Soulseeker

Lithoniel 8.2

First draft

Once Lithoniel lifted the tent's door and took a peek outside, she was greeted by a completely different view. There were at least five inches of snow on the ground, and the sky was clear, the moon like a beacon after the storm. That wasn't good, but the worst part was that the guards resumed their duties. There weren't many of them, Lithoniel could see just four elves at the moment, but they were patrolling.

Luckily, it was the middle of the night, and it was cold outside, so she doubted they would meet regular tribesmen, but the guards were a serious threat now.

We can't go together, they would see us. She turned back and gestured. We'll have more chances if we do this gradually. She looked at Rolim. The oldest and the weakest first.

Rolim nodded and started giving orders when Lithoniel added, Put Volodar in the first group.

Rolim froze, a line appearing between his brows, but Lithoniel wasn't looking at him anymore. She was observing the guards, feverishly trying to memorize their patterns and routes. She was still analyzing every possible scenario when she spotted Rolim with the corner of her eye.

"Lithoniel" Rolim cautiously called her when she didn't look at him.

"How many?" She asked in a clipped voice.

She heard him drawing in a long breath, but she didn't turn.

"Fourteen, ourselves included. I divided them into three groups. Volodar will go with the first, Aila and Folas with the second and you and I with the last one."

Lithoniel nodded distractedly. Maybe Rolim wasn't her favorite person at the moment, but she trusted him. Besides, she had other concerns. Namely, the guards.

"There are a lot of them." Rolim whispered to her, following her gaze.

"We are in the middle of their encampment. Besides..." She trailed off and narrowed her eyes. She saw something, a moment when no one was looking their way. However, the time was short, just enough to cross that space separating them from the tents and reach the other side of the encampment.

"Besides...?" Rolim asked, but Lithoniel still refused to look at him.

She knew she was being petty, but his words still stung.

"How many grappling hooks do we have?" She asked instead.

"Enough. We find a few in the pavilion. I already handed them to the others. But..." Rolim hesitated. His voice sounded strange, more somber than usual.

Lithoniel squinted her eyes and forced herself to look at him. His expression was closed up, his mouth set in a hard line.

"What is it?"

Rolim didn't answer immediately but glanced back at the survivors, many of whom were still trying to stand up, their muscles sluggish after their prolonged captivity, "Most of them are debilitated by the lack of food and the long imprisonment."

Lithoniel tensed her shoulders, "Rolim, if you're saying they are too weak..."

Rolim held up his hands, "No, it will be tight, but they can make it. They just need a little help."

She narrowed her eyes, "What kind of help?"

Rolim's response was to pull something out of his pocket. It was just a vial, but the substance, that dark red sludge boiling inside it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"How did you get that thing?" She whispered, unwittingly making a step back as she battled the urge to recoil.

"I thought we might need it" Rolim replied. He looked unperturbed liked he expected that kind of reaction. "and I was right. If we use this..."