Kane took the first guard down without a sound, forearm across the throat, blade in after.
Behind him, thirteen fighters held position at the treeline, waiting on his signal.
The staging camp spread out below the ridge exactly as Talyn had described it — forward barracks, supply tents in three rows, a holding pen at the north end with shapes moving behind a rope perimeter. Rear guard was light. One patrol, two men, walking a slow loop that left a gap of nearly four minutes.
"Told you," Talyn whispered, crouched beside him. "Nobody expects it from the back."
"Guard rotation still four minutes?"
"Should be. It was yesterday."
Kane raised a hand. Ottilie moved up on his left, Joren on his right, Reeve's fighters fanning out behind them in pairs.
"Supply lines first," Kane said, low. "B
