Van Lagos pulled back his hood, his red eyes glinting from the embers falling overhead.

Murmurs broke out among the mercenaries. One word cutting through the cacophony: Dahlgeshi.

"Aren't you a little far North, Dahlgeshi?!" Took asked.

Van Lagos was silent. His eyes swept over the mercenaries in front of him, stopping when they settled on me. He flashed a feral grin that raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

Took continued.

"It doesn't matter. What's one Dahlgeshi to us? We fought them before. We can fight them again. Right, boys!"

A defiant yell rose from mercenaries around me.

That yell was cut short when the Lagos cartel, sixty riders strong, materialized behind their leader. Lira was at their head. Her right arm was in a sling. With her other hand, she untied a length of rope that connected her horse to the one beside her. The other riders followed suit.

Her invisibility must have needed physical contact to work. Good to know.

Van Lagos ripped the scimitar free from his scabbard and raised it in the air.

"Kill the grey beards and bring me Jacob!"

"This can't be happening..." Took said.

"CHARGE!!!"

The riders launched into motion, galloping around Van Lagos with their scimitars gleaming in the falling firelight. The mercenaries closed ranks and braced for impact.

"Archers, loose your arrows! You two, get the elf to the wagon! We need him alive," Took said, pushing me away from the battle.

He frowned, staring down at the ground and the mist rising to his knees.

"Not again!"

That was Isla's work.

She was still following the plan.

My guards ushered me to the right side of the main road as my two enemies met. Metal clashed against wood, horses whinnied, and men screamed.

Now was my chance!

When the first mercenary tied me up, I made myself as big as possible. I held my breath, flexed my muscles and puffed out my chest. It was a simple trick, and, for once, I was conscious enough to use it. As I exhaled my held breath, I made myself small, creating space in the ropes binding me.

My arms shot forward and up, shrugging the bundle of rope over my head.

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The mercenary holding my rope did a double-take and then reached for my short sword on his hip.

I grabbed the bare blade with my right hand, willed my dagger into my left and buried the weapon into his neck. My other guard wheeled around with a club in his hands. I yanked the dagger out of the first guard and flicked the weapon into the second guard's face.

His head snapped back, landing with a thud and swallowed by the mist writhing on the ground. I willed my dagger back into my hand and turned to the battle.

A wave of fog rolled in from my left, blanketing the battlefield in a thick mist that turned men into shadows.

I was pulled down by the weight of the first guard. I used the momentum to dip into a crouch and slip my short sword out of his belt. I reassembled my weapon, pausing to wipe the grease off my face.

This wasn't good. One stray ember and I would light up like kindling.

The mist helped, but I needed Isla to wash off the grease soaking into my jacket. If I had to guess, she was on the other side of the battlefield.

I turned back to the battle hidden in the mist.

This was crazy.

I should hide in one of the houses and wait until both sides were too tired to fight.

I grimaced at a stab of guilt.

My party needed me.

With Dugan down and Thor barely able to move, it was only Castille and Isla against two hordes of enemies. What if something happened to them?

What if something happened to her?

"No!"

I shot to my feet and ran into the mist.

# # #

A cacophony of sounds greeted me. Steel singing against steel. The sizzle of falling embers. The hoofbeats of galloping horses. The shouts and screams of pitched battle.

Enlarged shadows clashed on curtains of fog, backlit by firelight. Small groups of mercenaries clustered together to fend off marauding horse riders attacking from all sides.

I ignored them, probing forward with my short sword, my head jerking at every loud sound around me.

I stumbled, almost tripping over the body of a dead, leather-clad warrior. He was young, his dirty blonde hair caked with streaks of drying blood and the damp earth under our feet. Someone stole his weapon, making it difficult to tell which side he fought for.

A steady beat of hooves behind me, and I was twisting out of the way of a scimitar raking the air. I ducked, slapping the flat of my blade against the horse's flank. It reared on its hind legs before galloping off with its panicked rider.

A shadow in the corner of my eye, and I turned to a white-haired mercenary pushing past me. I moved faster, hoping to avoid whatever he was running from.

The deeper I walked into the fog, the closer I came to the heart of the fighting. The sound of battle surrounded me on all sides, and I tensed, waiting for another enemy to charge out of the mist. All I could do was move forward with the thought of my party waiting for me on the other side. To turn around or change direction was to risk becoming lost.

A second silhouette appeared before me. I raised my short sword and paused as the fleeing mercenary skidded to a stop. He stared at me wide-eyed and kept staring as a scimitar cleaved through the top half of his face. His body fell with a thud, and another person stepped forward through the mist.

Van. Lagos.

Shit.

His red feline eyes lit up when he caught sight of me.

"Jacob?! Did you seek me out, or are you just that unlucky?"

I shrugged.

"Unlucky, I guess."

"Shall we test that?"

He raised his left hand and launched a stream of fire in my direction.

I jumped to my left, landing on my shoulders and rolling into a crouch.

That was close.

I frowned at a sudden warmth running up my right arm. My sleeve was on fire!

Before I could react, Van Lagos was stepping through the mist, swiping his scimitar to the side and sending an arc of fire through the air.

I fell forward, a wave of heat singeing the hair on the back of my head.

A burning sensation ignited on my back. I rolled to my left, smothering the flames.

Footsteps followed me, squelching into the muddy ground.

I rolled to a stop, raising my head.

Van Lagos' face was fixed in a vicious smile as his scimitar arched down for the killing blow.

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