Chapter 12: The Enemy Camp

Kael's chest tightened as he ducked low behind a jagged outcrop of rock, the sharp edge biting into his palms as he steadied himself. Below, the Kavaran camp sprawled across the ravine like a beast coiled to strike. Soldiers moved with precision, their crimson armor glinting in the dying sunlight as orders were barked and weapons were stacked. The scent of smoke and oil hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of fear that Kael couldn't shake. Every breath felt too loud, every scrape of his boot against stone a potential betrayal.

He shifted his weight carefully, peering over the rocks. Talar crouched ahead, his sharp eyes fixed on the scene below, his grip on his staff unyielding. Kael followed his father's gaze to the center of the camp, where a large wagon stood flanked by soldiers. Crates marked with the Kavaran empire's sigil were being unloaded, their contents gleaming ominously in the fading light.

"Weapons," Talar murmured, his voice so low it barely carried over the faint desert wind. "Enough to arm an entire battalion."

Kael swallowed hard, his stomach twisting.

"They're preparing for more than defense," Marek said from behind, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of tension. "This isn't a patrol. This is a staging ground."

Talar nodded grimly, his jaw tight. "And if they're here, they're too close. We can't let them advance any further."

"What's the plan?" Jek, a wiry warrior from the Dust Walkers, whispered. His gaze was locked on the camp, his body tense and coiled like a spring.

Talar motioned for the group to huddle closer. The warriors crept toward him in silence, their faces illuminated by the last light of the sinking sun.

"We'll split into two teams," Talar said quietly, his tone firm. "One will create a diversion, draw their forces to the southern edge of the camp. The other will strike from the north and target the weapons cache. We destroy their supplies, disrupt their operation, and retreat before reinforcements arrive."

Kael's heart pounded as he listened. The plan made sense, but the weight of it pressed heavily on his chest. This wasn't like the hunt. These weren't beasts; they were trained soldiers, and a single misstep could cost lives.

"You'll lead the northern strike," Talar said, locking eyes with Kael.

Kael froze. "Me?"

"Yes," Talar said firmly. "You've trained for this. You know the terrain, and I trust you."

The words hit Kael like a blow. Trust. His father's faith in him felt like both a lifeline and a burden.

Marek's voice slid into the silence, smooth and cutting. "Are you sure that's wise, brother? Kael's... enthusiasm has caused issues before. Perhaps it's better if I lead the northern strike."

Kael's jaw tightened, his grip on his spear firming. He met Marek's gaze, noting the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his uncle's mouth.

"I can do this," Kael said, his voice steadier than he felt.

Marek tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Of course you can."

"Enough," Talar said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension. "The decision is made. Kael will lead the strike."

Kael nodded, though his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his grip on his spear.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the patrol was in position. The desert was bathed in twilight, the air cool and heavy. The southern team moved wide, their shadows long against the sand as they prepared to create the diversion.

Kael's group crept along the northern edge of the ravine, sticking close to the jagged rocks for cover. The camp loomed ahead, its fires casting eerie flickers of light across the crimson tents.

Kael's breath came shallow, his nerves on edge with every step. He could feel the weight of the warriors' eyes on him, their silence filled with expectation.

Ahead, the wagon stood ominously close, its crates stacked high and unguarded for the moment. Kael crouched low, signaling for his team to stop.

"Wait for the signal," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The plan hinged on the southern team's fire. Once the soldiers were distracted, Kael's group would move in to destroy the weapons. It was simple enough, but the simplicity did little to calm Kael's racing thoughts.

The first shouts came moments later, followed by the crackling roar of flames. Smoke billowed into the sky from the southern edge of the camp, and Kael peeked over the rocks, his heart racing. Soldiers were rushing toward the fire, their movements sharp and coordinated.

"This is it," Kael said, turning to his team. "Stay low, move fast, and don't engage unless absolutely necessary."

The warriors nodded, their expressions set.

Kael led the charge, his movements careful and deliberate. His heart thundered in his chest as they slipped closer to the wagon, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him with every step.

They reached the wagon without incident, and Kael motioned for the others to fan out. Jek and Lirien, a young Ember warrior, moved swiftly to pry open the crates, their hands working with practiced efficiency.

Kael stood guard, his spear held tightly as he scanned the camp for movement. The diversion had worked—most of the soldiers were occupied with the fire—but Kael couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong.

"Almost there," Jek muttered, his voice low but tense.

Kael nodded, his grip tightening on his spear. "Be quick."

The first crate burst into flames, the fire consuming its contents with a loud roar. The acrid scent of burning wood and metal filled the air, stinging Kael's nose.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement.

"Kael," Jek hissed, his voice sharp.

Kael turned, his stomach lurching as a group of soldiers emerged from the shadows, their weapons drawn and their expressions hard.

"They've seen us," Jek said, his voice taut with urgency.

Kael's mind raced, panic threatening to take hold. But then Talar's words echoed in his mind: Stay sharp. Stay focused.

Kael gritted his teeth, forcing himself to think. "Keep burning the supplies," he said firmly. "I'll hold them off."

"Kael, you can't—" Jek began.

"Do it!" Kael snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

The soldiers advanced, their footsteps heavy against the sand. Kael took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he stepped forward to meet them.

Behind him, flames rose higher, the crackle of burning crates mingling with the shouts of approaching soldiers. Kael tightened his grip on his spear, his muscles coiled as the first soldier lunged toward him.

"Now, Kael!" Talar's voice rang out, clear and commanding.

Kael surged forward, his spear aimed true.