The first strike

The air was thick with tension as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in the deepening shadows of twilight. Every step Jasmine took seemed heavier than the last, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared for what was coming. Tonight, everything will change. They had spent the day gathering what little they could—Garrick had given them weapons, armor, and supplies, enough to make a difference but not nearly enough to feel confident. The villagers had been wary, but a few had stepped forward, their faces etched with determination. They, too, had grown tired of living in fear.

Jasmine adjusted the belt around her waist, her fingers brushing the handle of the sword Garrick had given her. It was heavier than the dagger she had become accustomed to, the weight unfamiliar, but she knew she would need it soon. She glanced at Caden, who stood a few paces away, leaning against the wall of the small barn they had been using as a meeting place. His face was pale, and his wound was still causing him pain, but he was resolute, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"They'll be here soon," he said quietly, not turning to face her.

Jasmine nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. They had chosen this fight, but the reality of what was about to happen still sent shivers down her spine. The king's soldiers had been hunting them for weeks, and now they were close—too close. But this time, Jasmine wouldn't run. None of them would.

"They'll come from the south," Orin said, stepping into the clearing with Garrick at his side. "Scouts spotted them just past the ridge. We have a few hours, maybe less."

"Are we ready?" Jasmine asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Orin glanced around at the handful of villagers who had gathered, each one armed with whatever they could find—swords, axes, even a few hunting bows. "We're as ready as we're going to be," he said grimly. "We don't have the numbers to face them head-on, but we can use the terrain to our advantage. It'll be a guerilla fight."

Jasmine's stomach churned. The soldiers would come in force, trained and disciplined. Their group, on the other hand, was small and untested. But they had the element of surprise, and they had something the soldiers didn't—desperation. Every person standing with them had something to lose, and that gave them a fire the soldiers couldn't match.

"What's the plan?" Caden asked, his voice low but firm.

Orin crouched down, drawing a rough map in the dirt with a stick. "We'll split into two groups," he explained. "One will take position on the ridge, ready to strike when the soldiers enter the valley. The other will stay here in the village, drawing them in. Once they're inside, we hit them hard, then retreat into the forest."

Jasmine's brow furrowed as she studied the plan. It was simple, but it was all they had. "What about the villagers? The ones who aren't fighting?"

"They're hiding in the caves to the north," Garrick said. "We'll keep them safe. If we fail, they'll have enough time to escape."

Jasmine felt a flicker of relief at that, but it was quickly swallowed by the weight of what lay ahead. They were outnumbered, outmatched, and if they failed, the village would be razed to the ground.

"We won't fail," she whispered to herself, gripping the hilt of her sword tighter.

Caden straightened, wincing slightly as he moved. "I'll stay with the group in the village," he said. "Jasmine, you take the ridge with Orin."

Jasmine's heart clenched at the thought of being separated from him, especially now, when everything was on the line. But she knew he was right. He needed to stay where he could coordinate the defense, and she could move faster, strike harder from the ridge.

"Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Caden gave her a tight smile. "You too."

The moment passed between them, brief but filled with everything they didn't have time to say. Then, without another word, they turned to their respective groups, preparing for the coming storm.

The ridge was cold and quiet as Jasmine crouched behind a cluster of rocks, her breath visible in the chill night air. Orin was beside her, his sharp eyes fixed on the valley below, where the flicker of torches was beginning to appear in the distance. The soldiers were coming.

"We'll wait until they're fully inside the valley," Orin murmured. "Then we strike. Quick and quiet. Don't let them see you until it's too late."

Jasmine nodded, her heart racing. She could hear the sound of footsteps now, the clanking of armor and the low murmur of voices as the soldiers approached. Her grip tightened on her sword, her pulse pounding in her ears.

The torches moved closer, the soldiers' silhouettes becoming clearer as they entered the valley. There were more of them than she had expected, at least twenty, maybe more. Each one heavily armed, their faces hard and focused. The leader, a man in dark armor, walked at the front, his sword drawn.

Jasmine's breath caught in her throat. This was it. The first strike.

Orin raised his hand, signaling the others to hold. They couldn't attack too soon—the soldiers needed to be fully committed before they made their move. Jasmine's muscles tensed, every fiber of her being poised for action.

Then, with a swift motion, Orin dropped his hand.

"Now," he whispered.

Jasmine sprang into action, her feet moving before she could think. She darted down the slope of the ridge, her sword raised, her heart pounding in her chest. The soldiers didn't see her until it was too late. She struck the first one from behind, her blade slicing through his armor with a sickening crunch. He fell to the ground with a grunt, his torch sputtering out as his body hit the dirt.

Chaos erupted around them. Orin and the others descended from the ridge, striking fast and hard. The soldiers were caught off guard, but they quickly rallied, drawing their weapons and shouting orders. Jasmine ducked under the swing of a sword, her movements swift and precise. She wasn't a trained fighter, but adrenaline and desperation fueled her, driving her forward.

The valley became a whirlwind of clashing steel, shouts, and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground. Jasmine fought with everything she had, her mind focused only on survival, on winning this first battle.

As she parried a blow from one of the soldiers, she caught a glimpse of Caden in the village below. He was fighting too, his movements slower than usual but still lethal. The sight of him spurred her on, giving her the strength to keep going.

They had struck first, but the battle was far from over.

And they weren't done fighting yet.