Durak's POV.
Santer returned from the forest with deep worry etched into his face. When the boy approached, he gave his simple nod and told us what he saw.
"Far too many people. A camp, about eighty or so strong. They have patrols as well. Most of them are traitors or criminals. Some armored soldiers," he said worriedly.
I could only scratch at my beard in frustration. Large camps would sometimes pop their ugly heads up in the forest, but never with so many. Bandits just couldn't manage to muster that many souls in one place for long enough before they either killed each other or the forest did it for'em.
And eighty was beyond what we could manage alone.
"Santer, you said some were soldiers, right? What did they look like?" Kaladin suddenly asked.
"More like knights than a bandit. But older, rougher-looking. Most of them were wearing whatever they could find. But all had a faded purple tabard," Santer answered.
There was a brief moment of clarity before his expression darkened into somethin' different. A cold, fierce gaze etched itself onto his face.
"Are you certain?" Kaladin asked.
Santer seemed to swallow slightly as he nodded. Kaladin let out a deep exhale before he looked down at me.
"Cerila and I will be handling things from here on out. You and your team are more than welcome to join us. But you don't have to if you don't want to," he offered.
I don't be doubtin' your strength, but eighty men are still too much even for you…it's foolish.
I looked over at my crew, and it seemed as if they had already settled on givin' a helping hand. The Dragonslayer had managed to get into their good graces, it seemed, a little too well, I'd say. The man had a certain charm to'em, I'll give'em that.
Even so.
"It's our duty, we'll be lending a hand. But we should get some hel—"
Kaladin shook his head and waved my concern away. "Help won't be needed here. Not yet, anyway. Cerila and I can take on most of the camp ourselves. We just need you to make sure nobody escapes for free," he said darkly.
Even I had to swallow nervously at his words. Many fools boasted of their great strength, able to best a hundred men, often with far too much ale in their bellies. But very few men could make it seem as simple as wiping out a small village as takin' a stroll. And do so with an indifferent gaze.
Something indeed had shifted in Kaladin. There is a reason he is called the Dragonslayer. And Cerila is no simple girl either, that's for certain.
"Alright, we'll place our faith in you and give you the support you need," I said.
He also looked up at the sky and nodded. "Perfect, I appreciate it. Then, Santer, take us on a path directly to the camp. We'll kill any patrols on the way. We'll even have the camp taken by nightfall, it seems," he said simply.
With our choices made, we had nothin' to do but grit our teeth. I figured small hit-and-run attacks on them would've been better. Now that was something we could do with ease. Burn some supplies, kill some patrols, lure some beasts over. Makin' the lives of those in that big camp a livn' nightmare wouldn't be too hard.
Of course, Kaladin had proved himself so far, and even if it was a risk to challenge so many with so few, escaping was more than possible. The forest was an unforgiving place for a big group. Some monsters, usually the nastiest, didn't care if there were twenty or a hundred men to rip through. It was all the same to'em.
Either way, after carefully marching for some time, Santer got a sniff on a patrol. We tracked down the group as three'em huddled around a snare trap. Not a single one of em' looked special. They just seemed like dirty, forest bandits.
I was curious to see how Kaladin would handle'em but nothin' in the world could have prepared me for the ease in which he dispatched them. With a single raise of his hand, some stone pebbles the size of a finger began to form in the air.
One second they were spinnin' about so fast it was hard to make'em out. Then there was a light swoop noise as they disappeared. By the time I blinked and looked over at the patrol, their bodies were already slumping toward the cold ground, the tree beside them painted red.
"Let's keep going."
—
After clearing a few more patrols, we finally arrived at the main camp. It was the largest gathering of people outside of a settlement I had ever laid my eyes on. Simple bandit groups never got that big; they were far too dangerous for obvious reasons.
But why such a large group managed to gather in one place was also a problem. Outside the camp perimeter, I couldn't help but frown as I looked at the odd things. There was a certain order to the camp, fresh tents, crates of food, things that did not belong in what should have been a smelly, disorganized mess of vagrants on the run from the law.
Someone is gathering the rogue groups into one place. Those reasons, whatever they may be, can't be good.
Elowen looked over at me with a worried expression, and all I could do was nod. We were too close to talk, even though the camp was overwhelmingly Human, we didn't need a Beastmen or an Elf hearin' us by accident. Either way, it was clear she also saw the problems, and her concern was only mounting further. This camp had more secrets than we would have liked.
Even so, Kaladin said it wouldn't be a problem. So we split into groups of three to await his signal. We were told to take cover and not expose ourselves til his magic went off completely. Whatever he was planning, he said it would be dangerous for us if we were exposed.
I sat hunkered behind a fallen tree and waited. My heart began to pick up; the anticipation of the coming battle set me on edge. Excitement, fear, understanding, all of it mixed into one thing that prepared me for the fight at hand.
