From a distance, the group might have seemed like they were wandering aimlessly through the dark expanse of the desert, with no clear purpose.
The moon shone at their backs, providing slight clarity.
'There's blood spatter here,' Siegmun observed, pointing to a stained patch in the sand.
Aikan's face lit up. 'We're still on the right track.'
'Good work, Riniock,' Balidor praised. 'I can feel we're getting close –'
Riniock suddenly halted, bringing the entire group to a stop. Those behind him stumbled slightly, caught off guard by the abrupt pause.
'What is it?' Siegmun asked.
'I lost focus for a second,' Riniock muttered. 'You lot wouldn't stop talking.'
A few of them looked away, mildly embarrassed.
Regaining his concentration, Riniock pressed on, and the others followed. They covered a good distance before he finally came to a stop again.
'There,' he said, pointing towards a rocky formation.
'The rock?' one of the acolytes asked, perplexed.
'Behind it.' He gestured at the edge of the tallest spire. 'Look closely – you can just barely see smoke rising.'
'A camp!'
Siegmun stepped forward, his expression sharpening. 'If we move strategically, we can pull this off. First, we'll assess their numbers and scout the area. We can't afford to walk into their camp at a disadvantage.'
They nodded, drawing in closer to hear the plan.
'We'll split into pairs,' Siegmun began. 'Hadfarr and I will circle the camp and infiltrate from the north. Aikan and Ulred, you'll approach from the east. Balidor and Lodras –'
'Left side, west. Got it!' Balidor interjected.
Riniock leaned forward slightly. 'And me?' he asked, eager to be included.
'You'll climb the rock formation and scout from the vantage point. Provide support from long range,' Siegmun instructed. 'More importantly, you'll be our signal. Once we're all in position, you'll give the cue to begin.'
Riniock gave a firm nod. It wasn't surprising that he was assigned the safest role, given his limited field experience.
But this was his chance to prove his worth.
If there was one thing Riniock excelled at, it was long-range spellcasting. From his vantage point, he would have the only complete view of the battlefield, making his support crucial to the survival of the raiding pairs.
Scaling the tallest spire was no easy feat. It took time, and every muscle in his body protested the effort. Outside of his training at Mesyo Mahas, physical exertion had never been his strong suit. Without the aid of magick, the climb drained him completely.
But eventually, he reached the top.
Catching his breath, Riniock began assessing the area.
To his right, Aikan and Ulred moved in the shadows, slipping between tents. On the left, Balidor and Lodras crouched behind a stack of crates, exchanging glances as they scanned their surroundings. Directly ahead, Siegmun and Hadfarr were already at work, their small figures barely visible as they took down a lone sentry who had wandered outside the camp to relieve himself.
With his allies' positions confirmed, Riniock turned his attention to the camp's occupants. Their beige robes were unmistakable – the same worn by acolytes of the academy.
He began counting.
Including the one just taken down, fourteen maegis occupied the encampment. Some were asleep, others gathered around a fire, drinking and talking, whilst the rest patrolled the perimeter.
'Good. The elantreas are caged. One less problem to worry about.'
Riniock's gaze settled on one particular elantrea. His dagger was still lodged in its leg, but an Ikshari maegi had just noticed it. The man pulled it free, inspecting the weapon before giving it a few test swings. Then, without much thought, he walked away from the cage, dagger in hand.
Riniock didn't let that distract him.
Even from a distance, his companions could still see him clearly. With a precise sequence of gestures, he gave the signal.
It began.
Balidor struck first, taking his target by surprise. But Lodras faltered – his attack failed, and his opponent immediately cried out for help. The camp erupted into chaos as the Iksharis converged on their location. Lodras and his foe locked into a frantic struggle, grappling at close quarters.
Then they broke apart.
The Ikshari stumbled back and turned, hands glowing with a fire spell. But before he could release it, a razor-sharp gust of wind slammed him into the side of a tent.
Balidor was already moving. He caught up, conjuring a blaze that engulfed both the Ikshari and the canvas in a roaring inferno.
'Watch yourself,' Riniock muttered, already taking aim.
Another target – this time, a compact spear of wind tore through his chest. Aikan wasted no time, finishing the job with a spell of his own.
The battle escalated.
What was meant to be a stealth operation turned into an all-out clash of magick. Spells of every element and hue streaked through the night like chaotic fireworks.
Riniock provided cover from above. He destabilised moving targets, giving his allies the chance to land killing blows. And when an enemy remained still long enough – he struck to kill.
'RINIOCK!' Ulred's voice rang out over the battlefield. 'Stop him! Stop that guy!'
Riniock's eyes snapped to the commotion. It was the same Ikshari who had tended to the elantreas earlier, now sprinting in the direction of the cages.
Riniock fired off a spell, but the man dodged – whether by skill or sheer luck, it didn't matter. He was closing in.
Frustration burned through Riniock. The Ikshari reached the first cage, his hand already gripping the bars. Then something caught Riniock's eye – the glint of his dagger still in his grasp.
Without thinking, Riniock thrust his hands forward. The blade wrenched free from the man's grip, whirling midair. And in one fluid motion, it slashed across his throat before he could release the beasts.
The outcome of the battle became evident in moments.
With their overwhelming advantage – and Riniock covering them from above – the camp's defenders fell one after another. Only three remained, making a desperate final stand.
They had taken cover behind a stack of bricks.
Spells flew in all directions, lighting up the night in bursts of fire and crackling energy. Despite being outnumbered, the last three held their ground, their defensive position making it difficult for Riniock to land a clean shot. Unless he timed his strike perfectly, his support was useless.
Riniock thought fast.
Locating his dagger once more, he lifted it into the air, guiding it towards the huddled enemies. They were too preoccupied with their frantic spellcasting to notice the weapon hovering just inches away.
With a flick of his wrist, Riniock twisted the blade in the air – then drove it straight into the skull of the nearest man.
The Ikshari convulsed, his body jerking involuntarily before crumpling to the ground.
One of his remaining allies gasped in horror. In his panic, he shot to his feet – forgetting his surroundings.
That was all the opening Hadfarr needed.
An explosive sphere struck the man's head, detonating on impact. His headless body slumped, smoke curling from the scorched remnants.
The last survivor was already trembling.
With wide eyes, he threw up his hands. 'I yield!' he cried, voice cracking. 'Please, I yield!'
But surrender didn't stop Riniock from taking his shot.
A sharp gust of wind slammed the man against a nearby wall, pinning him in place. The others rushed forward, restraining him with a containment spell.
Siegmun exhaled, surveying the battlefield. 'Good job, everyone! That…wasn't exactly how I planned it, but no one's hurt, right?'
'I'm fine!'
'Same here…'
'Not a scratch.'
'Untouched.'
Lodras inspected himself. 'Just a flesh wound,'
Someone glanced up towards the rocky spire. 'Riniock! You good, mate?'
Riniock held up two thumbs. 'All good.'
'Then,' Siegmun continued, his expression darkening as he turned to their captive. A menacing glint flickered in his eyes. 'Let's see what we can squeeze out of you.'