“Then remain mounted,” stated Sheri. “Your excellent night vision will be useful to see if anyone is coming when I approach the mages tent. Should anyone approach, you can head them off until after I have dispatched the mages.”
Wylan frowned deeply as he removed the colorful patches that shielded his eyes. “I should be going into the tent, not you.”
“Nonsense,” retorted Sheri. “I can stab sleeping bodies with myric quills as easily as you can. The real danger will be getting out of the encampment when we are done. It will be particularly dangerous when it comes time to leave the tent. Your night vision is akin to a dwarf’s. I want those eyes of yours outside the tent to avoid being discovered by the enemy when I exit.”
Wylan sighed anxiously and did not respond to his wife’s words. Part of him wanted to demand that he be the one to enter the tent, but the other part of him realized that Sheri was right. She was more than capable of killing the mages, and it did make sense for him to keep watch.
“Twerp,” ordered Sheri, “it is time to find us a way into the encampment. Do not dally.”
“Dally?” quipped the fairy. “I will be back before either of you realizes how foolish you look in those uniforms.”
Sheri giggled as the little green man leaped off the head of the unicorn and shot into the dark sky. Even Wylan smiled inwardly as he momentarily cast off the dark gloom that had found a home in his heart. Wylan strapped his staff to Wesik and then he walked over to Sheri and wordlessly embraced her. For a long time they stood silently embracing each other. Eventually, Sheri pushed away and kissed Wylan tenderly.
“Now is not the time for such feelings, husband. We must keep our minds on the task at hand.”
Twerp chose that very moment to drop from the sky and land on Wylan’s shoulder.
“I have the perfect spot,” the fairy reported excitedly, but we must move quickly. A patrol passes through the area, and it has just gone by.”
Both Knights of Alcea responded without hesitation. They mounted their unicorns and took to the air. Twerp hung onto Wylan’s ear and directed him towards the chosen spot. The unicorns glided noiselessly through the canopy and landed lightly in a small clearing almost completely enclosed by thorny bushes. Wesik stepped cautiously as he maneuvered the narrow trail leading out of the clearing, and Sinora followed closely.
Their entry into the encampment had been far from the center, and their journey through the camp took them past many burned out campfires. While most of the Federation soldiers were fast asleep, there were still many up and about. Some sat talking quietly and others moved about. Several of them glanced at the two mounted soldiers with curiosity, but no one challenged them. Eventually they came to an area of the encampment that was dimly lit. Wylan glanced at the three large tents and felt a shiver race up his spine. They were clearly in the center of the enemy’s encampment and twenty-thousand soldiers surrounded them. He swallowed hard as he brought the unicorns to a halt in the relative darkness of a large tree on the edge of the big clearing.
Sheri slid off her unicorn without hesitation. She walked Sinora away from the large clearing so that Wylan would not be seen as having two horses. She tied the unicorn to a tree and then calmly pulled a small quiver out of her pack and strapped it on at her waist. She walked back to where Wylan and Wesik waited. With a glance around the open area, she marched towards the smallest of the three large tents. Before she had covered half the distance to the tent, a lone black-cloak emerged from the tent. Sheri smoothly altered her course so that she appeared to be merely passing by the tent. She continued on for a while and then gradually moved into the trees and doubled back towards Wylan and the Wesik. Eventually, she returned to where she had started.
“That was unexpected,” she said softly. “I guess they are not all sleeping. Where did he go?”
“He didn’t go anywhere,” Wylan replied. “He stood outside the tent for a while and then disappeared back inside. Perhaps this is not a wise idea.”
“Have courage, my husband,” Sheri smiled. “We can do this.”
“I know we can,” frowned Wylan, “but I have a strange foreboding about this mission. Let’s call it off. We can figure out another way to slay the mages.”
“Time is short,” retorted Sheri, “and we have no mage of our own to fall back on. We are already here. Let’s get it done.”
Without waiting for a response, Sheri once more set off on a path towards the mage tent. Wylan watched her go, marveling at the incredible amount of courage his wife had. In a way, he envied her.
Sheri marched up to the tent and grabbed a myric quill in her right hand. Her left hand reached for the tent flap, but her fingers never touched the fabric. In an instant, her confidence shattered and her body froze. She stared uncomprehendingly at her hand and saw her fingers trembling with fear. Her whole body shook with a feeling she had never experienced before. Her body quivered and she sweated sheets of perspiration. Her lungs shrunk, and she felt as if she could not inhale enough air to sustain her body. She gasped and began to pant loudly.
Suddenly, the tent flap flew open and a black-cloak stood before the Knight of Alcea. Sheri watched helplessly as the dark mage reached out and placed his hand on Sheri’s shoulder. A jolt of searing pain shot through Sheri, and she felt her limbs turn to jelly, her body collapsing under its own weight. Her eyes rolled up into her head and everything turned black.
Across the clearing, Wylan watched the horror unfold. He kicked Wesik into motion even though he could not save his wife. With a feeling of revenge, Wylan and Wesik charged the mage tent.
“Show your horn, Wesik. You will need it to help me avenge my Sheri.”
The unicorn did not respond, but tears flowed from his eyes as swiftly as those from Wylan’s eyes. Wylan pulled his staff from its restraining strap and glared at the black-cloak bending over Sheri’s body. The black-cloak must have sensed their approach because he suddenly straightened and turned to face the charging rider. His arms came up to cast a spell at the Knight of Alcea, but he was too late. Wylan’s staff reached out with a fury, its tip crushing the mage’s throat and tearing his head away from his body. As Wylan shook the skull from the tip of his staff, Wesik’s horn slashed through the fabric of the tent. The unicorn carried his partner into the mage tent.
The commotion had already woken the remaining seven black-cloaks. Shouts of surprise filled the tents as the unicorn slashed his way inside. Arms rose threateningly towards the Knight of Alcea on the unicorn’s back, but Wylan had anticipated such a response. He dove from Wesik’s back as soon as he was through the tent wall. Half a dozen magical projectiles soared above the unicorn’s back, some igniting the tent fabric, while others sliced through the thin material.
Wylan came out of his dive in a roll and sprang to his feet with his staff extended before him. The black-cloaks scattered, trying to put space between themselves and the staff-wielding lunatic. They were not all successful. Wylan jabbed his staff into the stomach of one mage and then snapped it upward when the mage doubled over in agony. The upward thrust drove the mage’s nose into his brain. The black-cloak collapsed to the floor.
On the other side of the room, the forgotten unicorn sent the black-cloaks a message of his own. Wesik speared a black-cloak with his horn and then tossed the corpse at the remaining mages. Wylan took advantage of the distraction to move in closer and swing his staff at the closest mage. The staff struck with a resounding crack. The mage’s body flew through the air and slammed into one of the tent’s supports. The tent shook wildly, and part of it started to collapse. Another part of the tent was burning from the earlier spells cast at Wylan. The Knight of Alcea knew that his time in this world was fast expiring. He tucked his staff in and dove towards the remaining mages, intent on taking as many of them with him as he was able to.