The Vanguard didn't march. Their movement was a ragged, silent shuffle through the undergrowth.
There were ten of them. No horses. No banners. Just leather armor, dull steel, and eyes that looked like they had forgotten how to blink.
Kael walked at the front, next to Karn. The blind Sergeant moved with eerie confidence, his heavy boots finding solid ground where Kael stumbled. He didn't use a cane. He used the wind, the smell, the sound of the forest breathing.
"Two miles to the ridge," Kael whispered.
"Talk less," Karn rumbled. "Sound carries."
Jax was flanking them, moving through the trees like a squirrel. Every few minutes, he would drop a pebble on Karn's shoulder to signal clear path.
"You trust him?" Kael asked quietly, nodding at Jax up in the canopy.
"I trust his greed," Karn said. "Vane pays a bounty for every live prisoner. Jax likes coin. Simple math."
Math. Everyone used it. Elric used combat math. Vane used economic math. The Vanguard used the math of survival.
They reached the edge of the Black Reach an hour before dawn. The mist was thick, clinging to the trees like wet wool.
Kael stopped. "The cliff overlooks the valley here. The patrol route we saw... it loops around that rock formation."
Karn held up a fist. The squad froze instantly. They didn't need orders. They just melted into the brush—behind rocks, into hollow logs, up trees.
"We wait," Karn said.
"For how long?"
"Until the prey walks into the jaw."
They waited.
The cold seeped into Kael's bones. He touched the hilt of his short sword. It felt light compared to the one Elric had given him. Cheap steel. Expendable.
Just like him.
Crunch.
A heavy hoof on stone.
Kael stiffened. He looked at Karn. The blind man's head was tilted, listening. He held up three fingers.
Three riders.
Just like before.
The patrol emerged from the mist. Black Banner Outriders. Massive horses. Faceless helmets. They weren't riding fast this time; they were scanning the perimeter.
The lead rider passed Karn's hiding spot. Karn didn't move. He was a statue of moss and leather.
The second rider passed.
The third rider—the straggler—paused. His horse snorted, tossing its head. The rider looked directly at the bush where Jax was hiding.
Karn dropped his hand.
It wasn't a signal. It was an execution.
Jax dropped from the tree. He didn't land on the ground; he landed on the third rider's shoulders. One arm wrapped around the man's neck, the other drove a dagger into the gap between the helmet and the pauldrons.
The rider went limp without a sound.
At the same instant, Karn moved.
He surged out of the brush with impossible speed for his size. He didn't swing his axe. He hooked the shaft around the second rider's leg and yanked.
The man was torn from his saddle. He hit the ground with a clang of metal. Karn stepped on his chest—a heavy, crushing stomp that dented the breastplate—and leveled his axe at the throat.
The lead rider spun his horse around, lance lowering.
"Left!" Kael shouted, jumping from his cover.
He threw a rock—not a weapon, a distraction. It hit the horse's flank. The beast shied, ruining the rider's aim.
Two other Vanguard soldiers—Horg and a woman with a crossbow—rushed the horse. Horg grabbed the bridle, dragging the beast's head down with brute strength. The woman fired a bolt point-blank into the horse's neck.
The horse collapsed. The rider was pinned.
It was over in ten seconds.
Three riders. Three down. No alarm raised.
Karn stood over the second rider—the one he had pinned. The man was struggling, reaching for a dagger.
Karn kicked the hand, breaking the wrist.
"Bag him," Karn ordered.
Horg and Jax moved in, stripping the man of his weapons and pulling a heavy burlap sack over his head. They bound his hands with iron wire.
"The others?" Jax asked, looking at the dead third rider and the pinned lead rider.
"Kill them," Karn said. "Take the armor. Leave the bodies for the wolves. Make it look like a beast attack."
Kael watched as they efficiently slit the throats of the other two men. It was mechanical. Brutal.
Karn turned his milky eyes toward Kael.
"Distraction was sloppy," Karn grunted. "But effective. You got good eyes, Rat."
Kael looked at the prisoner writhing in the sack. Why Vane wanted a live one, he didn't know. But he knew one thing:
The Vanguard wasn't a suicide squad. It was a pack of wolves that hunted the hunters.
And for the first time since the village burned, Kael felt like he wasn't just prey.
"Let's go," Karn ordered. "Home before the sun hits the wall."