Redemption In The Shadows

The atmosphere within the forest was one of deathly silence as Damien, along with his small group, was ready to move. He still felt Elyas-like an unyielding vampire-on his back, his self-satisfied smirk and calculated arrogance still rippling within Damien's mind. Elyas had always been a step ahead of him in the course of his previous incarnation, and now that same insidious cunning was turned against Damien.

Amara came up to him, daggers sheathed but sharp in expression. "You're brooding again."

"I'm thinking," Damien corrected, scanning the treetops with steel-gray eyes.

"You're always thinking," she retorted, crossing her arms. "The question is, what are you gonna do with him?"

"We'll track him," Damien replied. "We need to know more about his rats and how deep their influence goes. If another of Elyas's puppets comes out from behind the curtain, cutting Reynard's strings would not be enough."

Amara tilted her head. Her gaze was penetrating, considering him. "And how do you expect to do that? Elyas isn't stupid; he'll be expecting us."

"That's why we won't be chasing him head-on," Damien said. "Not yet. We need a little leverage."

Mixture of smirk and disdain was blossoming again on Amara's face. "Finally, a plan I like. Where do we start?"

"With someone who knows more than we do."

---

The group made their way onward into the forest, carefully avoiding patrols between nameless woods. Damien was determinedly fixed, his gaze ahead, but every now and then he met Amara watching him.

"What is it?" He asked during the short break to catch a breath.

"You're different," she said thoughtfully.

"Different how?"

"So-so less predictable. More… deliberate. It fits you."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "And I take it as a compliment from you."

"You should," she said, grinning again.

---

Once dusk had fallen, they arrived at the very fringe of a little valley town. Smoke was plumbing from the chimneys, and through the narrow winding street flickered the gentle glow of the lanterns. Very quiet and very unpretentious, like a village that hardly ever found a mention in maps.

"This is it?" Amara asked, crouching down beside Damien, as they watched the little hamlet from an approaching ridge.

"Yes," said Damien. "Somebody here owes me a favor."

"A friend of yours?" Amara's frown deepened.

"Not exactly," said Damien in a guarded tone.

Amara threw her eyes skyward. "Of course not."

---

During the night, cloaking their presence, they slipped into the sleepy little hamlet where only the occasional villager scurried home.

They came on a humble inn on the outskirts of the town with a lazy wooden sign creaking in the wind. Inside it was warm and dimly lit with the smell of ale and roasted meat running through the air.

At a corner table sat a man with scruffy hair and a bristled beard, sipping a heavy tankard of ale. While he wore simple clothing, the sharpness in his eyes pointed to his still-acquired intelligence.

"Viktor," he said raised the mug and nodded towards the man at the corner table.

As Damien approached, the eyes narrowed and the voice dropped low. "Damien Vryce. Ah, I thought I shall not see you again."

"Neither did I," Damien returned, sitting opposite him.

Amara hung back, casual in her stance but poised. Viktor glanced over at her, and his eyes brightened with genuine curiosity.

"And who might this be?" he asked.

"Someone you wouldn't want to cross," Amara said with a smile that didn't even reach her eyes.

Viktor chuckled. "Alright, alright. So, why has dear Damien decided to do me a visit all the way in my little corner of the world? Last I heard, there... well, let's just say you have a general opinion already formed of him."

"Things do change," Damien remarked gently. "It's a matter of information."

"Always is!" Viktor said as he leaned back in his chair. "What makes you think I have it, by the way?"

"Because you always do," Damien replied.

Viktor studied him for a moment and, with a shrug, said, "Fine, what would you like to know?"

"Elyas," Damien said. "What is he planning, and how deep does his network run?"

Viktor darkened his gaze. "Elyas, now there's a name I haven't heard for a long while. He is quiet, but there are whispers, rumors of alliances with merchants and mercenaries and a few other noble houses. He is building something, Damien, something big."

"We already know that he's supporting Reynard's rebellion," Amara said. "What else?"

Viktor hesitated for a moment, only to lean in a little closer. "A meeting is being held soon. In fact, it's a gathering of Elyas's inner circle. If you can get to it, you should be able to find what you're looking for."

"Where?" Damien asked.

"A fortress in the Blackspire Mountains," Viktor said. "It's heavily guarded, but if you're careful, you might just make it inside."

Damien nodded as a thousand thoughts raced through his mind. "Thank you."

Viktor smirked. "Don't thank me just yet. If Elyas finds out that I assisted you with this, I can consider myself dead on arrival."

"And then don't let him find it out!" Damien exclaimed as he stood.

---

They stepped out of the inn, Amara keen beside Damien, looking deep in thought.

"Do you trust him?" she asked.

"Not wholly," Damien seemed to think, then replied, "Viktor never steps out until he smells profit in it. If he were to mislead us, he knows he wouldn't live long enough to tell the tale."

Amara smirked. "Okay, let's set the Blackspire Mountains aside now. So, what's up?"

"We sneak into the meeting," said Damien, "to get some evidence of Elyas's alliances to turn his followers against him."

"What if it were a trap?"

"We'll just have to deal with it," Damon said with bravado.

"Now, you know, Damien, you are stubborn in your ways," Amara laughed. "But there's something that I love about you."

---

The trek to the Blackspire Mountains, therefore, was long and treacherous; the very land grew colder and less forgiving with every mile passed. But accompanied, Damien and Amara, with a small group of elite fighters, moved carefully and methodically.

They reached the base of the mountains, where the air was thinning, and the high peaks lurked ominously above. The fortress Viktor had told them about was somewhere in a narrow pass, jagged towers merging seamlessly with rocky cliffs.

"Not the most welcoming place," Amara muttered, mist escaping from her breath.

"Nope," Damien replied, "but it is our only bet now."

With careful and cunning consideration, they surveyed the area for patrolling guards and their shot at entrances. Fortified even as Viktor had warned, yet with the possibilities churning in his mind, Damien kept dreaming.

They had reached a narrow ledge on the map. "This ridge here-the one leading into an unguarded section of the wall-if we can climb it, will be our way inside."

Amara raised an eyebrow. "Climbing a sheer cliff at night. Lovely."

"Do you have a better idea?" He asked.

"Well," Amara laughed, "No."

---

The climb was strenuous, forcing nothing short of a forced tormented movement up with barely a vestige of hope in the face of ice wind tearing at one's skin, while Damien led, burning muscles on the way. Behind him came Amara, gliding like a graceful gazelle, the slipped poise and dexterity: marvelous.

"Almost there," Damien breathed out to her on being able to hold on by straining to his very last.

"This is good, because if I fall, I will blame you," warned Amara.

Damien replied, apparently somewhat nervously, "Fair enough."

They made it over the rise without a hitch, struggling painfully across the edge and onto the fortress wall. Down in a distance, guards were patrolling the grounds, and a long dim light moved from here to there, making an outline of some tremendous activity in the stronghold.

Damien just shushed her, steel-gray eyes searching for something in the courtyard below.

"This is it," he whispered. "Let's find out what Elyas is hiding."

Amara nodded intensely and melded with the shadows that followed them with vengeance, striving for the truth.