Fifty feet away.
Forty.
Thirty.
The lead guards spotted the fallen tree and called a halt. Perfect.
Marcus caught Liz's eye across the road. She was ready, coiled like a spring, waiting for his signal.
The soldiers dismounted, discussing how to clear the obstacle. Two of them approached the fallen tree. Two stayed with the cart. The rear guards maintained their position, still watching backward.
Marcus's Soul Reading picked up a spike of fear from inside the cart. The prisoners knew something was about to happen. They could probably hear the soldiers talking, sense the change in routine.
He raised his hand slowly, making sure Liz could see.
The soldiers grabbed the fallen tree, preparing to drag it aside.
Marcus's hand dropped in a sharp cutting motion.
"On my mark."
He materialized Dagon and burst from the trees in one fluid motion. The short sword flashed into existence as his boots hit the road, closing the distance to the nearest soldier in three strides.
