Arcane Fang

## 6. Through Enemy Lines ### 6.1. Closing In The swamp's dense mist clung to the air, muting every sound and cloaking the world in an oppressive stillness. Calwyn and Vera moved with deliberate care, their steps muffled by the thick moss and wet earth beneath their boots. The usual hum of life-the croaking of frogs, the drone of insects-was absent, leaving only the soft rustle of the wind through the twisted branches above. "This is too quiet," Vera muttered, her golden eyes scanning the undergrowth. Her spear was slung across her back, but her hand hovered close to its hilt, ready for action. Calwyn nodded, his amber gaze fixed on the faint trail ahead. "They're near. The holding site isn't far now." For hours they had followed signs of human activity: broken branches, scuffed footprints in the mud, and the faint remnants of campfires long since abandoned. Each clue brought them closer to their goal-and deeper into enemy territory. "Do you really think we'll find her?" Vera asked, her voice soft but tinged with uncertainty. "We will," Calwyn replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "But we'll have to stay sharp. If they spot us, this ends before it begins." Vera's jaw tightened, and she nodded, though the tension in her posture didn't ease. "Then let's make sure they don't." ### 6.2. The Ambush They crept forward, weaving through the gnarled roots and thick underbrush, until voices carried through the mist. Calwyn raised a hand, signaling Vera to stop. They crouched low, their breaths shallow, as the faint glow of a fire flickered through the trees ahead. A patrol. Six soldiers sat around a smoldering campfire, their weapons leaning against nearby logs. They spoke in low voices, their laughter carrying faintly on the stagnant air. From their position, Calwyn and Vera could hear snippets of conversation. "Shipment's due tomorrow," one soldier said, poking at the embers with a stick. "The beast woman's been causing trouble again. You'd think she'd give up by now." The words struck Vera like a blow, her sharp inhale betraying her emotions. Calwyn placed a steadying hand on her arm, his touch firm but gentle. "Focus," he whispered. "We'll get her." She nodded tightly, her golden eyes blazing with anger. Another soldier chuckled, his voice dripping with disdain. "Commander says she'll be useful. Don't know how, but it's not our place to ask questions." Vera's claws flexed against the spear's shaft, but she stayed silent. Calwyn motioned for her to circle around, gesturing with two fingers to indicate the approach. She moved without hesitation, her steps silent as she melted into the shadows. Calwyn nocked an arrow, his breath steady as he waited for her signal. Moments later, a faint rustle came from the far side of the clearing. The soldiers' heads turned toward the noise, their laughter faltering. "What was that?" one of them muttered, reaching for his sword. Calwyn didn't hesitate. His arrow flew through the air, striking the nearest soldier in the chest with a muffled thud. The man collapsed, his weapon clattering to the ground. Before the others could react, Vera darted from the shadows, her spear piercing the throat of the second soldier. The camp erupted into chaos. The remaining guards scrambled for their weapons, their shouts cutting through the swamp's stillness. Calwyn loosed another arrow, striking a third soldier in the leg. The man fell with a cry, his sword slipping from his grasp. Vera moved with deadly precision, her spear flashing as she parried a clumsy attack and countered with a sharp thrust. Blood sprayed against the damp earth as her opponent crumpled. Calwyn drew his knife as the last two soldiers charged. He sidestepped the first, slashing across the man's arm and sending him stumbling. The second lunged, but Vera intercepted him with a well-placed strike, her spear driving into his chest. The final soldier, bleeding and panicked, dropped his weapon and raised his hands. "Wait! I surrender!" Vera advanced, her spear poised, but Calwyn stepped in front of her. "We need information," he said, his voice calm but firm. He turned to the soldier. "Where is she? The beast woman. Where are they holding her?" The soldier hesitated, his gaze darting between the two of them. "The holding site," he stammered. "North of here, just past the ridge. She's alive, but heavily guarded. You'll never make it in." "We'll see about that," Vera growled. Calwyn nodded to her, stepping aside. Her spear struck true, silencing the man before he could cry out. ### 6.3. Clearing the Camp As the fire smoldered, Calwyn and Vera moved with quiet urgency, their breaths steady despite the tension lingering in the air. The bodies of the fallen soldiers lay scattered, and Calwyn crouched beside one, inspecting the man's belongings with practiced efficiency. They couldn't afford to leave anything useful behind-or any trace of their presence. Calwyn crouched by the fallen, retrieving his arrows with quick, practiced motions. The shafts were intact, though a few needed cleaning and sharpening before they could be used again. "We'll need to hide the bodies," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "If a patrol comes through and finds them, we'll lose