Mercenary of Lastia - BtLH - Ch 43 (Patreon)

Lys’s hands trembled slightly as she checked her climbing harness for the third time. Each strap was secure and snug. If she had thought praying to Bunzard would have been enough to get her out of the mission, she would have vowed to become a priestess on the spot.

Alas.

The weight of the arrows in her pack felt like they would pull her down. There were a lot of arrows, at least eight bundles, and her pack was light. The others had pulled out almost half of her stuff and spread it around, just so she would have an easier time.

Benefit of being completely clueless and a rookie.

Actually, the weight was probably half her nerves at this point.

“You alright there, Trekhill?” Dax asked.

She tried to laugh it off. “As read as I’ll ever be.” Everyone else was ready and they were just waiting for Sergeant Tilledge. The waiting was making it worse, Lys realized. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to grow more energetic.

The relief she expected when the Sergeant finally entered the tent to brief them was nowhere to be found. Instead, it just drove home that she would be participating, and soon.

Everyone else was completely nonchalant, but they went silent immediately and paid attention as Tilledge began to speak.

“Listen up. Our mission is to scale the escarpment above the enemy's position and then make our way across the ledge overlooking them. It will be tight the entire way, but it’s a perfect place to shoot from and they have paid no attention to it. We’ll be providing support for the main assault at dawn.”

He looked at all of them, giving each person an expecting look. “Dax, Cole, you will be leading the climb and securing the lines for the rest of the team.”

“Yes sir. We got it,” Dax replied. Cole nodded in agreement and gave a thumbs up.

Tilledge’s eyes moved on. “Lark, you’ll be taking the rear and making sure the security anchors are in place.”

Lys swallowed hard and raised her hand. “What about me?”

“You’re in the middle, Trekhill. I’ll be behind you, making sure you don’t make a quick trip down. Once we are up, you’ll be shooting. You’re our best archer.”

Well, that explained why they wanted her, but she still didn’t think she had any business going up the mountain under the circumstances. Her hands tightened around her bow.

“You all can rest. We’ll be leaving near midnight,” Tilledge said.

The others did just that. But it felt like a vise was tightening around her. Were they actually going to do this? The sun dipped below the horizon, and the flicker of campfires cast shadows across the camp as Lys hugged her knees inside her tent.

She wasn’t sure how, but she fell asleep and slept fitfully until Lark came and shook her awake gently. It only took a few minutes before she was ready and the rest of the group was waiting. She checked her harness straps again, just to make sure they hadn’t gotten loose. They were fine.

They marched out of the camp on the opposite end from the enemy and headed directly away. Their footsteps were muffled by the soft grass. After a few miles, they cut back toward the mountain.

There was a half moon out and absolutely zero clouds, so it wasn’t quite pitch black. That was good, because they couldn’t carry any light.

The summer night air nipped slightly more than she expected. Zero clouds probably meant they were safe from rain, but if the weather changed while they were up there…

She almost tripped on a depression on the ground but Cole caught her.

“Careful there, Trekhill. Pay attention to your feet,” he warned.

Lys nodded and tried to focus. One foot in front of the other in the half-moon’s light. They moved mostly in silence, only whispering and changing directions a few times as they came closer to the mountain. It loomed overhead quickly.

They weren’t actually that far from the enemy camp, were they? Just another thing to be nervous about.

When Tilledge raised a hand and brought them to a complete stop, she spot the flickering fires from both camps.

She looked up at the cliff. It was not as bad as she had expected—it wasn’t totally vertical. It was still a fucking cliff, though. Suddenly, everything seemed a lot worse.

Tilledge’s voice cut through the quiet. “Remember, remain silent. No screaming or shouting, no matter what happens. One sound could give away everyone’s position.”

Dax looked at them with a stupid grin. “Yeah, and don’t scream even if you fall off the cliff.”

Tilledge fixed him with a stern look. “That’s not a joke, Private. It’s an order. If you fall, you fall silently.”

A shiver ran down Lys’s spine.

Dax stepped forward, a hook in one hand and a hammer wrapped in cloth in the other. With a muted thud, he placed the first anchor. It sounded way too loud not to be heard by the enemy in the silence.

Nothing happened though, except for Dax to continue up the slant of rock. Maybe they were further away than she thought, or the sound just didn’t carry thanks to the cloth.

Cole followed Dax up, securing the group line to each anchor. Tilledge looked at her.

She checked her harness, and then Tilledge checked it again, just to be sure. Then she clipped onto the line and began to climb. The anchors weren’t that far apart, and she had to manage which clip was connected to what. That took most of her focus.

Other than her muscles burning after a while. There was just enough light to see things. Despite the intensity, she kept her breathing under control and the deep cyclic breathing spread warmth through her limbs, powerful enough to keep her from struggling.

Until she looked down.

Despite the dark, she could see how far up they were. One time when she was younger, she had climbed up onto the roof of her parent’s cottage. That had turned out to be terrifying, and her father had been forced to fetch a ladder and come up and bring her down.

This was ten times worse.

And her father was gone, and there was no catching to be had. Technically, if they fell, everyone was tied to the anchors, so they wouldn’t hit the ground, but she’d still be smashed into the rock below. Even with that safeguard, it was scary.

“Don’t freeze, Trekhill,” Tilledge said from just below.

Lys glanced—he had caught up with her. She’d stopped moving for too long. “Sorry.”

