Cascade Ambush Camps Novels & Stories

The rest of our warriors fanned out, forming a perimeter to ensure no one escaped. We had the element of surprise. And I intended to use it. *** The rebel camp was in a clearing deep in the forest, it was half hidden between fallen logs and makeshift tents. Smoke rose lazily from dying fires and the scent of burning wood, meat and unwashed bodies filled the air. There were at least fifteen of them, maybe more.

He stopped three paces from the platform, bowing deeply to both thrones. "The intelligence from our mountain scouts is confirmed, my Queen," Vance announced, his voice tight with military focus. "The purist exiles have established a central command camp at the base of the Dragon’s-Tooth Pass—the narrowest throat of the Great Divide. They have gathered nearly eight thousand rogue warriors from the wild factions and have reinforced the cliffs with heavy, black-iron catapult grids loaded with refined silver-nitrate blocks. They aren't preparing a standard border defense, sir. They have activated their ancestral suppression wards and are marching toward our front lines."

Tristan stood in the observation blister at the top of the train, peering through a set of high-magnification brass binoculars. Below them, the plains were a sea of darkness, broken only by the terrifying scale of the enemy. Campfires and Aether-lamps stretched out like a fallen galaxy. Thirty thousand Imperial troops of the 4th, 7th, and 9th Legions were encamped in a massive, mathematically perfect grid. Tristan could see the silhouettes of heavy siege walkers parked in neat rows, and the sprawling complexes of the command tents. Beyond the encampment, at the narrow choke point of the Cinder Pass, the true horror of Vespera’s calculus was visible. Thousands of tiny, shivering lights marked

I made sure that one was allowed to pass, and then I asked, "how long would you stay in your city before you completely die of hunger?" I messenger from the other camp rode towards us to deliver a letter, they expected us to fight at the Beverly hills. I also did not want to go near the walls for fear of archers. I accepted the request, Lydia and Tilda were also okay with it. We were heading to Beverly hills to fight. My camp first arrived and we stationed at the eastern side, alongside Lydia's camp.

My eyes got filled with cold fury as they scanned the forest, searching for any clue or any sign of an enemy. I then turned my attention to the small, charred patch of earth where the campfire had been, its embers still smoldering. The ground was trampled and the area was a chaotic mess of broken branches and scattered supplies. It was clear that the ambush had been swift, merciless, and efficient. They had been surprised, outmaneuvered.

The roar of gunfire and the crackling of flames consumed the landscape as the ambush unfolded. Sage’s heart raced as she crouched behind the overturned SUV, the acrid smell of burning rubber and gasoline searing her lungs. The echo of shouting filled her ears as Damian barked orders to the rest of the team. “Flank left! Cover the convoy!” Damian yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. Sage peered around the edge of the vehicle, her pulse thundering in her ears. The attackers were well-hidden in the rocky hills surrounding the road, their precision indicating they were more than just hired mercenaries. These were trained operatives, likely Bancroft’s elite forces.

I breathed, the word ripping itself from my chest before I could stop it. The image was burned into my vision. The narrow valley, the makeshift encampment, the wounded and the survivors who couldn’t fight. My people. And they were about to be slaughtered. "Cassian!" I barked, slashing down a Blood Moon soldier and spinning toward him. "They’re not after us, they’re going for the rear lines. Ashridge is exposed." His eyes flicked to the eastern ridge, understanding dawning and hardening into fury. "Then we’re already too late."

This I understand. We reach the edge of the clearing. The camp is a cluster of heavy canvas tents pitched haphazardly on the muddy bank of the river. There’s a fire pit in the center. I scan the perimeter. No sentries. No movement. My gut tightens. Mercenaries are not stupid. They make their living killing for others. A camp this size should have a watch rotation. “Something’s wrong,” Alexei breathes beside me. “On my signal,” I whisper.

“Uh… great. Love that. Gonna sleep real sound tonight, thanks.” Orion leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Alright, let’s put the doom baby on the list. But before that, strategy.” Bram leaned forward, pulling a series of paper scrolls and blueprints from his bag with an enthusiasm that made Caelan flinch. “Okay, okay, so we’ve got access points, tunnels, rooftops. I’ve marked potential ambush sites. And I’ve been working on something spicy—” “No,” Caelan said immediately.

The camp had been erected quickly along the northern edge of the Ashen Pass. Fires burned low. Sentinels stood watch in rotating shifts. Horses remained restless, snorting nervously whenever the wind shifted. The valley itself felt wrong. Savannah couldn't explain it any better than that. Wrong. The mist never fully lifted. The silence never felt natural. And every few minutes, someone would swear they had seen movement among the ancient stone markers. Nobody laughed anymore. Not after the children.