BONFIRES

Camoe knocked a dark-armored soldier’s pike thrust to the side. He followed through with a flick of his sword, jabbing under the dark helm shaped as a spiderbee’s bug-eyed head, feeling the softer flesh of the throat. He nearly missed deflecting a crossbow bolt aimed for high on his side in the process, spinning with a back swing of his sword at the last moment to deflect it away.

Several badly launched Dark User cones slammed into his personal barrier and then deflected outward. Two of them detonated near the bowman hiding behind a remnant of a sparkle fern bush. Man, bow, and bush exploded, clearing the area for the moment.

The enemy did not seem to mind the loss of a few of their own from attacks originating from their side. Some of the human druids and Valen kind on the battlefield elected to have physical protection installed and not magical.

In the past, he had thought as they. Having someone hacking at oneself with a sharp or blunt weapon seemed to trigger the instinct for protection. His solution was to learn how to defend and counterattack with his weapon of choice, whether long sword or spear with master skill, freeing his barrier for protection from long-ranged magical violence.

Gauging the flow of battle, he was alarmed that the light Durandas created had faded fast in the Vale. His men were tiring. They could not hold the enemy back in the dark, there were too many of them out there.

Camoe fought down a growing sense of panic; he had to sound the retreat now before the enemy swarmed out of the darkness. He opened his mouth to shout for his first in command to relay the order when light blazed in several spots around the Vale simultaneously. Many of the great trees had burst into flame, lit by a towering dark creation, which also burned from the waist up.

Camoe’s view of the meadow melted into an image of Durandas in the war room of the southern outpost, cutting off the din of battle with stark abruptness. The head of the Circle of Light’s left eye glowed with the bright white of the contacting. Behind Durandas, the great flor’e’falun had pulled its branches wide, giving him a dizzying window of view to the conflicts below. A winged creature he knew too well highlighted by the blazing trees beyond it flew by carrying someone dear. “Durandas! A maimwright has Jade! Behind you!”

Durandas whirled.

Camoe gazed at the scene outside the outpost, his fear mounting. With wings wholly inadequate to carry weight beyond its own, the creature struggled to maintain altitude as Jade fought. Each of her kicks and squirms caused a noticeable decline in the thing’s altitude. Nevertheless, it did not have far to go; already it had flown over half the force assaulting the Vale, making for the rear as it banked. The army moving out of the darkness toward the great falun tree halted. A widened area opened in a wave toward the rear.

A sense of hushed watchfulness descended on those below, and then another burning shape of a man, half the size of the tree, stepped upon the field. The image shook. Raising a giant foot high, the shape took a lurching step forward. The image shook again when the foot met the ground. Slowly, it raised its other foot.

Durandas turned to him, his words already ringing in Camoe’s mind before he had faced him fully. “The Vale is lost beyond all hope. Send the bulk of your men here to the base of the southern outpost; I have a mission for them. I will pass the leadership onto someone else. I want you to take a few of your most trusted and go after the anomaly vessel.”

“That burning dark creation is coming for you,” Camoe said aloud.

“Yes. We have given it all we have without allies. We shall evacuate and make for Brown Recluse. Find the anomaly, make haste, my trusted friend, losing her may have far-reaching repercussions.”

The image melted back into the war-torn meadows, the screams and cries of the wounded and dying loud in his ears after the silence of the contacting. Camoe looked around nearby, getting an assessment of the damage within the meadow’s eerie flickering light. Only a third of his company remained. He was heartened to find most were his best. The ground shook.

“What is that thing, Master Druid?” Peers asked, pointing with his longbow toward the lumbering man-shape. The dark creation’s upper torso burned with a blazing fire, but it did not seem to have any effect on the thing’s navigating. Perhaps its yellow-orange eyes could see through flames and darkness.

Briefly, Camoe wondered if Burl might have been able to see through flames with his like-colored eyes, he had been able to see in the dark, and then discarded the notion almost as soon as it formed in his mind. Such thinking was irrelevant now that Crystalyn had destroyed Jade’s companion. Blast it! Burl was his companion too, though he would not admit it to anyone. Someday he might confide in Jade, but for that to happen, he had to get her back from the rank clutches of evil by staying focused.

The creation moved straight for the southern outpost. The ground shook.

Camoe turned his back to the advancing giant. “That creation is something we shall not contend with right now. Go to the runners; tell them to sound the retreat to the outpost. Once there, all shall follow the Lore Mother.”

“But not you,” Peers said.

“No and neither are you. Once our brethren have begun moving, you and Kerna meet me at Fissure Rock. Circle wide and avoid running into the enemy.”

Peers moved away at a fast trot. “As you command, Master Druid,” hung in the dim light of the rising moon after him.