The evening sky was tinted orange with the setting sun, but it suddenly got far brighter. The camp began to stir, murmurs swarmed through the camp like fire as everyone looked up into the sky. Even I dared a glance to see the streaks of fire lighting up the forest.
"We're under attack!"
A voice ripped through the sudden silence, but it was too late for'em. Those streaks that were high in the sky charged toward the ground, and I hid below the trunk. The screams and shouts were drowned out as explosions that brought about what felt like the end of the world went off.
The booms were deep, and each one shook my very bones and made my ears ring. Shrapnel slapped trees, tore bushes apart, and men apart, and soon only screams of pain and death filled the air. When I looked back over the camp, it was devastated.
Most of the souls caught in the blasts were nothing more than craters in the dirt. Those close by were shredded into meat puddles, and those even further weren't spared. A war mage was a being that could command a battlefield with their magic and cause an untold amount of devastation. But they usually required a small squad of em'. For a single mage to wipe out a small company in a single strike, now that was something rare.
The Dragonslayer wasn't just a slayer of beasts, but of men, it seems.
Those lucky enough to survive began to gather themselves, bloodied and confused, and they stood back up. A few golden barriers had been erected just in time, but the once eighty-man camp had been reduced to a fraction of it in the blink of an eye. I only managed to fire one bolt, taking the life of a staggering man missing an arm before a golden blur shot out from the tree line.
Lightning arced across the young Elf as his spear reaped the lives of whoever found themselves unlucky to be in his way. Even as I readied a sudden sense of fear gripped me as the usually calm and kind boy gutted a man with a single thrust of his spear and moved with such speed and precision as to cut off the head of another.
He was barely a blur as he moved toward a group of those paladins. Their faces were twisted in shock and fear as they barked orders for their men to attack, but even those who managed to draw their weapons were of little consequence to the Dragonslayer.
Spears of earth rose from the ground, impaling entire groups, flames engulfed men, sending them into a frenzy as their lives burned away. When he reached the small group of paladins, each of them sent their own spells at Kaladin. Hammers and swords of light, but all were either dodged or cut down before they could even manage a scratch.
Elowen, Ingra, and I took out the stragglers we could find; they weren't even able to pay attention to us because those lucky enough to avoid Kaladin were being cut down by Cerila. Her single sword bisected full-grown men in half while her ice magic sent others to the grave with lances or bursts of cold, able to freeze them into corpses.
"It—it's a slaughter," Ingra muttered.
"Just…keep shooting," I said quietly.
The paladins he fought at least put up a fight. They were able to exchange blows of sword and magic, but the sweat and blood that dripped down their fear-stricken faces was clear enough to see. They were being overwhelmed in every way, and the first to falter had already happened.
A bolt of golden lightning arced from Kaladin's spear, shattering a light barrier of a paladin and striking him in the head. The sheer force of the spell left only a smoldering, headless corpse. A group of ragtag bandits tried to take the chance to attack him from behind, but with a wave of his hand, Kaladin split the earth with a rumble, and they were swallowed by the earth.
Cerila was cutting down another group of paladins all on her own, and Kaladin had already impaled another on the end of his spear. The paladin grabbed the shaft of his weapon, his light magic making his body glow as he tried to heal himself, but with a single punch, his head exploded into mist, his body limp as Kaladin kicked it off his spear.
He approached the final paladin with calm steps. The paladin tried to keep him at bay with light magic, but each spell was either dodged or destroyed with a single swipe of his spear. The gap between the two was as vast as the sea. The paladin sensed it, and an odd expression dwelt on his face.
I could see it, the fear in his eyes as his hands shakily gripped his sword. One of understanding and disbelief. But it didn't seem to bother Kaladin much as he approached, lighting moving over his body. He was a blur as his spear went for the paladin's heart.
The light barrier shattered, but the paladin at least managed to block the blow. He was sent reeling back from the force, but an earthen lance erupted from the ground, piercing his leg. The man managed a scream of pain as he wildly swung his sword in defense, but Kaladin swept his spear, disarming him before driving the tip of his weapon into the man's skull.
Those paladins were not easy opponents; I would have struggled for my life just to best one of'em. But he dispatched three as if they were common beasts. And before I even realized it, the once eighty-man camp had turned into a crater of blood and corpses. It hadn't even taken ten minutes.
"Those two…is that what it means to be a War God?" Elowen asked nervously.
If not this, then what counts?
Cerila rejoined Kaladin; she had just as easily killed her opponents, but the two of them stared off into the woods at the opposite side of the camp. From the brush, figures began to appear. Their green armor shone from the fire around them as they calmly strode into the clearing.
A man holding a disheveled bandit in chains led them, and I recognized him instantly. It was hard not to. His knightly appearance, with the white wings sprouting from his helm, was a symbol of a winged sword on his tabard. His helmed gaze scanned the devastation before him before he calmly looked over at the Dragonslayer.
"Seems we were late."