The Journeymen

Uncomfortable But Deadly

Open country is the worst. At least that was what Jack felt as he and Evan low crawled through the thigh high, yellow grass that covered the section of flat prairie to the southwest of Dumas. Jack was much more used to moving unseen through the woods in his home region and it was widely accepted that a long distance low crawl was the worst way for a sniper to get into position.

The two silent hunters had almost 1000 yards to crawl before they made it to the grove of pecan trees where Anya would be waiting as she stalled for their arrival. If everything went according to plan, they would be making the shot by the morning. The two Master Journeymen had instructed the undercover apprentice to ensure that Gabe was near where her horse would be kept. Once the morning sun had risen in the east, she would discretely give them the signal when she was ready to run. Jack would take the shot, Anya would move to her horse to get clear, and he and Evan would open fire into the goblins and remainder of men. At the first sound of gunshots the mounted element of the Dumas Guard would make the thousand yard ride into the grove to wipe out the raiding party.

And so under the dark sky, the two men crawled, faces pressed in the grass and dirt, dragging their packs and extra equipment behind them. Both men carried their rifles in their non-dominant hands, holding the sling in their fist at the front sling mount. On their heads they wore bump helmets with night vision monoculars mounted on the front, a welcome addition to their kit which had been provided by two of the fallen masters. They were draped in camouflage netting with grass from the prairie woven in to make them nearly invisible to the sentries who were sure to be on watch throughout the night.

When the two reached any small rise on the flat ground, they would drop down their monoculars, poke their heads up above the grass, regain their bearings, and then resume the low crawl. Each time they looked, the green tinted view of the night vision optic revealed that they had moved closer and closer to their intended goal.

Once the pair reached the grove of trees, they would find their position to the east of the camp, concealed in the woods, and wait. They could not take the shot from too great of a distance as the shot needed to be perfect. Even a thin branch the size of a toothpick could alter the course of the bullet, causing a missed shot that would likely result in nothing less than the fiery death of all who were involved with the attack. Perhaps even worse in Jack's mind, Gabe would survive.

As he crawled, he thought of his hunting adventures that had crafted him into the woodsman he had become. He had crawled long distances with his father while on hunts in wide open, flat Wyoming, stalking antelope, crawling within thirty yards of the watchful animals to take a shot with his bow. Once he reached a distance in which he believed he could take a humane shot, he would pop up, draw back the bow, line up the shot, and shoot all within a matter of seconds.

The shot in the morning would be different, though. Rather than crawling in and taking the shot immediately, he would instead wait, completely motionless in his hidden position, his older and more experienced companion at his side as his prey walked into the target area. One precise shot. No headshots, those were too risky. Heads move quickly in comparison to the large thoracic cavity of his target. If the shot was lined up correctly, he could shoot through both the heart and one or even perhaps both of the lungs.

Lying in wait to ambush his prey brought his mind back to the cold winter mornings, hiding in a deer blind with his father. They would wake up long before the sun rose, make their way to the prepositioned hideaway, waiting for the deer in the place it went to daily. One precise shot, a quick death for an animal that would otherwise be doomed to the slow death of starvation or predation. It was a heavy responsibility but it was one that taught him how to provide for his family throughout whatever came in the future. A quick death with a great reverence for the meals that would come.

Death would come quickly for his magical foe as well. Even if the shot missed the heart, the traitor would die, helplessly gasping as his collapsed lungs filled with blood. Panicked suffocation on his own life giving fluids over the course of seconds that would likely feel like years seemed like a better death for the man who so mercilessly took the life of his hunter's best friend. His last thoughts would be ones of fear, of pain, feeling the deep-rooted terror that had existed in humanity since before man was the apex predator. Perhaps a lung shot would be better.

"Just a little further to go," Evan quietly breathed as he ducked his head down after a quick check of their position.

Jack only nodded as he continued to pull himself forward. His arms and legs were tired from the uncomfortable crawl but that didn't matter to him. The only thing that mattered was the wizard's death. He had already dismissed his concerns for Anya, she would be able to find her way out. The guard had enough men and had the element of surprise so he was unconcerned about the rest of the ambush going off smoothly. He just wanted revenge.

The pair finally reached the tree line. Under the cover a fallen tree the two men adjusted their equipment. Both men replaced any essential combat gear that had to be removed for their long crawl. Jack positioned Chuck's chest rig that was loaded up with magazines for the machine gun that he carried strapped to his pack. In his hands he carried his suppressed rifle that was loaded with subsonic ammunition, just in case they needed to discretely eliminate a foe. He also carried his tomahawk and kukri knife on his waist for the same reason.

Without much trouble, they snuck past the goblin picket line and located the area where the horses were tied. In the eerie green glow of their night vision monoculars, they located Anya's horse and found a good sniper's hide at the base of a pecan tree amongst the remains of the previous season's fallen fruit. Switching out his subsonic ammunition for the more powerful and accurate standard supersonic rounds, Jack placed his rifle on the top of his pack and waited.

Lying on their stomachs, the two men waited. The morning would be vastly different than the night had been. It would not be quiet, calm or peaceful. Each step and movement would not be done carefully. Instead the world would explode into raging gunfire, thundering hoofbeats, and screams of death. And Jack would be the one to start it all. With the death of Gabriel Franks.