Smoke from a hundred rifles still hung over the oasis when Swen reached the edge of the camp. The ground rose unevenly beneath him, forcing him to judge each step before he committed his weight. He kept his pistol forward and moved through the haze at a steady run.
The first volley had done its work. Now they needed to finish the camp before the defenders reorganized.
The smoke thinned as the company crossed into the tents.
The group closest to the water had absorbed the worst of the rifle fire. Three men were already down within a few yards of the pool.
One lay face-first in the dirt. The exit wound between his shoulder showed the shot had passed through at nearly full force, dark blood spreading steadily through the cloth around it.
Another man lay on his side with both hands pressed against what remained of his face. The shot had entered through the left cheek. The rest of the damage explained itself.
