Karzak Skytalon's Arc

Chapter 9 of 10

Karzak sharpened his blade against stone, the scraping sound steady in the quiet. Eight days until the new moon. Eight days to prepare for an ambush that could end the hunt. He needed supplies, weapons in good condition, and a clear mind. The warlord had escaped before because Karzak had rushed in without proper planning. Commander Thrace would have called that arrogance. This time would be different. He checked his armor for weak points and replaced two cracked buckles. His provisions needed restocking—dried meat, water, medical supplies for wounds. The route east would take four days if he moved fast, giving him time to scout the location and set his trap. Everything had to be ready before he left. No mistakes. No distractions. Just preparation and patience. The warlord's pattern was clear now, and Karzak would be waiting when he arrived. One thing remained. He needed skilled blades at his side—warriors who could hold a position and wouldn't break when the warlord's forces struck. Karzak commissioned a banner and hauled the metal pole to the Spire entrance himself. The tattered cloth showed the troll general in battle stance, fierce and unmistakable. He planted it where every mercenary and soldier would see it. Word would spread. Warriors seeking glory would come, and Karzak would choose the ones with steady hands and cold eyes. The banner caught wind and snapped loudly above the traffic below. Karzak studied it for a moment, then turned away. His gear was packed. His route was memorized. The ambush site waited in the eastern valleys. Commander Thrace had died because the warlord fought with numbers and cunning. Karzak would match both now. The hunt had taken years, but the pieces were finally in position. In four days, he would leave. In eight, the warlord would walk into the trap. Everything was ready. Three warriors arrived by midday. Their red feathers caught sunlight as they descended, blue crests sharp against the sky. They landed in formation, armor polished and weapons visible. Karzak circled them slowly, studying posture and scars. These weren't glory-seekers. They moved like soldiers who understood ambush tactics. He tested them in the training yard—strike patterns, defense holds, coordinated attacks. They worked together without speaking, adjusting positions as he changed tactics. When one stumbled, the others covered the gap. Karzak watched their eyes during the final drill. No panic. No hesitation. Just focus. He dismissed the others who had gathered to watch. These three would do. They knew how to hold ground when chaos struck, and they wouldn't scatter when the warlord's forces charged. Commander Thrace had taught him that wars were won by warriors who stayed when fear demanded retreat. Karzak nodded once, and the three stepped forward. The ambush team was complete. The final piece locked into place, and the hunt moved closer to its end. A messenger arrived at dawn carrying debris from a supply raid near the eastern pass. Karzak spread the items across his table—torn leather, broken arrows, and a compass with cracked glass. Troll carvings covered the metal casing. He turned it over in his talons, studying the patterns. The warlord's forces had moved through that area within the last two days. The compass confirmed the route Karzak had predicted. His trap was positioned correctly. He showed the compass to his three warriors and traced the supply route on his map. They nodded, understanding what it meant. The warlord was already moving toward them, following the same pattern he always did. Karzak packed the compass with his gear. In three days, they would leave. In seven, the warlord would arrive at the ambush site. Everything Commander Thrace had taught him about patience and preparation had led to this moment. The hunt was no longer a chase. It had become an execution.