If assassins managed to gain access to the mages’ wagons, they could kill several, if not all of the sleeping men and women before anyone managed to sound the alarm. With a silent apology to the general and his men, Edwin passed the junction that would’ve led him to the center, heading deeper into the jungle of tents. Mud sprayed under his feet as he flew through the sleeping camp like a specter, the sounds of his passing drowned out by the pouring rain.
In open terrain, Edwin could’ve crossed the distance in under half a minute. Confined to the paths and forced to slow down and turn repeatedly, it took him three times as long, but soon he arrived at his destination. There were only thirty mages with the division, but with the dedicated wagons for the masters and the different faculties as well as storage for their materials and books, there were almost as many vehicles that formed their own little neighborhood. Ten or so were drawn into a large square, while the rest were arrayed along paths branching off that central clearing. The College guards that served as drivers were nominally charged with protecting the perimeter of the small camp, but that didn’t amount to much during the day, let alone in the darkest hours of the night, so Edwin wasn’t surprised to be able to cross into the area uncontested.
He slowed down, quietly cursing the rain for making the search much harder than it had to be. Without it, he would’ve been able to enhance his hearing and listen for their footsteps, conversations, even their breathing. As it was, it wouldn’t achieve anything except making the constant rumble of raindrops uncomfortably loud. He took a testing breath, feeling his throat with a hand. It was mostly healed, certainly enough to let him speak.
If I start shouting now, the mages might leave their wagons to find out what’s going on, stumbling directly into any assassins that are lurking here. The group I came across was still getting into position, I might yet have time to find these ones and neutralize them quietly.
Decision made, Edwin turned a corner and looked down the next path, a tingle of mana allowing his eyes to pierce the darkness. Seeing nothing amiss, he fell into a light jog, scanning the spaces between the wagons on his left and right. Nothing. At the next junction, he turned towards the masters’ quarters.
He’d only gone two steps before spotting several dark shadows, the nearest hunched over at the door of a wagon only a short distance from him, and Edwin sped up again. The man seemed preoccupied fiddling with the lock, only turning his head when Edwin’s foot hit a puddle not two meters behind him. His expression didn’t even have time to change from surprise to shock before his head found itself sandwiched between the door and Edwin’s fist. Among the three contestants, the man’s cranium lost the battle and he collapsed where he stood.
Two quick steps brought Edwin to the next one. Like the first, he wore standard Harvand infantry armor, and he was still in the process of drawing his own blade when the one Edwin had taken from the first group of foes pierced his chest plate with a metallic screech. Edwin kept going, letting go of the weapon where it was stuck and bounding toward the next dark figure when a long shadow suddenly rose from the ground and smashed into him. Edwin shot backward, flying through the air until he slammed into the side of a cart head-first and collapsed into the mud.
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What just happened? Edwin thought groggily. In response, Walter flashed a series of pictures past his mind’s eye. A wooden plank lifting from the muddy path until it hung a meter above the ground, motionless. The same plank accelerating to inhuman speed from a standstill right before it hit him in the chest.
Crap. They have a mage.
Spurring his body into action, Edwin rolled under the wagon he had just slammed into and crawled out the other side. The vehicles were parked directly side by side to conserve space, so he barely fit into the small gap. Using the spokes of the wheels as a step, Edwin jumped up and grabbed the roof of the next wagon over, then pulled himself up. Keeping low, he ran along the roofs until he was behind where he’d seen the enemies and peeked over the edge. His angle was bad, as even with his inhuman vision the dark clothing of the men was almost invisible in front of a dark background like a muddy dirt path. Still, he quickly made out three figures moving to where he’d collapsed not ten seconds prior.
Which one is the damn mage?
They all looked the same, but a helpful replay by Walter told him that the one controlling the plank had most likely been the one he had been closest to.
He was over there, so if all three started moving to where I fell, it should be… this one!
Edwin jumped. For a few short moments, he majestically flew through the night, soaring towards his target like a bat. At the last moment, Edwin explosively contorted his body to impart as much force as possible into his right foot.
“Did you kill him?” his target asked. Crap.
The kick sent the man flying in one direction and Edwin careening in another. He hit the ground hard, immediately rolling to his feet and scrambling away when a familiar piece of wood slammed into his back, squeezing the air out of his lungs and pinning him to the ground.
“Who the hell is this guy?” a voice hissed behind him. The pressure on his back increased sharply, pressing Edwin into the mud. He could feel his skeleton shift as his ribs screamed in pain, but they held.
“Slit his throat already!” a second voice growled. “The damn mud is too soft for me to crush him!”
Edwin didn’t want either of those things, but thankfully only one of his arms was trapped under the plank, and telekinesis had a weakness. He tried to stay calm despite the pain and put his free arm behind his back, slowly running it across the length of the plank. A boot squelched into the mud next to his face, and he more felt than heard the man leaning down.
“Twice in one night?” Edwin growled. “Really?”
“What are you—” the man above him asked just as Edwin’s aura dissolved the mage’s grasp and the plank that held him down became no more than a wooden board. He twisted onto his back and grabbed the hand with the approaching sword, the eyes of its wielder widening. Edwin pulled, and the man who’d already been bent over lost his balance and fell forward. As his forehead came down, it met Edwin’s going up with a wet smack, and the assassin collapsed onto him. Lying on his back, Edwin didn’t bother trying to pry the man’s sword from his grip. He broke the assassin’s hand with a quick jerk, then turned it around and slammed the tip of the blade into the man’s lower back, just below his armor.
“Persistent little pest!” the mage hissed, raising his hand towards Edwin when a door behind him slammed open and a bright white light illuminated the path.
“What the hell is going on out here?”