better suited to bludgeoning people on the battlefield with your boarish hands. But, perhaps that’s just me.”

Markus breathed in to speak, but a glance from Arlette stopped him before he could. He settled with a venomous glare at Dere, who mocked a shiver in response.

They sat on the edge of a dense treeline, about four hundred yards from Karn’s walls. On the opposite side of the city from them, Maurius’ army marched in plain view, straight for the city’s Western gates. Most of the guard patrolled on that side, understandably distracted by the army heading towards them. Maurius would strike at sunrise. They were to go two hours before then.

“How long?” Dere asked, more out of impatience than anything.

“Just a bit longer.” Responded Arlette, not bothering to look in Dere’s direction.

Dere yawned and stretched his arms, loosening up for the day ahead. His eyes felt heavy in their sockets, but an anticipatory energy kept him alert. He fiddled with his new clothes, uncomfortable grey garb that helped him blend in with the shadows, a task made more difficult now that he was no longer made up of them. Arlette and Markus wore similar apparel, though they appeared more comfortable in theirs. He wondered if they gave him the worst pair.

Before he could voice that concern, Arlette interrupted him. “Okay, now.”

“Finally.” Dere muttered, forgetting whatever it was he was going to say. Like a wraith, he took off from his spot in the bushes, drifting through the night and across the plains without a sound. Arlette kept pace with him and managed to move quietly enough. Markus, though, made such a racket trampling through the underbrush that Dere wondered if there was any point to his own silence. Markus would announce their arrival to anybody near enough to hear anyway. Nevertheless, Dere kept his quiet as he moved, for the principle of it, if nothing else.

With time, and an embarrassing amount of noise, they reached the walls, by some miracle still undetected. Dere and Arlette hugged against the stone while Markus reached into his pack and withdrew a grappling hook. Swinging it in a circle, he built enough momentum and flipped it into the air. It hit the top with a soft clang and clung to the edge of the parapet. Dere gestured for Arlette to go. She shook her head. “What are you doing?” He whispered.

“I’m not going first. Not with you two down here. One of you go first. I’ll go last.”

“Why?” Markus hissed, impatience bristling underneath his tone.

Arlette gave him an incredulous look.

Understanding dawned on Dere’s sleep deprived mind. “You know what Arlette? I’m wounded that you would think of me that way. Wounded. Markus, I understand, but me?” Arlette shook her head, and Dere grinned. With no more hesitation, he grabbed the rope and hoisted himself up the twenty-five foot climb in a matter of seconds. With inhuman dexterity, he vaulted onto the top of the wall, landing with impossible silence. He looked around for any patrols and almost immediately found himself face to face with a young man in soldier’s garb.

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The man, the kid really, blinked his eyes twice. He had been sleeping against the wall, oblivious to the world around him. His helmet sat on the floor and his strawberry blond hair was padded down from the flat surface of the stone. At first, the kid didn’t really seem to understand what he was looking at. He and Dere merely gaped at each other, both equally surprised. Then, he came to a sudden realization. He opened his mouth to scream but never had the chance. Dere’s sword whipped out at blinding speed, slicing the kid’s neck and stifling the scream in his throat. For a horrifying second, he met Dere’s eyes, more confused than anything, and then, he simply tumbled over the wall, landing in the city below with an almost imperceptible thump.

His body laid at an impossible angle, broken and twisted on the ground. Dere locked his eyes onto it, unable to move them away. He didn’t know how long he stood there, watching the poor kid’s dying twitches, until he heard Arlette behind him. “What’s wrong?” She asked, oblivious to what just happened.

He closed his eyes for a second then turned around. Arlette stood behind him, looking at him quizzically. Markus hunched behind her, hauling the rope back up into his pack. Dere smiled, trying his best to make it look normal. “Nothing.”

Arlette inclined her head a tad, as if she wanted to ask something more, but she thought better of it.

“Alright,” Markus said, after he finished stowing the grappling hook. “We stick to Maurius’ plan. Arlette, you infiltrate the Western gate and open it for the army to get through. He and I will loop around towards the castle. We find Randas, kill him, and then rescue Marcella. You move around the other side once you’re done at the gate and meet up with us.” Arlette pursed her lips, unhappy with the plan. Markus took a deep breath. “Look… I… I know. But, I agree with Maurius that this is the best path forward. You’re our best chance at getting that gate open.”

“He could do it.” She responded, nodding her head in Dere’s direction.

Markus sighed. “We need him for Randas.”

Dere, who had been engrossed by something at the base of the wall, entered the argument. “I still don’t get why killing Randas is in this plan at all. Our job was to help Marcella escape. I fail to see how opening the gate or dealing with this Randas fellow has anything to do with that.”

“Maurius thinks…” Markus began.

“Oh, forget Maurius. It’s not my job to help him, nor is it yours. We don’t need Karn. He does.”

“Helping Maurius helps Marcella. Karn’s a strategically important point. It allows us to launch an invasion from the North.”

“It’s a deathtrap is what it is.” Dere hissed. “Whether we open those gates or not, Maurius is leading his army to slaughter. For what? So he can hold off Duval’s eventual assault for two weeks instead of a day? Marcella needs those men, and, more importantly, I need Marcella to have those men.”

“Enough!” Arlette said before Markus could respond. “This is the wrong time to argue about this, and you know it. We’ll stick to the plan. I’ll deal with the gate. You two deal with Randas. We meet back at the castle, if I’m quick. If not, get out of there with Marcella as fast as possible.”

Neither Markus or Dere looked particularly happy, but they each succumbed to the inevitable. “Fine.” Dere muttered. He turned away in the direction of the castle.

Arlette grabbed him by the arm and twisted him around again. Her blue eyes met his grey ones. “Look, I don’t know you, not really. I don’t know your name. I don’t know where you came from. I’m not even really certain what you are. But, I’m choosing to trust you. I can’t be there to save her. You will be. Promise me. Promise me you’ll get her out.”

Dere hated promises. Meaningless, really, his promise would never change his actions. There was something about the intensity with which she stared at him, though. The desperation in her pale eyes. How much she needed his word, however irrelevant it might be. “Okay.” He said. It was all he was willing to say. Arlette’s eyes glittered with gratitude, nonetheless.

She stepped back from him and gave the two of them a nod. Then, she just disappeared. If Dere looked close, he could maybe spot a slight distortion in the shape of a woman, but it looked as much like a trick of the eye as anything else.

“We should go.” Markus said, his impatience underlying the tone.

“Yeah.” Dere took one last downward glance into the city. Strawberry blond hair dotted with red blood glistened in the moonlight. With a feeling he didn’t quite understand settling uncomfortably in his stomach, he walked away.