Watchtower

Razha leads Nadia up the mountainside on a path invisible from the road, through a dense pine grove. She stays within the shrinking shadows of the trees as much as possible, and Nadia follows her in her footsteps to minimize their trail. In case hiding from sight should fail them, they rely equally on silence, careful not to so much as step on a twig or startle a bird.

After crawling on the peat soil beneath a series of low hanging branches, Nadia stops and checks her watch. They have plenty of time left to reach their destination, no need for foolish haste. They arrive at 3:55, twenty minutes before the operation will begin. Until then, they lie still in the thick bushes just a few Length away from the target.

The structure is a single circular room of fortified concrete sitting atop a rust-covered steel latticework tower with four concrete support beams, all crawling with wilted green ivy and black blight-vines. The mountains and the blight are fighting over this structure even as the Empire continues to use it. A rusty iron ladder is the only way up, and the only part of the structure kept clear of the deadly vines. The telegraph line connects to either side of the tower, stretching between poles set across the mountainside through bare paths--scars upon the forest.

Nadia watches the small windows for signs of movement. She signs to Razha, “Two men, at least.”

“Two is standard for this outpost,” Razha signs.

“I see arms, long rifles,” Nadia signs.

“Not only lookouts, but snipers,” Razha says.

Nadia checks her watch, 5:70, five minutes left.

Razha signs, “We can’t climb up unnoticed, and we’ll be at their mercy on the ladder.”

“Then they must come to us,” Nadia signs back.

Razha reaches into a pouch on her bandolier and hands Nadia a small paper ball, affixed with a fuse.

“You’re the quiet one,” Razha signs.

“Where?” Nadia signs.

Razha points to the bottom of the concrete box, where at the top of the rusty ladder is an open trap door. She signs, “It’s hot inside those little fortresses, they leave every door open they can.” Carefully laid plans of engineers undone by the human need for comfort once again.

Nadia reaches behind her back and pulls her slingshot from her belt. Past voices echo in her head--why do you carry that, Nadia? When will you ever need such a thing? She smiles and sets the bomb against its leather pad.

Razha wraps her scarf over her mouth and nose, pulling it tight. Nadia pulls her grey bandana up to rest on her nose. She checks her watch. 5:74. She looks Razha in the eyes an signs, “One minute.”

Razha pulls her sword-bayonet from its sheath, careful not to make a sound, and attaches it to Reverie’s end. She signs, “Ready.”

Nadia pulls back on the elastic cord, taking aim, and gestures to the bomb with her head. Razha strikes a match and sets it to the fuse.

Then Nadia bursts out of her cover, charging for the base of the tower as she raises her aim, stopping when she is almost underneath. She releases the bomb, sparks flying from the short fuse. It strikes the side of the opening. Nadia’s fists and her jaw tighten as she watches it bounce off. But it lands safely inside the room, just as its fuse runs out. In seconds, white smoke pours from the little windows.

“K! R! A!” Nadia shouts, returning her slingshot to her belt and drawing her knives.

Razha rushes out to the base of the ladder, with her rifle pointed up. With its forearm-length blade attached, the weapon is taller than she is, practically a polearm.

A man in a white coat emerges from the cloud of white smoke, coughing and covering his eyes as he clambers down the ladder. He doesn’t even see Razha before she spears him through the back. With the amount of blood flowing down her blade she must have pierced the heart. In a smooth motion, she wrests his flailing body from the ladder and slams it into the ground.

“K! R! A!” Razha echoes.

The second man hears his comrade’s scream and sees Razha pull her blade from his body. He throws himself from the ladder, beyond her reach, and his legs hit the ground to the cracking of bone. Creeping out from under the tower, Nadia puts an end to his screams with a knife in his throat.

“The only good sentinels,” Nadia says, wiping her blade clean on the man’s pristine white coat.

“Dead sentinels.” Razha loads a charge of white powder into Reverie’s chamber and slams the lever down.

“I will go cut that telegraph wire,” Nadia says, mounting the ladder.

“Signaling the strike team now.” She aims at the sky and fires a bright flare up above the mountain.