Chapter 223: POV Ambusher

Words : 1755 Updated : Oct 1st, 2025

Chapter 223: POV Ambusher A freezing fog had rolled down the mountain that morning, the cold vapors persisting long after the sun had risen. The morning light was so diffused that it was hard to tell what time of day it was, the sky no more than a featureless gray. The mist covered the forest, turning the trees into shadowy giants that loomed in the distance. Even sounds were damped by the thick shroud, making it difficult to hear anything that was more than a dozen yards away. The terrible weather was the perfect cover for an ambush. All the more reason Sorcha wanted to get the fuck out of the damned cursed village. “This is a terrible idea,” she complained, fully aware that her words were falling on deaf ears. “There are so many ways this could go wrong! What if there are more soldiers than you expect? What if they don’t want to negotiate? What if they call our bluff?” “Bluff?” Eike snapped, her sharp eyes turning on Sorcha. “What bluff?” Sorcha stared at the mad human, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. Surely, she wasn’t serious? Yes, she was a coldhearted bitch and she wasn’t above slitting a few throats to get what she wanted, but even Eike had to have her limits. There was a big fat fucking difference between killing a few people in a fight versus outright slaughter of captives! What in all of Samleos’ stinking abyss was going on between the woman’s ears? “Stavros,” Sorcha turned back to their leader. “Come on, let’s be at least somewhat reasonable here. We can’t actually kill them, they're prisoners! Imperial soldier prisoners! If we kill them, then we’re so fucking fucked! We’ll never be able to set foot in an imperial city again! We’ll be hunted down like demons!” Stavros’ silent back was all the response she got. The lean man continued to stare into the mouth of the cave, arms crossed, his vigil unwavering. Try as she might, she couldn’t get him to see reason. “Grow a backbone, runt,” Eike hissed as she polished the blade of her scythe. “There are more places in the world than the Empire. With all the eleria we’ve mined, we’ll be rich anywhere we go.” “You can’t be rich if you’re dead!” Sorcha shot back, waving her hand at the infuriating human. “How are we getting out of this gods forsaken land, eh? Did you think of that, you great big arse wipe? You think smugglers are going to be keen to put their necks on the line when we’re wanted for the killing of prisoners under ransom? We won’t be able to leave!” As Sorcha shouted, her rant was cut off by a quick move from the copper-haired killer. Suddenly, a wickedly sharp curved blade was sliding against Sorcha’s skin, the point just barely teasing the tip of her chin. “Maybe we just kill them all, then?” Eike murmured, her voice thick with bloodlust. “No crime to report if we leave no witnesses. Might as well get rid of the weeds that are getting in the way while we’re at it.” Sorcha didn’t move as Eike held the blade under her chin. Sweat beaded on her brow, her breath coming quick and fast through her nose. She resisted the urge to step away, knowing that any movement at all was apt to set the insane woman off. There wasn’t a chance in all the world that she would survive Eike’s attack if the madwoman decided to act on her depraved impulses. “That’s enough.” Eike’s deranged smile fell away just as her scythe moved back from Sorcha’s neck. Her lips curled into a snarl as she looked at Stavros’ back. “Just a thought,” she said as she leaned back against the stone wall. “I don’t need you thinking,” Stavros snapped, his low voice as cold as the mist. “Just keep your weapon ready and do as I say. We’ll get what we want and then we’ll be out of these lands before the winter fully sets in. These mountains have grown too crowded.” “Okay, yeah, fine,” Sorcha said, resisting the urge to rub at her throat. “But I still think we should cut our losses now and leave before—” “You’d leave them so easily?” Stavros spoke over her, his deep voice never raised in anger and yet all the more commanding for its softness. “What if it were you among those that had been caught? Would you argue so strongly then that the rest of us leave?” “...No. No I suppose I wouldn’t,” Sorcha admitted after a short silence. “That still doesn’t change the fact that this is a bad idea.” “Probably humans with some messed up class abilities,” she mumbled to herself. “Humans are all fucking crazy anyway. Of course they’d do something insane to alter their bodies. They all have their brains dribbling out of their noses. Feh.” Sorcha didn’t have long to wait, though. Sounds floated up from the bottom of the hill, silencing her grumbles. She couldn’t see much, just the shadowed outlines of the back of the buildings. There was some kind of activity, by the sounds