Chapter 14: The Storm Breaks

Chapter 14: The Storm Breaks

The air was thick with tension as Kael and his soldiers marched through the dense forest, the sounds of their movements muffled by the damp earth beneath their boots. The men were silent, their faces grim and their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. Kael rode at the front, his injured arm bound tightly beneath his cloak. Though his body ached from the previous battles, his focus was unyielding.

Ahead of them lay the mercenaries' camp—a cluster of tents hidden deep within the woods, where Lord Darius's hired blades were preparing their next move. Kael knew they couldn't afford to wait. Striking first was their only option.

Back at the estate, Amara stood at the gates, watching the last of the soldiers disappear into the tree line. Her chest felt tight as worry churned in her stomach. Kael had left her in charge of the estate's defenses, trusting her to hold things together in his absence. She had promised herself she wouldn't let him down, but the weight of that responsibility threatened to crush her.

Celia appeared at her side, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

Amara nodded, her voice quiet. "I just hope they make it back."

Celia smirked faintly, trying to lighten the mood. "If anyone can survive a fight with a horde of mercenaries, it's your husband."

Amara's lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "And if they don't?"

Celia hesitated, then placed a hand on Amara's shoulder. "Then we do what we must to survive. But for now, focus on what's in front of you."

Kael's forces reached the edge of the mercenaries' camp just as dusk began to fall. The camp was larger than expected, with fires burning in several places and guards stationed along its perimeter. Kael signaled for his men to halt, his sharp eyes studying the layout.

"They're better prepared than I thought," he muttered to Reynold, his lieutenant. "But they're spread thin. We can use that."

Reynold nodded. "What's the plan?"

"We divide their attention," Kael said, his voice low but commanding. "Archers will set fire to the tents on the eastern side. That'll force them to shift their focus. Once they do, we strike from the west."

The men moved into position with practiced efficiency, their steps quiet as they disappeared into the shadows. Kael waited until he saw the first flames flicker in the distance before giving the signal to attack.

The ambush was swift and brutal. Arrows flew through the air, striking down guards before they could sound the alarm. Kael led the charge from the west, his sword flashing as he cut through the mercenaries with precision. The camp descended into chaos as the mercenaries scrambled to defend themselves, their cohesion shattered by the surprise assault.

But it wasn't without cost. The mercenaries were well-trained, and they fought back fiercely. Kael found himself locked in a vicious duel with a towering man wielding a massive axe. Each swing forced Kael to move faster, his muscles screaming in protest.

"You'll regret coming here, Vyren," the mercenary growled, his voice rough and taunting.

Kael smirked, despite the sweat dripping down his brow. "I doubt that."

With a final, calculated strike, Kael dodged the axe and drove his sword into the man's chest. The mercenary collapsed with a grunt, and Kael turned his attention back to the battle. His men were gaining the upper hand, but the fight was far from over.

Back at the estate, Amara's evening had taken an unexpected turn. A small group of mercenaries, likely sent as a distraction or sabotage team, had infiltrated the grounds. The first warning came when a servant burst into the dining hall, shouting that armed men had been spotted near the storage sheds.

Amara didn't hesitate. She gathered the remaining guards and servants, quickly organizing them into a defense. "We can't let them sabotage the supplies," she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her. "If they get past us, the entire estate is at risk."

The mercenaries attacked swiftly, but Amara's leadership held the defenders together. Armed with whatever they could find—pitchforks, knives, even broken tools—the staff and guards fought back. Amara stayed at the center of the chaos, directing their efforts and refusing to retreat.

Celia appeared at her side, wielding a heavy iron skillet with surprising skill. "You've got more fight in you than I thought, my lady," she said, swinging the skillet at a mercenary who got too close.

Amara managed a breathless laugh. "Let's hope it's enough."

The skirmish was short but intense. By the time it ended, the mercenaries lay subdued or dead, and the estate stood intact. Amara sank to her knees in the dirt, her chest heaving as the adrenaline drained from her.

"You did it," Celia said, crouching beside her. "We held them off."

Amara nodded, her hands trembling. "But for how long?"

Kael's forces emerged victorious, though the battle had left its mark. The camp lay in ruins, the remaining mercenaries either fleeing or captured. Kael stood among the wreckage, his sword dripping with blood, his injured arm throbbing.

As Reynold approached with a captured mercenary, Kael's gaze sharpened. "Talk," he ordered, his voice cold. "Who hired you? What's Darius's endgame?"

The mercenary hesitated, but a glare from Reynold loosened his tongue. "It's not just Darius," he spat. "He's working with the Black Talons, and they've got bigger plans than this. They're coming for the estate—soon."

Kael's stomach churned. He turned to his men. "Secure the area. We leave at first light."

---

When Kael returned to the estate, battered but alive, Amara was there to meet him. Relief flooded her face as she saw him dismount, but her expression turned serious as he approached.

"We had an attack here too," she said, her voice steady but strained. "A small group, but they were coordinated."

Kael's jaw tightened. "It's only the beginning."

Amara frowned, worry flickering in her eyes. "What do we do now?"

Kael looked at her, his expression grim but resolute. "We prepare. Whatever's coming, we'll face it together."

But as he spoke, the faint sound of a horn echoed from the forest, a chilling reminder that the battle was far from over.