"Well," said the archer, looking around the damaged camp, "that didn't go as expected." She spat into the coals of a burned tent, listening for the soft sizzle as her spittle boiled away.
"No," agreed the Shadow, a soft voice coming from nowhere in particular in the darkness. "He is... formidable." The archer heard the change in her voice as the Shadow grinned under her shadows and her mask. "I kind of like him."
The archer looks around again, pointedly. "I don't. He shouldn't have been here. You didn't even get near killing Prince Ravaj. Who sends out a Champion for a farmer's rebellion?"
"The Wizard-King of Teregor, apparently," answered the Shadow. "At least, he does when he's sending his heir along as well. And I did put a dagger in his belly."
The archer straightened at the sound of approaching footsteps, letting the words she would have spoken fall away. "How bad is it?"
Sorcerer-General Abdis Grenvold shook his head. "Bad," he said "Our supply train is annihilated, and we lost at least a third of the camp. Were we attacking in force, we might send out foragers and continue to advance... but the trap has failed, the enemy is alert, and our resources are low. Our remaining forces will be lucky to retreat intact."
"No," said the unseen Shadow, "You won't. I'll make sure of it."
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