'That'll be where Selik is,' said Hirad.
'All in good time,' said Darrick. 'We'll do this in the right order and be the safer for it.'
They moved quietly now, heading for the first tents. Spread panic, Darrick had said. Target the tattoos. Let them make the moves and see who is prepared to fight. Not many, guessed Hirad, but time would tell.
Fifty yards from the tents and all was according to Darrick's plan. The bulk of the Black Wings were looking after themselves in the stockade and the innocents, if you could truly call anyone that who had travelled here to fight with Selik, were unguarded in their tents. They didn't understand conflict. Didn't realise the vulnerability of masses of men to targeted magical attack. Why should they? They were tradesmen.
'He'll have paid mercenaries too,' said The Unknown. 'We'll know them when we see them.'
'Paid,' mused Hirad. 'An unfamiliar idea for us these days.'
'Erienne, Denser, ready?'
The pair nodded, preparing, melding their constructs for wider effect.
'A short sharp shower. When it's down, we go and we don't stop,' said Darrick. 'Is everyone clear?'
'Ilks?' asked Hirad.
'My ears are on the side of my head not in my gut, Hirad. Yes, I hear and understand.'
'Just checking.'
Hirad felt a touch on his back. 'Thank you.'
Hirad readied himself, checked his hilt for loose binding again and angled the blade to see the edge. The drizzle had stopped and the cloud was shifting. It would be a bright dawn. A few birds began to call. From somewhere the bleating of a sheep carried over to them. It was tranquil. Just for a moment.
'Casting,' said Denser faintly.
HotRain filled the sky above the southernmost tents. For a while they watched it fall, tears of flame the size of thumbs. Thousands of them. People were going to die in terror. So be it. From the stockade the first shouts of alarm were raised. HotRain struck canvas and canvas burned. The screaming began.
'Raven!' yelled Hirad. 'Raven with me!'
He ran towards the first tents, seeing movement bulging against the canvas. The HotRain shower was almost gone but it had done its job, deluging the acre of canvas in flame. Everywhere smoke was rising, fires agitated at rope and cover and the pitch of voices rose with every heartbeat.
He slashed at the guy ropes of the nearest tent and thumped his hilt against a shape inside, sending the victim sprawling.
'Run!' he shouted. 'Run!'
A head emerged from a flap. Hirad smashed his fist into it and dragged the body out, his clothing smouldering. He pulled their faces close.
'Run. Don't look back. Take your friends.'
The man jabbered as Hirad dropped him, then he wiped blood from his mouth and took to his heels away out of Understone.
The Raven roared through the burning campsite. Aeb laying about him with his axe, smashing ridge poles, splitting skulls and kicking burning canvas into the air. Thraun was howling like the wolf he had once been and, like Hirad, was shouting at men to run and not look back. The Unknown and Darrick strode in behind, the mages at their backs, preparing again.
Utter mayhem descended. Swords slashed, burning men flailed uselessly, cries crescendoed and the choking smoke thickened. Hirad turned on a pair of men standing with swords ready; neither was fully dressed, neither a soldier. He sprang at them, hacking downwards as he landed, his blow striking the blade of one and jarring it from his hands.
'What are you waiting for? Fight or run, I'm happy either way.' He switched his grip three times, very fast. The men turned and ran to join those pouring into the main street and away. Most of them headed out of the town but a few went up towards the stockade in which activity must be starting in earnest.
'Raven!' called The Unknown. 'Move on!'
The campsite was pitched next to the grain store. The Raven gathered by its rear doors, out of sight of the stockade, hauled them open and ran inside. Auum saw the signal. The rain of fire from the sky. He sprinted into the town on the north side of the main street and headed for the second tent encampment. The elves would spread their fear in another way entirely. The ClawBound panther roared and leapt at the nearest tent, her bound-elf at her side, slicing through the bindings.
Auum and his Tai split. His blade carved open the side of a tent, revealing all those inside, five of them just coming to waking. Very slowly. Auum whipped his sword into the upturned face of one, stamped down on the head of the next and moved through the panicked tent, his blade flickering, his feet jabbing out. Taking a man through the eye, he leant in to the last survivor and used the word he had been taught.
'Run!'
He peeled away. Screams filled the air around him. The panther had torn the throat from a stranger and by her, the bound-elf faced a man carrying a sword he had no idea how to use. He swung it but the elf simply stepped inside the blow and rained straight-fingered blows into his exposed neck, blood spraying over his face. The man dropped. The ClawBound moved on.
Auum tracked them through the camp. Duele emerged from a tent right, a survivor racing in the opposite direction. Evunn had split the stomach of a stranger stupid enough to face him and was moving on towards the main street. The panther darted around the camp, roaring at every turn, growling deep, teeth and claws lashing out, scraping rents in tent sides.
The sound of voices was a babble of fear. Auum smiled mirthlessly, watching the strangers run, many only part-clothed. Across the street, the other camp burned fiercely and through the tumult he could hear The Raven. Like causing a stampede of animals. The night, the fire, the smell of blood and the threat of steel. Too easy. But down on the street, up towards the end of the town where the stockade stood, it would be more difficult. Men were gathering.
It was time to move. Lanterns were alight in the grain store, which had become a dormitory for three dozen and more. The Raven hauled the doors back to see men in the act of scrambling to put on clothes and belt weapons. Sleep was muddling minds and the storm that came at them stoked their confusion.
'Run or die!'
Hirad chased in, The Raven forming around him. The Unknown left, Darrick right.
'HardShield up,' said Denser.
Already some of their opponents were running for the opposite door but others faced them, one with the Black Wing tattoo. Hirad swung his sword right to left, clashing against an enemy blade, driving the man back. He rebalanced, jabbed forward – the blow turned aside – easily blocked the riposte then swept his blade up in a left to right diagonal, catching the man in the base of the gut. He fell back, entrails boiling from his stomach.
Next to Hirad The Unknown wasn't wasting as much time. His first strike crushed the ribs of his opponent and he stepped forward across the falling corpse, deflecting a blow with his dagger and driving his sword into the exposed midriff of the next man. Simultaneously, Aeb delivered a massive flat-bladed axe blow, catapulting his enemy from his feet to crash into the man behind.
The survivors wavered but the Black Wing brought them on. He snapped out a command for order and came at Hirad. He whipped in a quick jab which Hirad blocked, followed up with high strikes to either side of Hirad's head which the barbarian ducked and deflected respectively before being cut at the top of his sword arm. He swore.