“There’s roughly an hour left until dawn.”
“How long will the mist last after you leave?”
“A few minutes,” she answered, “no more. Are you sure you don’t wish to negotiate the terms of your next favor?”
Will bent his knees, then straightened them again, finding new appreciation for ground that didn’t move underneath him. “No. I’ll finish on my own.” He regretted the wording immediately, but Tailtiu only snickered lightly before vanishing in the mist.
With an hour left he knew Fulstrom’s army would be readying to march, but rather than slip past the sentries and return immediately he decided on another path. Slipping forward through the mist, he caught one of the sentries with his source-link spell and disabled him before doing the same to the man’s companion. Once more he considered killing them, but he pushed the thought aside. They won’t be able to fight until this battle is long over.
Expelling the turyn he had stolen, he moved on, targeting the next group of sentries fifty yards down the line. With luck he could get them all, giving the enemy army even less time to react when the Terabinian troops arrived.
Chapter 50
Will found the task of disabling the sentries so easy that by the time he got to the last pair he decided to experiment. He remembered seeing his grandfather catch three men at once, so he thought he would attempt to get both men at once. It turned out to be harder than he had anticipated, and he failed spectacularly.
One of the two spells fizzled immediately, and the second missed its target. The mist had already faded away, and one of the sentries caught a glimpse of his figure in the dark. The guard called out to his companion, and the two men lowered their spears in Will’s direction.
Shit! He repeated his effort, aiming for just one man this time. When the line of his spell connected, he injected a healthy dose of his turyn into the man. It was far quicker than draining the sentry, and with the other soldier leaping to skewer him, time was at a premium. His target fell forward, vomiting, while Will tried to dodge right to keep from being impaled.
The tip of the spear tore through his left trouser leg, grazing the skin. Will tried to move closer, drawing his sword, but his opponent was too quick. The sentry backpedaled, bringing the point of the spear back in line for another thrust, and Will was forced to retreat. It was quickly becoming obvious that the instructors hadn’t been lying—a sword was a lousy weapon against a spear in an open field. Making matters worse, he wasn’t wearing any armor.
I’m about to die. Will took advantage of the distance between them to turn and run.
The sentry ran after him, but in the dark the sentry quickly lost sight of him. Will circled around, watching the guard stumble through the night, then he closed on the man from the rear. He had just gotten close enough when the man spotted him again, but it was too late. Will’s spell connected with the sentry’s source, and he sent a powerful pulse of turyn into the man. Before the soldier could recover, he ran forward and thrust his sword into the sentry’s belly.
It was anything but a clean death. The soldier groaned and fell forward, vomiting onto Will as he stumbled and tried to stay on his feet. Will thrust again, this time higher, but his sword caught in the soldier’s gambeson, merely grazing the man’s ribs.
In the end it took him three more thrusts to finish the sentry off, and the man screamed repeatedly, begging him for mercy. Will felt cold tears running down hot cheeks as he tried to suppress his guilt. Then he looked around for the last remaining sentry.
The nauseated soldier had gotten to his feet and was running back toward the enemy encampment. Will went after him, catching up easily as the man fell and started retching again. What followed was simple murder. He felt a wave of nausea pass over him that had nothing to do with magic as he finished the man off, but he didn’t vomit.
Closing his eyes tightly, Will spent several minutes getting himself under control. Then he bent and cleaned his sword on the dead man’s gambeson before sheathing it. He set his feet on a westerly course, back toward his friends. He had a report to deliver.
***
The companies had already assembled into marching order when he arrived.