what little time we have." Vera nodded, already dragging one of the soldiers toward a nearby patch of dense undergrowth. "The swamp will take care of them," she muttered, her voice flat. "It always does." Together, they worked quickly, hauling the bodies into the mire where the muck and foliage would obscure them from view. The swamp, with its hungry soil and creeping vegetation, would swallow the evidence within days. Once the bodies were hidden, they turned their attention to the soldiers' gear. Calwyn laid out everything they'd scavenged: a few rations, a length of sturdy rope, a pouch of coins, a short sword with a worn hilt and a leather sheath, and a map. His fingers paused as he unfolded the map, scanning its surface with sharp, deliberate focus. It was marked with key locations, including the holding site they were looking for. Vera picked up the short sword, testing its balance. "Not great," he muttered, "but it'll do. Looks like they didn't expect to need much out here." "Here," he said, tapping a spot north of their current position. "That's where they've got her." Vera didn't respond immediately. Her golden eyes were fixed on something she had pulled from one of the soldiers' packs-a scrap of fabric, worn and frayed but unmistakable. Her breath hitched. "This is hers," she whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "From her shawl." Calwyn glanced at the cloth, his gaze softening. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his touch firm yet gentle. "We're close," he said, his tone resolute. "We'll get her back." For a moment, she didn't respond. Her claws tightened around the fabric, her body rigid with emotion. Calwyn placed a hand on her arm, a gentle, steadying touch. The warmth of it cut through her turmoil, grounding her. She blinked, her golden eyes softening for just a moment as she shifted her focus to him. Her heightened senses caught his scent more distinctly now-layered and complex, yet somehow reassuring, almost familiar. It was unlike anything she had encountered before, carrying an unexpected sense of safety amidst the chaos. Then she nodded, her golden eyes burning with determination. "We'll get her back," she said, her voice steady and resolute. They continued their search, sifting through the soldiers' belongings and the remnants of the small camp. Vera found several lengths of twine, she kept some and gave the rest to Calwyn. "You can use them as replacement for the bow, or with the arrows." He nodded. As the camp yielded its final secrets, Calwyn sat back on his heels, surveying their haul. "Not much," he admitted, his voice low. "But it'll have to do." "We've made do with less," Vera replied, her tone steadier now, though the edge of anger still lingered. Calwyn nodded, his gaze shifting to the darkened swamp around them. The fire had burned low, casting long shadows that flickered and danced across the trees. The camp was as clear as they could make it, but the weight of the journey ahead pressed heavily on them both. "Let's move," Calwyn said, rolling the map carefully and tucking it into his pack. "We've got what we need, and we can't afford to linger." Vera hesitated for just a moment, her eyes lingering on the patch of ground where the cloth had been found. Then, with a sharp exhale, she stood and slung her spear across her back. "Let's go." The swamp seemed to close in around them as they slipped away, leaving the smoldering remains of the camp behind. Their steps were purposeful, their resolve unshaken. The holding site awaited, and with it, the fight for everything Vera held dear. ### 6.4. Shadows at the Gate The holding site loomed ahead, its jagged wooden palisades visible through the mist. Torches lined the perimeter, their flickering light casting eerie shadows across the swamp floor. Guards patrolled the entrance, their movements methodical and alert.  Calwyn and Vera crouched behind a cluster of trees, their eyes fixed on the structure. "No easy way in," Calwyn muttered, his mind already working through the possibilities. "We'll find one," Vera said, her voice firm. "We have to." Calwyn nodded, his amber gaze unwavering. "Then let's get to work." Together, they disappeared into the shadows, the weight of their mission pressing down on them like the stillness of the swamp. --- They retreated deeper into the swamp, out of sight of the holding site, and settled beneath the shelter of a dense canopy. Calwyn carefully inspected the arrows in his quiver, turning each one over in his hands. The swamp's dampness had softened some of the shafts, and he grimaced as he set aside those that were too warped to fly straight. "We can't afford to waste any," he muttered. Vera sat nearby, sharpening the edge of her short sword with steady, deliberate strokes. She had split a piece of sturdy wood and carved grooves to hold the blade snugly. Securing it with twine, she fashioned a crude but effective scabbard tied to her belt. Her focus was intense, her golden eyes flicking occasionally toward the direction of the holding site. "How many guards do you think are inside?" she asked. She glanced at the spear leaning against a nearby rock and added, almost to herself, "I'll keep the spear as a backup. Never hurts to have