He had a feeling that the enemy would not be kind enough to let him get there so quickly though. They had their weak to protect, after all. The second Jok destroyed what was important to them – their women, and their children – their reason to fight would die.
His men shifted uncomfortably as they advanced forward, their steps slow and deliberate. The darkness was oily. He was sure the light of a fire used to reach further than this – it was as though he had to physically beat back the darkness with each step for each time they advanced forward.
He heard a man's stolen chainmail clink as he turned rapidly at his neck to look into the shadows. The twitchiness of his men reminded him of dogs brought for the hunt whenever there was a dangerous enemy nearby.
He began to scan the shadows with them. One of his men held out a torch to alight the thatching of the next house. Jok caught the glint of steel. A pair of golden eyes stared at him. He froze in place, unable to give the order.
And then, just like that, the torchlight vanished, along too with the man's head. He fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood, clutching the wooden shaft that remained of his torch.
"It's the boy!" Jok realized, recognizing the eyes. They didn't feel like the eyes of the boy, they felt closer than they were, but it was the eyes of the boy nonetheless. "In the gap between the two houses!"
.net
It wasn't an order that he gave them, it was merely an alert, warning his men against the danger. They didn't realize that though. A group of five dispatched from the rest, daring to plunge into the shadows after him.
Jok heard the sound of fighting a moment later. Followed by the sound of screaming, and then bodies falling... And then there was nothing.
He killed those five men, and once more retreated back into the shadows. He circled around the edge of the house on quiet feet, set to choose his next target.
The whole Yarmdon army was frozen in place. They were still eyeing that gap between the two houses, the gap where darkness reigned.
"Get some light over there, damn it!" Jok ordered. One man came rushing over with one of the few torches that they had left. He slowed the further he came to the gap. Another ten men went with him, penetrating the darkness.
The whole army was forced to watch and wait.
"There's... nothing," the man called out. Jok twisted his face, he had expected as much. No one would be fool enough to stand in one place after an attack like that. His whole army was halted. His mind was halted. He felt like he'd been plunged into a bind.
Those damn eyes, they'd frozen his mind half in place.
He nicked his hand on the edge of his sword, drawing blood. The pain stung. He'd sliced deeper than he'd expected. The blood ran warm over his hand. But it had served its purpose. With the pain, he freed up his mind once more, startling his nervous system out of that cycle of fear.
"This is it then," he realized, his mind calming. The boy had revealed his hand with that first attack. He had no intention of letting them march deeper into the village. He meant to do battle here.
To accent that thought, just as Jok's man was about to alight the roof of that house, having failed to identify a target... an arrow went flying, punching him through the back of his head, and coming out of his eye.