Dreisterne

CHAPTER 17

The forest was too quiet.

Nathan and Keith moved with measured steps, keeping to the shadows cast by the towering pines, their ears attuned to every rustling branch, every whisper of wind that might conceal another presence. Blaine's directions had been precise, the path itself not difficult to follow, but their every step was taken on the edge of a knife. One wrong move, one snapped twig, and they could find themselves surrounded by either beast or bandit, neither of which they had the luxury of dealing with now.

Half an hour into their trek, Nathan stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing at a massive pine tree up ahead. Beneath its sprawling branches stood two figures, speaking in hushed voices. He barely had time to signal Keith before they both dove behind a thick clump of bushes, crouching low as they strained to listen.

Nathan's stomach turned when he recognised the armour worn by one of them. Von Hentzau's men. The sound of conversation drifted toward them, carried by the stillness of the forest.

"...two of those Dreisterne blokes are on the move," the armoured man muttered.

Nathan and Keith exchanged a glance, each of them feeling a chill at the pits of their stomachs.

"Aye. One's stuck in the healers' temple, though," the hooded figure replied. "The other two'll be in Uschtenheim before long."

"And the red hat?" the armoured man asked.

The hooded man shrugged. "One of ours is already there. Shouldn't be a problem."

Nathan's fingers twitched toward his sword hilt, but before he could draw it, Keith

clamped down on his wrist. His message was clear: not yet.

They listened as the hooded man spoke again, his voice taking on a more amused lilt. "The Uschtenheimers from Trevorton are on their way back for the feast tonight. The children will see them again soon enough."

The two men finished their discussion and parted ways, the hooded figure vanishing into the trees. Nathan and Keith remained motionless, waiting until the last trace of his footsteps had faded into silence. Only then did they shift their focus onto the armoured man, now walking alone down a dirt path that cut through the forest.

Keith grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Right, let's get this bastard."

They followed him, slipping between the trees, careful not to make a sound. The perfect opportunity presented itself when the man entered a clearing, a place where the dense foliage gave way to open space, where he would have fewer places to run or hide.

Keith made the first move. Stepping onto the path, he raised a hand in mock greeting. "Oi, mate! Need help, there? You look a bit lost."

The reaction was immediate. The armoured man whirled around, eyes wide for the briefest of moments before hardening into something more dangerous. His hand went straight to his belt. Nathan barely had time to shout before the man lunged with a knife, its blade catching the sunlight. Keith braced himself, but the sheer force of the tackle knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, the wind leaving his lungs in a sharp grunt. Before he could recover, the man was on top of him, knife aimed straight at his throat.

THUNK!

The blade skidded off the sleek leather surface of Keith's shield, mere inches from his face. The attacker snarled, striking again and again. Each time, Keith barely managed to deflect the blows, his arm jolting with the impact. The man was fast, too fast. If Keith's shield hadn't already been strapped to his arm, he might not have been able to block in time.

Nathan's mind raced. He needed an opening, and he found them: the hands. The bastard wore leather gloves, nothing more. A poor choice against a blade. Nathan didn't hesitate. He drew a dirk from his belt and flung it. The weapon found its mark, slicing across the attacker's sword hand. The man yelped, his grip faltering just long enough for Keith to act.