Chương 422: 417. The Compound - III

Tesyb stayed where he was. The light was nearly gone, and the persistent mist made the dark feel thicker. It wouldn't be long before it became impossible to see more than a few feet, if that. The heavy cloud cover and the mist had hidden the moon completely. Some time passed. Tesyb wasn't sure how long, but it was dark now. He could barely see people shifting around on roots and any dry ground they had found, trying to get comfortable without spreading out too much. The mud clung to everything anyway.

Then he saw movement again—shapes coming in from the direction the scout had gone. The scout had returned with another man. The newcomer moved like someone used to the woods, stepping around noisy branches, keeping his shoulders narrow through gaps. The captain and the ex-mercenary walked a little away from the other guards along with the two scouts towards a spot where the trees were denser. Tesyb's attention stayed on them. Curiosity pulled at him, and he pushed himself up off the root.

His boots made soft sucking sounds as they came free of the mud. He walked closer, careful with his steps. Part of him expected the captain to lift a hand and send him back. Instead, Feroy noticed him and made a small gesture for him to come in closer.

"You'll lead a team as well. Better if you listen up too." Tesyb stopped at the edge of their small group and nodded, keeping his mouth shut. The second scout lowered his hood. His face looked drawn from lack of sleep, and his beard was uneven, like he'd been cutting it with a knife, if that. The captain spoke first.

"Report." The new scout nodded.

"The bandits' compound is a walled enclosure, like we expected," he said quietly.

"Not a proper log palisade though—just branches lashed together. Complete all the way around—meant to keep beasts out at night, but not built for humans." Hudan's eyes stayed on the scout.

"How many are there?"

"We've counted 57 slaves in total," the scout said, "Men work in one of the clay pits all day. Women cook, haul water from a well, wash and patch clothes and so on. They keep 'em busy."

"And Torhan's guards?" Feroy asked." Bandits, you mean. Around twenty of 'em most days, but they come from and go to the north—likely their second base—or to take clay to Kirnos," the scout replied.

"The remaining supervise and watch the wall. They rotate too. Two left south with the wagons earlier today. That leaves eighteen of 'em inside right now, unless a group returns from the north or Kirnos in the morning." Tesyb kept his face still. He'd expected those numbers, but hearing them said out loud made it harder to treat the place as just another easy target. The scout continued.

"They've got a gate on the south side, wide enough for wagons. It's made of branches too, but thicker, reinforced with crosspieces. There's a watch platform near it. Not high like a real tower, but it gives 'em a view over the track going south, though they rarely keep a watch after nightfall. There's 'nother smaller gate in the north, from which the horsemen leave."

"Any patrols outside the wall?" Feroy asked.

"Not always, and then only in the daytime," the scout replied.

"Some days, a few men circle around the compound once in the evening after all the slaves have gone inside, but mostly they stay in after dark. They don't like going far from the compound or into the trees even in the day. They just send slaves out for work under guard. No one wanders alone." Hudan shifted his stance.

"Any sign of Torhan?" He tilted his head towards the earlier scout.

"He told us you hadn't seen him by the time he left to wait for us." The scout shook his head.

"Nope, he's not here. No idea where he's been. There's a tall guy who seems to be the in-charge here when Torhan's not present. The tall one comes and goes from the northern gate—he's out for a few days at a time. When he's here, the bandits tighten up. He arrived back this afternoon." Feroy's voice stayed even.

"And the other compound? Any changes to the usual schedule?" Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The scout lifted his chin slightly.

"The horsemen still move north every few days. Same as before. They use the other track. We couldn't follow them far enough to locate the second base without risking being seen—the forest gets denser up north—hard to follow without being noticed." Feroy went quiet for a moment, then looked between the two scouts.

"The other two?"

"They're still watching," the scout said.

"Up on a wide branch overlooking the compound east of the wall—nobody looks up in the forest, they'll never be spotted. They'll hold there until morning—I already handed over the food to 'em." Feroy nodded once.

