Alazir's eyes flicked open, and he inhaled sharply through the nose, taking the cool night air of the desert. He lay still, staring at the ceiling of the tent, letting his mind catch up with reality. Before he could dwell too much on the dreams, he heard voices and muffled footfalls out in the camp. He picked out the voices of the guards, barely audible; they were making an effort to keep quiet, but something was happening. He could hear the urgency.
Rolling over, he slowly got to his feet. There wasn't enough moonlight to provide any silhouettes, but it sounded as if they were moving through the center of camp. Pushing the tent flaps tentatively apart, he found that no one was guarding it. He peeked out further and was just able to make out a man being half carried between the tents by another pair of warriors, but they quickly disappeared from sight towards Cyrus' tent. Keeping low, Alazir crept out into the night behind them. For the former scout captain, moving quietly was second nature, and he closed the distance to just a few meters by the time the wounded man and his companions reached Cyrus' open tent. Slipping into the shadow of the tent wall, he waited.
"What in blazes happened?" demanded Cyrus' voice, "This is a poor way to start a report!"
"Captain," started one of the men over his wounded companion's groans, "Ganim here was ambushed by Dominion soldiers. He barely made it out, and we've only just managed to stay ahead of them."
"You mean to tell me that not only are the elves nearby, but you've led them here?" Cyrus voice rose, and with good reason. Their small camp couldn't chance discovery.
"No! No, we were more careful than that. It took us about a day to lose them, but they're massing quickly. It won't be long before they're pushing us toward the desert."
"With what? A company? They couldn't move us with such small numbers."
"It's... more like the bulk of the Aldmeri invasion, Cyrus. One of their captains mentioned coming all the way from Gilane. It seems that only Hegathe still stands against them south of the Alik'r."
There was silence in the tent. Alazir knew that Cyrus was trying to process this news, because he was doing the same. Had Hammerfell been so quickly defeated? If the elves were as close as the scout thought they were, they would find Cyrus' camp within a week, especially once they discovered the remains of their own company. Of course, the Redguard would be gone by then, but to where? The Desert? It took weeks for a small caravan to cross the Alik'r. For an entire war camp, it would be months. Not even the nomads who lived there could endure that long without finding an oasis, or returning to civilization for supplies. His musing was interrupted by Cyrus' voice.
"And you, what's your story?"
Alazir's brow furrowed. Was the other scout not one of their own?
"I am Athoda. I am...was...a scout under Stald. We were camped a few days northwest of Hegathe."
"How did you end up all the way out here?" Cyrus asked, the tone of his voice leaving no doubt that he already had a pretty good idea.
"A detachment of the elves laying seige to Hegathe. Our scouts saw them too late, and they destroyed our camp. I am the only survivor. There was another war camp, led by nomads, between there and here, but they had also been destroyed when I found them. I encountered your men as they were escaping that ambush, helped them along."
"Then you have my thanks, Athoda, and that of my men, I'm sure."
"Captain..." the first scout ventured.
"We don't have many options. The last I heard, our Imperial allies were already planning to regroup near the Halls at Skaven."
Alazir almost scoffed aloud, and he heard small noises of incredulity from the scouts inside.
"Captain Cyrus," Athoda said slowly, "Skaven is on the other side of the Alik'r. There is no place with supplies within reach except for those the Dominion armies hold. To cross the desert now will condemn many to death."
When Cyrus spoke, Alazir could easily imagine the hard determination in his face.
"Let those that live avenge them. We march at nightfall tomorrow." He sighed, as if pressed by the weight of the death sentence he was pronouncing on his own men, "See to Ganim's wounds. He will need to be fit to walk on his own tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
The three scouts emerged from the tent, and Alazir retreated further into shadows, watching their backs as they wound through the camp. Sudden footsteps close by snapped his attention back to the tent. Cyrus stepped out, looking somberly at his command. He heaved another long sigh, then turned suddenly, suspicion stamped on his features. But the shadows were empty. Shaking his head, he went back inside.
"You need to move the camp now, Cyrus."
"Gods damn you, Alazir!" Cyrus jumped at the voice and the sight of his least favorite warrior seated in his chair, "What are you doing here?"
"Counseling. The elves will still have search parties out there looking for scouts. Ranging out a day beyond the main force is nothing to a good scout. They'll find us, regardless of how well a wounded man and his weary comrades think they covered their tracks. If we aren't ready to fight and move, they will overrun us."
"Know your place, Ugakta," Cyrus hissed, "It is not here."
For a moment, it looked like Alazir would offer a retort, but he grudgingly shook his head and turned to go.
"Their blood on your hands," Cyrus heard him say as he disappeared into the dark of the camp.
~~~
Slipping into the armorer's tent was easy. The guard was hunched over his spear, rocking very slightly back and forth, appearing to all the world to be deep in sleep. He'd catch a lashing from Cyrus if he saw it, but Alazir was sure other matters were weighing on his mind. They shouldn't have. Security was the obvious first concern. If the elves were coming, the guard should have been doubled. The scouts, too.
Alazir stared at the guard's back for a few moments to make sure he wouldn't turn. For himself, he didn't trust appearances. Feigning sleep was something he himself had done on more than one occasion, to give adversaries the false confidence they needed to make a mistake. Alazir knew better, and moved towards the weapons with carefully placed footing. He wouldn't be able to get away with any armor; the noise would likely get him caught. He did manage to quickly find his familiar axes, lifting them carefully from their leather wrapping. He stared at the blades for a moment. It would be easy enough to slip out of the camp, hunt the elves himself. It wouldn't change that they would find the Redguard camp, and sooner rather than later. But another thought occurred to him. He glanced around the tent and spotted what he was looking for. Slipping his axes silently into his belt, he grabbed a long roll of leather before leaving the way he had come.
~~~
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