options." Then, she secured her spear against her back using the strap. "At least two at the gate, plus patrols, from what I've seen" Calwyn replied, his tone thoughtful. "If we try to go straight in, we'll be overwhelmed before we reach the walls." "Then we don't go straight in," Vera said, her voice firm. "We pull some of them out. Quietly." Calwyn nodded, his lips curling into a faint, grim smile. "A distraction, then. Something to make them send a few guards to investigate." He reached into his pack and pulled out the rope they'd scavenged earlier. With practiced hands, he began fashioning a snare, testing its tension against a nearby branch. After that he sat down, his hands already busy with the bundle of iron arrowheads they had acquired from the trader. He set his remaining shafts before him, working methodically to attach the arrowheads with lengths of twine from his pack. The light gleamed faintly off the iron as he tightened each binding, his fingers testing the weight and balance of every arrow. Satisfied, he placed the finished arrows in his quiver, the faint sound of the shafts settling breaking the silence between them. "If we can take out a patrol-or even just one or two guards-without raising an alarm, it'll make slipping inside easier," he said, pulling a small blade from his pack to shave down a few arrowheads that had dulled Vera's ears twitched as she leaned closer, watching his hands work with quiet fascination. "How do you plan to lure them out?" "Noise," Calwyn said simply. "Something out of place, like the sound of movement or a faint light in the distance. The swamp's quiet enough that it'll catch their attention." She nodded, rising to her feet and testing the weight of her sword. "I'll be ready. But we'll have to act fast once they come out. If they suspect anything, they'll sound the alarm." "Then we don't give them the chance," Calwyn said, setting the finished snare aside and standing. He retrieved his bow, testing its tension and adjusting the string. "You take the first one. I'll cover you." The plan was set. They exchanged a final glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Their survival depended on precision, silence, and trust. The swamp's stillness enveloped them as they moved toward the holding site once more, ready to face whatever lay ahead. --- The swamp was a silent accomplice as Calwyn and Vera melted into the shadows, their movements muffled by the damp earth beneath their feet. The flickering torches of the holding site outlined the guards near the gate-two figures pacing methodically, their armor faintly glinting in the firelight. Calwyn motioned to Vera, his hand signaling for silence. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small stone. With practiced precision, he hurled it into the dense underbrush to the right of the gate. The faint rustle of leaves and a splash in the water caught the guards' attention. "What was that?" one of them muttered, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. "Probably nothing," the other replied, though his tone wavered. "Go check it out," the first guard ordered, motioning toward the swamp. Reluctantly, the second guard moved toward the source of the sound, his steps hesitant. Vera slipped through the darkness, her lithe form blending seamlessly with the undergrowth. As the second guard ventured further into the swamp, his lantern casting faint shadows across the trees. In one fluid motion, she drew her short sword, its edge glinting faintly in the dim light. Calwyn flanked the other side, his bow drawn, an arrow nocked and ready. "See anything?" the first guard called, his voice carrying through the still air. The second guard didn't have a chance to answer. Vera struck with swift precision, her blade sliding between his ribs in a silent, lethal blow. She caught his body before it could fall, lowering it into the soft mud with care. The swamp seemed to swallow the sound, leaving only the faint ripple of disturbed water. The first guard, growing impatient, stepped toward the edge of the swamp. "What's taking so long?" he grumbled, squinting into the darkness. Calwyn's arrow flew with deadly accuracy, striking the guard in the chest. He staggered, his hand clutching at the shaft before crumpling to the ground. Calwyn moved swiftly, retrieving the arrow and dragging the body deeper into the shadows. With the gate guards neutralized, they turned their attention to the campfire. Two guards sat nearby, their laughter echoing faintly in the still air. One of them nursed a flask, its contents gleaming in the firelight. Calwyn and Vera exchanged a quick glance. This time, there would be no distractions-only precision. Calwyn crept closer, his bow ready, while Vera moved wide to flank them. The first guard barely had time to react as Calwyn's arrow pierced his throat. He fell forward into the fire, the flames flaring briefly as his body collapsed. The second guard jumped to his feet, his hand going to his weapon, but Vera was faster. Her blade struck true, silencing him before he could shout. The campfire crackled, the swamp once again falling into an uneasy stillness. --- The faint glow of the campfire had barely faded when Calwyn and Vera's attention turned to the small