Blood of the Forgotten Gods

Chapter 19 - Into the Unknown

The air was thick with tension as Dan and the rest of the squad made their way westward, their boots sinking into the mud with every step. The fog clung to the forest like a veil, making it hard to see more than a few paces ahead. The trail was narrow, flanked by twisted trees and brambles, and the remnants of the recent storm still hung heavy in the air. Every breath tasted of damp earth and rain, and the quiet around them felt unnatural, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

Dan's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing as he followed Sergeant Vale. The mercenaries had Captain Corvin. They knew that now, but the why—and the where—was still shrouded in mystery. The dying militant's words had given them a direction, pointing them toward the old ruins, but it didn't make the situation any less desperate.

Corvin had been taken alive, and that meant something—something far more dangerous than the typical bandit ambush. The Ironfang Company wasn't just any group of hired thugs. They were infamous, feared across Elyndor for their brutal tactics and ruthless efficiency. And the fact that they had targeted Corvin specifically only raised more questions.

"What do they want with the captain?" Gareth muttered beside Dan, his voice low, barely audible over the squelching of their boots in the mud. "Why take him alive?"

Dan shook his head, his eyes scanning the fog-shrouded trees. "I don't know. But whoever hired the Ironfangs has something big planned. This isn't just about ransom or revenge."

Tomas, who had been silent for most of the journey, glanced back at them. "We're walking into something dark, aren't we?"

Dan nodded grimly. "Feels that way."

Sergeant Vale moved ahead of the squad, his expression unreadable but his posture tense. He had given the order to move quickly, pushing the squad toward the ruins beyond Iron Hollow, a known hideout for criminals and mercenaries. The old fortress, abandoned since the fall of the Forgotten Kingdoms, was a place few dared to venture. It was said to be haunted by the ghosts of the past—shadows of an era long gone, twisted by the lingering magic of the ancient world.

Dan could feel the unease in the air, not just from the forest, but from the men around him. The squad was quiet, their usual banter replaced with a heavy silence, as if they all knew they were stepping into something far more dangerous than they had prepared for.

As they pressed on, Dan's mind churned with questions. Who was behind this? The Ironfangs didn't work without payment, and someone with power had hired them. Whoever it was had orchestrated this ambush with precision—waiting for Corvin's squad, taking him alive, and killing most of his men. It was too well-planned to be a random attack.

His thoughts turned to the ruins, the supposed destination. If the Ironfangs had taken Corvin there, it meant they had a base in the area—an old fortress, hidden from the reach of Westwatch's patrols. It made sense. The ruins were isolated, and the terrain surrounding it was difficult to navigate. Perfect for mercenaries looking to hide—and to hold a prisoner.

Dan glanced at Sergeant Vale, who hadn't said much since the dying militant had revealed Corvin's capture. Vale was a good leader, but even he couldn't mask the worry that crept into his eyes every now and then. This wasn't just another mission. This was something far more personal. Corvin was more than just their captain—he was their anchor. And now he was in enemy hands.

The squad pressed forward, their pace quickening as the mist thickened around them. Every now and then, Dan caught a glimpse of movement in the trees—branches swaying, shadows darting just beyond his field of vision. His hand tightened on his sword hilt, his nerves on edge.