The edge of the Laauar Plains wasn't soft country.
As the group rode, they reached the plains' outer rim shortly before nightfall.
The group rode slow the last stretch. The terrain had been shifting for miles, and now it split more openly, forming narrow cuts in the ground that forced them to adjust their path every few steps.
Mirel rode between two soldiers at the rear. His hands and feet remained tightly bound. The captors had learned nothing useful from him besides the path to the keep. It was unclear whether he truly knew nothing more, or if the beatings had simply failed to break his resolve.
Jeriko called a halt near a rocky rise. The men dismounted without orders. They were close now.
From the ridge they had a clear view of the keep ahead. It was far from grand; it was a simple stone building standing alone on flat land. Its outer walls were dull with frost. A thin trail of smoke curled from a single chimney. It was the only sign of life for miles. The structure looked lived-in; someone had been here.
The path to the keep was barely more than packed soil, with only faint traces of boot and hoof. All around it there were only patches of frozen scrub and a creeping line of snow advancing from the west.
Jeriko stood at the edge of the slope with his arms crossed.
Two scouts crept forward – slender men carrying minimal gear, built for speed and stealth.
Jeriko finally broke the silence, "You know your job." The scouts nodded and disappeared into the darkness: one heading east, the other west.
The rest of the men took up hidden positions among the rocks and trees.
Vencian watched the keep.
He couldn't see movement on the wall, but he knew they were there. Mirel hadn't lied. Ortega had men here – and maybe answers too. Jeriko returned to Vencian's side
"We'll divide from four sides once they return."
Vencian nodded.
He didn't ask how long it would take. They both knew how to wait.
The sky dimmed as dusk settled over the plains. The red streaks in the clouds vanished and the wind died away.
Soon the scouts reappeared from the darkness, heading back toward them. One crept up and reported in a low voice: "Two on the wall, one at the door, three at the front post. Lazy patrols; their pattern hasn't changed."
Jeriko scanned the ground around the keep and pointed silently at two opposite sides. He gave quick hand signals to his nearby men.
Then he whispered, "We'll surround them on all sides. Avoid open fights and torches. Stay quiet until we find Sebastian."
The men spread out into position immediately. Vencian adjusted his gloves and lowered his stance. Darkness was about to be their shield; they were ready.
When the last light of dusk finally died away, they moved. Four units of five men each split off from the ridge, spaced around the keep and creeping quietly.
Jeriko led the front unit; Vencian stayed with the rearguard. His role was to hold back – the others knew better than to argue. Vencian rode with two men carrying short blades and wearing light armor.
They kept low on their horses, moving slowly; one of them glanced back every few steps to keep watch behind them.
Vencian trusted these soldiers. The army of Vicorra was, without question, one of the strongest the kingdom had ever known. It wasn't for nothing that they could defend the borders without having a single Arkspren in their ranks for a century now.
The approach was slow and silent. The wind carried across the field without breaking.
Up close, the keep looked worse than before. Stones were missing from the base of the outer walls and the main door was battered and patched. The lone guard at the gate was on duty by default – he leaned against the post and faced the wrong way, apparently in a light sleep.
Jeriko's team struck first. Two of his men circled a half-collapsed side wall. The gate guard never saw them coming; a silent strike sent him down without a sound. Nearby, another soldier scaled the cracked wall and toppled one of the other guards before he could react.
The second guard tried to flee, but only managed a few scrambling steps before collapsing.
No shouts or alarm.
Within a minute, all visible guards were down.
Jeriko gave a single hand signal. Two men rushed the heavy gate and pushed it open slowly. The hinges remained still as the wooden door swung wide. At his gesture, the rest of the squad slipped through into the courtyard.
Inside, the keep was tight. A courtyard with empty barrels. One firepit. Empty. A few steps led to a hall on the left. Another stairwell curved downward behind the main structure.
Jeriko pointed to both directions. One team each.