"Good work. We'll talk more later with the other two, but this is enough for us to make some plans." The two scouts exchanged a look, then the second one spoke.

"Then we'll go and rest with the others tonight, and get some news 'bout home. We've been staying in this copse anyway. We'll switch with the other two tomorrow morning before daybreak." Feroy agreed with a short nod, then turned back toward the larger group. They walked back together. Feroy stopped where most of the guards could see him, and his voice carried just enough without being loud.

"Get good rest tonight," he said.

"Most likely we won't attack in the daytime tomorrow, unless it's a good opportunity. The attack will likely be sometime tomorrow evening or later. We'll use the day to make final plans. Rest well until then." Men nodded. A few murmured agreements. But no one cheered. No one joked. Tesyb sat again near the root he had claimed as his resting place for the night, his gear kept next to him. He looked across the group and saw tense faces in the fading light.

Apart from the two medics and Joric, twenty-eight men had come, and along with the four scouts, that made thirty-two well-trained and well-armed men. It was a strong force, enough to win most battles in this region against any enemies—apart from those damned mercenaries living in the south. Nobody wanted to mess with them. But nobody looked relaxed. They were going against a defended enclosure for the first time.

The wall was made of branches, not stone like in Cinran or even a palisade like Tiranat, but it was still a wall. And there were 18 bandits inside now, with the chance of more arriving from the other compound or from Kirnos by the time they attacked. The forest track made that possible, and Tesyb couldn't stop thinking about riders showing up at the worst time. The bandits could even arm the slaves against the guards, making their task much more difficult. Even so, there was a steadiness in the group.

Men checked straps and laid weapons where they could grab them. They ate, drank, and kept their voices low. They looked tired, but not uncertain. They knew this would be hard—there would be injuries, maybe even casualties, but there was a quiet confidence in their faces. It was for Tiranat. Their home. We can do it! We will do it! We will win... Tesyb lowered his head for a moment, breathing through his nose, smelling wet earth and damp cloth, and smiled.

He was confident too—he still remembered Savomi wishing him luck before he had left Tiranat—and that gave him belief in himself. I can do it! He just hoped the goddess would bless them with lots of luck for tomorrow anyway...

It was late afternoon the next day, and the waiting was starting to feel worse than the walking. Tesyb had been awake since before dawn, not because anyone had shaken him, but because the cold and the damp made sleep thin and broken. The copse had hidden them well enough, but it wasn't a place meant for rest. Every time he shifted, mud tugged at his boots. Every time a branch creaked, his eyes opened. Even with a full night down, he didn't feel fully rested. Still, the long march was behind them.

Most of the men looked better than they had yesterday evening. Faces were less drawn. Shoulders sat higher. There hadn't been rain since the day before, and the ground had dried a little on top, though it was still soft underneath. Mist hung low again, and the sky stayed cloudy, the light flat and gray. Feroy had been gone since morning with the two scouts. Tesyb guessed they'd joined the watchers in their perch up in the tree, the one that looked down toward the compound.

He didn't know how they did it for hours at a time without moving much, but the scouts had already proved they could. The rest of them stayed hidden in the copse of trees. They sat. They checked their gear. They whispered when they had to speak. They listened to the forest and tried not to stare too often in the direction of the compound. Tesyb kept telling himself the same thing: they were close enough now that anything careless would matter.

By midday, the idleness had given them more rest than they wanted, and then it started working the other way. Men began shifting their weight more often. Hands kept going to sword belts and spear shafts for no reason. A few guards chewed dried meat too fast, then regretted it, swallowing hard and looking annoyed at themselves. Tesyb watched it spreading, like a mood passing through a line. Nobody said the word, but he saw it in faces and posture. Anxious. Nervous. Hudan noticed it too.

He moved through the group without raising his voice. He stopped where most of them could see him, and he spoke in a low, controlled tone, the kind that carried just enough when everyone was listening.

"Get up," he said.

"but stay quiet. We'll warm up now. Stretching first."