The Heartstone Saga

figure out a plan of attack once he pulls off his scheme.”
Adrian sighed.
“So… nobody is going to try and talk me out of it?” He lamented to himself.
Finished with her needles, the Witch came over to kiss him on the cheek and pat his shoulder.
There there.

Chapter 8: Sneaking, Flirting, Killing
It took the Amazons and Trogs until just after dawn to finalize everything and prepare for the attack.
It was convenient timing, as the growing light made the tired sentries less attentive while they waited impatiently for someone to relieve them.
Alcaia knew that this was the hardest part: the waiting, but she was disciplined enough to endure it, and through her example, so too were her warriors.
On the opposite side of the clearing from where she and her girls were hidden she could see the crude bulwark around the gatling, the men manning it fatigued but ready to unleash the weapon at a moment’s notice.
Her grip on her spear tightened as she glared death at the oblivious men, but still she waited.
At the bottom of the gulley Adrian was a taut bundle of nerves, his experience with the Aegis nothing like what he was about to attempt, so he took several deep and steadying breaths, his eyes closing.
If he failed so many of the monster girls depending on him, perhaps even all of them, would die.
Which meant he could not fail.
His thoughts darkened as he realized exactly how far he was willing to go to get the job done.
Because his plan only extended as far as getting into the camp, he had nothing for after that.
A strange sort of tranquility descended on him when he accepted that so long as he could destroy the lost-tech weapons, the sole reason he and his team were sent into the wilds to begin with, he really didn’t care about coming back out again.
With that settled, his eyes flew open and he was moving.
He scrambled up the dirt and roots quickly, using his hands as much as his feet to climb up.
To his consternation though, someone called to him from above.
“Oi! Who is that?”
“Get over here you idiot!” He shouted back in a harsh whisper without thinking; “They’re coming!”
“Shit! Where?!”
By this point he had reached the top of the gulley and was right in front of the alarmed and armed sentry.
At that moment what kept Adrian alive was the continuing distrust between the two factions within the camp, because when he spoke of danger the man looked inwards instead of out, and so was looking away from him.
Adrian grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into a shoulder throw that he hadn’t used since his days at the academy, rolling the man over his back and into a nasty tumble down the gulley.
He didn’t stick around to see if he was okay.
Instead he forced himself to slow down, and walk out of the trees, expecting at any moment to be challenged or simply shot as he did his best to blend in with the coarse group complaining about the early hour.
Half of them were still asleep, but with the rising light even the most exhausted among them were beginning to stir.
Adrian’s heart was hammering in his throat as he casually scanned around the camp while picking his way towards the crates.
Then his foot caught on something, a man’s bare foot, sticking out of one of the crude lean-tos.
“Whozzat?” The sleepy occupant demanded.
“Shut up if you know what’s good for ya.” He replied in a hoarse voice, flying by the seat of his pants again.
“Mmm’kay.” The drowsy man grumbled; “Five more minutes.”
Adrian couldn’t believe he was still alive.
His eyes found the crates: at least twenty of them in various sizes, piled up to be just short of his height.
They were forty feet away, and still no one challenged him.
If he’d been running or sneaking, someone might have taken notice, but he moved with such casual purpose that the few that looked up at him accepted it without a second thought.
Thirty feet.
He heard a harsh cough from nearby, followed by the distinctly unpleasant sound of someone relieving themselves in the dirt.
His face twisted in disgust at the man pissing so close to where everyone was sleeping, but he kept moving.
Now ten feet from the crates.
Adrian forced himself to stop again, stretching out his arms and scratching at his stomach as if he had just woken up; he faked a yawn and shifted his neck around to see if anyone had noticed him yet.
Still alive.
He walked over to the crates and sat on one of them, putting his back against another as he brought his foot up, making a show of fixing his boot while surreptitiously looking around.
No one was paying him any attention at all, so he twisted in his seat and set to work.
His hands steady despite his nerves, he pulled his pliers off his belt and began to pry one of the wooden slats off the side of the box he had been leaning against.
To the casual observer it seemed like he was just absently carving his name into it.
Once the wood came free he spotted exactly what he was hoping to find inside.
It was full of blaster power cells.
The Aegis mechanist pulled one out, having to wiggle it back and forth to get it free of the orderly stack within the box, then wiped the sweat out of his eyes before continuing.
“This is by far the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” He muttered to himself as he worked the tip of his pliers into the casing of the cell.
“Seemed pretty stupid to me too.” A coarse voice said from beside him.
He froze when he felt the muzzle