They continued for a while until she reached Cole, who hung just below Dax.

“Hold up,” Dax called out, his voice barely audible. “Rest spot ahead.”

It was a narrow ledge. She hauled herself onto it and sat beside the others. There was enough room for everyone to sit, even if it left their legs dangling. She leaned against the cliff, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Everyone alright?” Cole asked, his voice low and steady.

A chorus of muted affirmations rippled through the group.

The stop didn’t last long, but that suited her just fine. She really hoped the ledge they would be shooting from was much, much larger. Her world narrowed until it was nothing but the anchor above her, her safety lines, and the next handhold.

“Almost there,” Dax called down. That was a miracle.

Lys watched him disappear over a rock ledge. Cole followed, and then it was her turn. She grabbed the next handhold and suddenly the rock gave, and she slipped backwards.

Away from the wall.

A scream rose in her throat as she fell, but she clamped her jaw shut and raised her arms to protect her head. Something snagged her, and she slammed into someone.

Lark let out an oof, but his arm clamped around her, slipping underneath her backpack as he pulled her in tight. The anchors had pulled tight and saved the day—or night—as promised.

“I’ve got you,” Lark said. “Calm, Lys. You don’t weigh that much, no worries. Catch your breath and keep going.”

Lys nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. Her heart tried to punch its way out of her chest. The ropes were tangled a bit, but she pulled her way up and then over Tilledge to sort them out. Then reach the ledge. Dax and Cole both grabbed her hands and helped pull her up.

The ledge was much larger than the rest stop and she moved as far from the edge as possible, hugging the mountain. “I hate it,” Lys muttered.

Dax let out a chuckle.

Everyone else made it up with no further issue and they began to walk toward the point that was above the enemy camp. The ledge became wider as they went, which was very welcome.

When they reached their destination, they began to set a makeshift camp. The others took off their harnesses, but she pounded an anchor into the rock and kept hers on, tied off.

“You don’t need that,” Cole said as he watched her.

“With all due respect, I’m not shooting unless I’m tied to this rock,” Lys shot back.

Tilledge looked over at the two of them. “Leave him be. Won’t bother anything, and it was a rough first climb.”

“Just be careful with your line. Don’t want anyone else to trip over it,” Cole added.

That was fair. She nodded and made sure it was long enough to not make an accidental tripwire.

The packs formed a circle, and they began to pull out the bundles of arrows. Some of the ones in Lark’s pack were snapped from her impact, but that still left a lot more than she imagined.

“Listen up,” Tilledge said, gathering the group. “We’ll be resting until dawn. Keep your voices down and stay out of sight. The last thing we need is to give away our position.”

That was a splendid plan, in her opinion. She settled down against the cool stone, her bow and quiver within easy reach. As she closed her eyes, the weight of the impending battle pressed, but tiredness took over easily. Sleeping whenever she could had become a skill in itself.

A gentle shake woke her. Dax was crouched. “Time to wake up, Trekhill.”

Sure enough, a pink-orange hue had begun to glow on the horizon to the east. The other skirmishers were already in motion, stringing their bows and readying the bundles of arrows for shooting.

“When will things start?” Lys asked.

Tilledge glanced over at her. “They already have. Our men just haven’t begun to move out of the camp yet.”

She couldn’t see from far back, and she was going to have to get over her fear of the edge, so she moved forward carefully. At least they had let her keep the safety line. Peering down, she could see some sort of activity in their camp, but not much detail. It was much further than the enemy’s.

She moved back and strung her own bow. Dax passed out dried crackers and meat to everyone and they ate breakfast. The bread was tasteless and the meat was too salty. Her stomach was too knotted for her to actually be hungry.

As the dawn brightened, Dax glanced at the horizon. “Won’t be much longer now,” he said.

“Keep low if you’re going to watch. It’s getting light enough for them to see us if they look up just right,” Tilledge warned.

Lys nodded and moved to the edge and remained prone while watching. White Dragons emerged from the fortifications and the enemy camp reacted like someone had kicked an anthill.

In the distance, she could make out the ladders and large wooden shields that would act as cover for the attackers. Her gaze moved to the Irongian camp.

The position above let her see right into the camp. There were similar defensive ditches in-front of the wall filled with stakes. More than that, there was a second defense wall behind it, too. That was going to be a nightmare to storm for the attacking force.

Which she guessed partly explained why she and the others were up on a cliff.

The numbers appeared to favor her side, though. There were far less of the Rusty Lathes than White Dragons, especially after the failed assault.

Lys bit her lip and looked over her shoulder. “What happens if our side doesn’t breach the defenses? How are we going to get down?”

Tilledge met her gaze with a grim expression. “We probably aren’t.”

Oh. Well. That was a pretty big motivator to do the best they could to help.

Dax joined her at the edge, looking down at the enemy camp himself. “Focus on making every shot count. Once we run out of ammo, we won’t be getting more. Throwing rocks at the enemy isn’t going to cut it.”

Lark snorted, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “If we tried, there wouldn’t be anything left to stand on, anyway.”

Tilledge nodded, his attention focused on the battlefield below. “We’ll be targeting the enemy archers first, then the slingers and men throwing rocks from the earthworks. Make your shots count, boys.”

Lys drew an arrow from her quiver, nocking it against her bowstring. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in her hands. The fate of the cohort, and their own lives, rested on the accuracy of their arrows.