The darkness created after the setting sun gave Damon an edge; a sha this advantage was not shared by his allies, with the exception of the lunar moth dred, who rose with the night much like Damon.
His shadow perception was stronger at night thanks to the depth of the shadows and the limited light. It was different from the day since his perception worked best with shadows, and unfortunately, these hills didn’t have many shadows.
He squeezed the Staff of carnage in his hand; this would only be useful if he used it right...
A shadow slid back beneath Damon’s feet as he watched the trail of smoke, mingled with the scent of burning spices, rise into the night.
It would take so ti before their scent could be properly tracked.
His shadow—Ghost—slid beside him. Technically, Ghost was a shadow of a shadow. A mouthful, really. It had been created by Matia, but after that action, she had beco weak and unresponsive. So far, Damon couldn’t summon her again for combat.
Which ant—for now—he would make do with Ghost.
Still, that was fine. Ghost was an assassin-type. Stealthy. Lethal.
How else had he been able to sneak behind enemy lines and fire the arrow that started the flas?
A sha, really—no orc had died in the blast.
That only confird it. These ones were high-ranked. Strong enough to shrug off flas reinforced by rune magic.
Damon rode beside the makeshift train. It was ant to be a train, but there were no rails, and it certainly didn’t move like one.
If anything, Damon was under pressure. Heavy pressure. The runes he had carved were what kept the machine hovering just slightly above the ground.
It looked like a steel worm—rough, unpolished. So parts were unfinished, others dragged wheels across the dirt.
The "head" was hitched to a team of horses whose hooves shook the earth with every step.
He glanced at the freakish thing, this steel serpent that shouldn’t be moving. But credit where it was due—Aleph had turned his vague blueprint into sothing workable. That in itself was impressive.
He hadn’t expected it to actually work—at least not this well.
Riding beside him, Unnoticed Singularity scanned the distant hills.
"Where are we going now?"
Damon nodded. A bad habit of his—not explaining everything. Maybe it was the paranoid part of him.
He pointed toward the horizon.
"To the tallest hill."
Twilight, riding atop the moving train, overheard him and turned. His eyes widened.
The hill was massive. From here, it might as well have been a small mountain. Walking up would be exhausting on both body and mind. Grass covered the slope thickly, making it slippery and difficult.
He looked down at the hunk of tal he stood on.
"This thing won’t make it up there. Not fast enough."
Unnoticed Singularity agreed, nodding.
"Even if we do get there, the orcs could just follow. Going around the hill seems smarter."
Damon’s hair blew in the wind as his stag galloped beside the train. He didn’t disagree.
"That’s true," he called over the noise. "But if we go around, we won’t make it in ti. It’ll also be harder to defend and protect the civilians."
"Defend?" soone inside the train shouted. "You want us to defend?"
Damon nodded again, gripping the staff in his hand.
"The hill makes it harder to surround us. Gives us the high ground." His gaze turned sharp.
"And if enough of them gather in one place—we can wipe them out. That opens the door to the next phase of my plan."
Before they could press further, howls split the air. The beasts the orcs rode—hyena-like things—were closing in.
Damon narrowed his eyes.
His earlier effort hadn’t bought them much ti.
Worse still, the hills made terrible terrain for hiding a caravan. Staying at the base only left them exposed. But moving up ant being visible.
The train pushed up the first slope, offering a better view of the land beyond. Damon clicked his tongue as he spotted dark dots racing toward them—fast.
Mounted riders. Shadow perception confird it. Hunters.
"Move! Faster! Get this thing over that hill!"
Inside the train, the people scrambled. Wheels were turned harder, reins were whipped. Everything was pushed to its limit.
"Defend?" soone inside the train shouted.
"Turn, turn argh.."
The wheels screeched, churning grass and dirt. Damon rode alongside, issuing commands as best he could.
"Adventurers! Archers and mages—battle stations!"
He pointed toward the incoming riders.
"Mounted units with ! The tal’s too fragile—we can’t let them reach the train!"
He pulled in closer. Inside the cab, Saint was helping Ilukras keep the train stable.
Damon leaned in through the window.
"Ilukras, it’s up to you. Get this thing to the top."
He turned to another figure nearby.
"Wimpy—grab your magic guns and show what you’ve got."
They didn’t hesitate. Ilukras seized the lever, and Wimpy vanished toward the rear, energy flaring.
Near a wooden panel, Aleph lay half-conscious—having built the entire train in just a few hours.
Damon pulled his stag back, listening to the orcs’ guttural screams in their native tongue.
"Catch them! Surround them all!"
"Kill the n. Leave the won and children."
"They’ll make fine slaves!"
He yanked the reins. Part of him wondered—again—how he’d ended up in this situation. But now wasn’t the ti for reflection. He had one job buy ti.
The world remained dark. Dawn was still a ways off.
But Damon could already tell.
This was going to be a long night.
He dismissed the Staff of Carnage. It slipped back into the shadows.
From that sa darkness, he drew two swords—cold, quiet steel. The reins dropped from his hands, but the stag didn’t stop.
It was a war-beast from the Moon Glades. It knew how to fight.
The growls of the approaching beasts grew louder. Hulking silhouettes appeared—massive orcs on monstrous mounts.
Damon’s first thought?
"They’re big... good. They’ll feed my shadows just fine."
The stag kicked out, slamming its hooves into the jaw of the nearest beast.
Arrows whistled through the air, passing Damon. One struck an orc in the neck.
The high-speed battle began.
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