Vencian followed the team heading left. He kept his boots light on the worn stone floor. The hallway was narrow and silent; at its end two heavy doors stood closed.
One of the men tried the first door. It wouldn't budge. Without hesitation, they moved on and tested the second. It gave way with a quiet push.
Beyond that door two more guards sat at a table. One had removed his helmet. Neither man had time to react.
Vencian's team struck swiftly; both guards went down silently. The soldiers dragged their bodies out of view.
They kept moving.
The next room was a store. Nothing useful. Dry food. Some broken crates.
At the far end they found another stone stairway.
The stairs curved down and ended at a small wooden door. Jeriko's men were already there, waiting on the other side. They exchanged a quick hand signal. On Jeriko's motion, one of the soldiers gently pushed the door open.
They entered a bare, windowless room with two beds along the wall. In the corner sat a solitary figure, ankles and wrists bound. Sebastian. His face was ashen, but his eyes were focused and sharp.
He said nothing. Neither did the men. Jeriko swept the corners with his sword as another soldier knelt and cut Sebastian's bonds. Sebastian flexed his cramped fingers with a soft groan as blood returned. Still, he remained silent.
Vencian stood near the doorway.
The others were already inside, weapons lowered. Jeriko was checking Sebastian's pulse while two men watched the hall.
Vencian scanned the room again. His eyes landed on the faces he recognized. The ones who had entered from the west wing. Then the pair from the courtyard. The runner from the rear side. Jeriko's team from the front.
The others were still outside. They trickled in over the next minute.
They quickly regrouped and exchanged curt nods. Swords slid back into their scabbards. Everyone was tense and focused
He started counting.
First, by memory. Two had taken the gate. Two more climbed the wall. Three were stationed to secure the inner halls. His own group cleared the left wing. Jeriko's team swept the right.
He went over each takedown in his head. Visuals, where they fell, who dragged the bodies. He wasn't guessing.
Fourteen.
He counted again. Fourteen.
His fingers tapped lightly against his side. The last one didn't show. There were supposed to be fifteen.
He stepped out into the hallway. It was completely still. Not a sound came from behind them or from the lower level.
Vencian said nothing. He knew better than to raise an alarm. But he knew, with sinking certainty, that something was very wrong.
Then a new noise crashed the silence. Footsteps, light and fast, pounded from the stairwell behind them.
An urgent shout echoed as metal whispered out from the darkness. The soldier guarding the door turned in time to see an arrow streak toward him. It slammed into his neck and he collapsed silently.
Jeriko reacted immediately, pivoting and shielding Sebastian with his own body, sword already in hand. "Positions!" he barked. The men dropped into defensive postures.
Another arrow landed near the doorframe. Then more footsteps. They came from the back corridor and below.
"They're inside," someone said.
Vencian backed into the side of the room, trying to track how many had entered.
They had cleared fourteen.
This was more than one.
Jeriko turned his head halfway. "Close ranks. Protect Sebastian!"
Vencian's hand hovered over the sword at his side. It was more for appearance than use.
The attackers came fast. Three men hurled themselves through the doorway at once. Two were cut down instantly. The third managed to slash at a soldier's side before being tackled to the ground. The clamor of battle filled the hall.
The hall filled with shouts.
Another sound came from behind.
Vencian started to turn, but it was already too late.
An arm wrapped around his chest. Another pushed a blade to his throat. Tight and practiced. His own knife was pinned under his coat.
Jeriko saw it.
He stopped mid-step.
The others did too.
The voice came a moment later. Quiet, amused.
"Drop your weapons. Or I open him up."
Vencian froze.
The arm holding him was cold and steady.
He heard breathing near his ear.
Jeriko stared at the intruder behind Vencian. Something in the man's stance was eerily familiar. Recognition flickered in Jeriko's eyes.
Vencian could not see the man's face, but that voice... it was hauntingly familiar. A fragment of memory brushed his mind but slipped away.
The blade at his throat inched closer. And then the room went utterly silent.