of things. They were muffled, but she could hear voices, one of them probably Jockel, the fat fuck. Maybe he’d encountered the giants and was offering them terms. Wouldn’t it be nice if they decided to just surrender and then the whole fight would be called off? That dream was shattered a few seconds later when Sorcha heard the sound of something breaking. There were a few loud crashes, then, followed by shouts. Metal on metal. Metal on stone, metal on wood. Metal on something softer, no challenge to guess what. Another crash, louder and longer lasting, followed by another, then another. Sorcha jumped as a figure came running up the hill. It was Legs, sprinting as fast as he could while avoiding the traps Rickets had left. More crashes echoed dully in the village as a few more figures dashed up the hill, the fear on their faces becoming clear once they reached the top and came close enough for Sorcha to see the stark, wide-eyed panic. “Four,” Sorcha counted as another figure ran through the mist. “No, five, that has to be Jockel.” She watched the fat drunk stumble up the hill, the man nearly stepping right into one of the many pitfalls. He made it up, though, running like Samleos himself was on his heels. He disappeared into one of the buildings, joining some of the others that were waiting. That was five, but where were the others? All ten should have ran once the fighting started, to lead the enemy into the traps. “Oh, there’s—” Sorcha started to mumble, spotting another figure. Before she said more than two words, the shadow of a man collapsed onto the ground, having barely made it a third of the way up the hill. She couldn’t see what was wrong, but the lack of movement left little doubt as to the man’s fate. She didn’t know which poor sod it was, but she swore to say a prayer to Charos for the dead man once the fight was over. As she watched the still figure, her eyes were drawn to a bit of light that was bobbing in the mist. She quickly realized that it was a lantern of some kind, held high by an armored figure that was only just starting to move into view along the base of the hill. A moment or two later she could see a couple more shadowy figures surrounding the one holding the lantern. And then... “Fuck, that’s one of them,” she cursed as she saw one gigantic figure come into view. They all stood around the lantern, the giant’s massive size made apparent even at a distance due to the smaller people gathered around with it. It was carrying a huge hammer, the ridiculous weapon impractical for anyone except the most ridiculously strong. She watched, wide eyed, waiting to see what they’d do. Surely, the giant would charge forward, run up the hill after the men who’d fled from it, just like they’d done at the abandoned fort. So long as the giant came up the hill, it would hit at least one of the traps. Then the group could charge, take it down while the giant was vulnerable. Except, there was no charge. For a long while, there was no movement at all. The giant and the smaller figures following it simply stood there, doing nothing. A few minutes past, the wait making Sorcha antsy. What was the hold up? Was the giant expecting them to charge down the hill at them? Maybe Eike was stupid enough to do something like that, but Stavros would never let her, and scant few of their band were likely to join her. And where were the other two, anyway? Just as Sorcha was considering trying to sneak out and check with Stavros on what they should do, there was some movement. The hulking figure faded away as it walked back into the village, the buildings and mist obscuring all sight. The figure holding the lantern stayed, though, marking the spot. Maybe some of the others could start shooting some arrows at the idiot? Snipe them and provoke the giants into charging? A loud thump echoed from somewhere to the south. Sorcha craned her neck, trying to see through her cover, but couldn’t spot where the noise had come from. Another thump echoed, this one even louder than before. The sounds quickened, turning from distant muffled thumps to loud cracks and clatters. It sounded for all the world like an avalanche in slow motion. After a short span, as the clatter grew louder, or closer, shouting started. Voices she recognized, the other men in her group. She heard surprise, shock, and then panic. And then she heard Stavros call out, his deep voice booming. “Third position! Defend!” Third position. That meant the enemy had gotten past their outer perimeter and were inside their camp. They were under direct attack, the enemy on top of them. “What the fuck,” Sorcha cursed as she slipped out of her hiding spot to run into the mining compound. “How the fuck did they get past all the fucking traps?”

Chapter 223: POV Ambusher

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