cluster of tents near the edge of the holding site. Shadows flickered within, indicating the presence of more guards. Four, by Calwyn's count. "We'll need to be faster this time," he whispered, his amber eyes scanning the tents. "No distractions." Vera nodded, her grip tightening on her blade. "I'll take the first two," she murmured. "You cover me." Calwyn positioned himself with a clear line of sight, bow at the ready. Vera moved silently, slipping into the shadows near the first tent. Her blade flashed in the dim light as she cut through the tent fabric, slipping inside like a wraith. A muffled gasp and the soft thud of a body hitting the ground were the only sounds as she dispatched the first guard. The second guard stirred, his instincts sharper, but Vera was already on him. She clamped a hand over his mouth, driving her blade into his chest with precision. His body went limp as she eased him onto the floor. Calwyn's sharp whistle signaled her to hold. One of the remaining guards had emerged from a neighboring tent, his eyes scanning the darkness. Calwyn loosed an arrow, the shaft embedding itself in the man's chest before he could raise the alarm. He slumped to the ground, his weapon clattering uselessly at his side. The last guard darted out, panic etched on his face. He made it only a few steps before Vera intercepted him, her blade silencing him with ruthless efficiency. ### 6.5. Preparations before dungeon delving The swamp settled once more, its oppressive silence returning as Calwyn and Vera surveyed their grim work. Vera crouched beside the fallen guards, rifling through their belongings with practiced efficiency while Calwyn stood watch, his bow still in hand. "They weren't carrying much," she muttered, pulling items from the guards' pockets and packs. "A couple of daggers, a flask of oil, and this." She held up a rusty iron key, its surface pitted but intact. Calwyn nodded. "Could be for the ruins-or the dungeon inside the holding site." Vera stuffed the key into her satchel, continuing her search. "Here's something else." She held up a bundle of old papers, their edges curled and damp. Maps and notes scrawled with crude handwriting covered the pages, detailing patrol routes and a crude sketch of the ruins' interior. "This might give us an edge," she said, folding the papers and tucking them away. "Anything on your side?" Calwyn glanced at the fallen guards near the fire, spotting a short sword with its scabbard, both in surprisingly good condition. He hefted it experimentally before securing the scabbard to his belt at his hip, angling it for a cross-draw. "Ok, this is better than relying on an old knife." As they prepared to move, Calwyn crouched near his pack, his hand brushing against the small pouch containing the bird feathers he'd collected earlier. His amber eyes flicked to the arrowheads they had traded for back at the swamp trader's post. A thought struck him, and he looked up at Vera. "Hold on," he said. "We've got some time before we continue. Let me make a few more arrows. Running out in the middle of a fight won't end well. I almost did against the Hollowcreeps." Vera nodded, leaning back against a nearby log as she inspected the newly found key and maps. "Make it quick. I don't want to be here if another patrol comes through." Calwyn took out the bundle of wild bird feathers and the traded arrowheads, along with several sturdy sticks he had kept for this purpose. Working with precision born from practice, he carefully shaved the shafts of the sticks using his knife, smoothing them to ensure a straight and aerodynamic flight. The torchlight reflected off the blade as he worked, the rhythmic scraping sound breaking the silence. Once the shafts were prepared, he secured the arrowheads using twine from his pack, wrapping them tightly to ensure they wouldn't loosen during use. Finally, he notched the ends of the shafts and added fletching, using the feathers to stabilize the arrows in flight. Each feather was split and trimmed before being bound to the shaft with meticulous care. "Four," Calwyn replied without looking up, his focus sharp. "That'll give me ten total. Enough to make a difference if things get messy." He finished binding the final arrow and inspected each one, testing their weight and balance in his hand. Satisfied, he slid them into his quiver, the faint clinking sound of the arrowheads settling against each other. He stood, adjusting the strap of his pack and quiver with a slight sigh of satisfaction. "Done," he said, his tone calm but resolute. "Let's move." Vera pushed off from the log. "Good. Let's hope you don't have to use them all at once." --- With their gear secured, Calwyn and Vera paused near the edge of the camp to assess their finds. The map revealed a labyrinth of tunnels beneath the holding site, likely the remnants of the Primekin ruins. It also marked several key areas: a storage chamber, a holding cell, and an exit leading further into the swamp. "This key might save us some time," Vera said, holding it up. "If we're lucky." Calwyn's expression was grim. "And if we're not, we'll have to deal with more of those guards-or worse." Vera's ears flicked at the implication, but she didn't argue. "Then let's not waste time."