Camoe joined the fighting on the left side long enough for the enemy to shift to the right. “Long Draught, Tarn, Girth, you three come with me. The rest of you assist with moving the line back to the great falun, the Lore Mother shall lead you from there.” Camoe turned his back on the company of warriors. On the faces of those he could see, there were many questioning and worried looks, but no one spoke up. He was thankful for it. They were all good-trained men and women who likely knew he had no time for explanations. He wished he could take them all.

Circling wide and making hardly a sound, they made their way through the thickest foliage still living in the dark, working their way through by familiarity and skill. No one spoke. Soon they came to a slight incline and was reassured he was going the right way. Moving uphill, they topped out with some effort. The flora growing on it had been nearly as dense as a bramble twister had, particularly in the dim light of the moon, growing brighter as it rose.

Fissure Rock waited alone and forlorn at the peak of the little knoll. Camoe did not have to command his men to encircle it and keep a vigilant watch. Again, the thought flitted through his mind. They were good warriors and knew what to do.

Less than half a bell had passed when a soft rustle forewarned of Peers and Kerna’s arrival. Peers, the shorter of the two, carried his knives in many sheaths on both sides of his kell vest.

Kerna’s dark skin tone and shorn black hair helped hide her athletic body in the moonlight and shadows of the thick foliage. Carrying her longbow in one hand, a quiver of arrows peeked over her shoulder left bare by her uncustomary leaf dress. The flora dress surprised him until he recalled she studied under Lore Rayna and had gained the living dress only recently after bonding with the leaves.

Camoe kept his voice low. “From this point on, we travel with stealth, exercising deadly intent, considering anything moving as the enemy. If we cannot move beyond them spotting us, we dispatch them. Kerna, with her night sight, shall scout for us first. We make for the enemy’s rear camp with all haste. Does anyone have questions?”

His answer came as a mark of their training; Peers melted into the foliage after his mate Kerna. Camoe had not brought them along due to their union but for their skills. He had selected only the best of his finest warriors for this journey, hoping they were enough yet fearing they were not.

Taking a last look around, he was nearly overwhelmed with sadness. Many of the great falun trees burned including the southern outpost, the oldest and grandest. He feared the wonderful trees would all soon have the same fate of the rest, crackling as they burned or lying broken and shattered from many concerted precise strikes of Dark Flow.

The once clear and flowing Serenity Stream moved sluggishly in the moonlight, fouled by the dead and muddied by the tramp of many feet. Camoe suspected the enemy had performed some vile deed to the Silver Pools under the Misty Veil waterfall, the precious life-giving water that flowed from the heights above the Vale.

At least Kara, or worse, Maialene, was not around to view the destruction; she would not have had the strength to bear it, not his daughter. Maialene was, and always would be, a daughter of the Vale. As for Kara, he had no idea what her feelings were now. Her departure so many seasons after he returned Maialene to the one root of the Vibrant Vale still ached.

Camoe’s sadness deepened as he slipped into a patch of the few remaining greenery left on the outskirts of his beloved Vale, but he had no time for it. Someone else he cared for was in danger. This time he would ensure a better outcome than Maialene.

Taking longer than he expected, even going by only the light of the moon, he finally spotted Kerna standing motionless at the edge of the small clearing the animal trail led through, her living dress obscuring her form well beside a sapling falun tree. Peers stood a little beyond his life mate, the shadowy, too-straight lines of his swords crisscrossing at his back giving him away.

Without slowing, Camoe signaled for speed with a soft redbird call as he moved their direction. Breaking into an easy jog, Kerna’s long legs put distance between her and Peers as he burst into an easy run behind her. They slipped along the shadowy path making no sound.

Camoe did not glance behind. His warriors covering the back trail would keep up.

They ran, staying with the animal path until it veered too close to the enemy. Then, swinging north, his silent group wove among a shadowed grove of evergreen pines. Skirting the thickest patches of dark deadfall, they soon headed south and slowed. The rear command of the enemy was not far.

Peers and Kerna waited prone and motionless behind a rock outcropping. Dropping with a practiced ease to his belly, Camoe crawled the last three man-lengths to where they waited. Raising his head with care, he gazed at the enemy’s layout.

Below, nestled beside Serenity Stream, dark canvassed pavilions glowed from candlelight within, and fire pits dug in common areas provided flickering light outside. Armored soldiers grouped around the pits, and robed Dark Users clustered away from them. Every band avoided three larger, guard-patrolled tents centered at the rear.

Camoe had seen enough.

He backed away from the edge, his two scouts slipping soundlessly with him. At the trail, he looked at each of his five best warriors. They were so much more than just his elite team. Each were family. They were with him through his dark times, after Maialene. Things were about to get dark again.

How could he ask what he must of them when he suspected most, if not all, would not survive?

How could he not ask?

They were the best, and Jade needed them. Camoe knew how to ensure they would volunteer. Though he may not need to, he would anyway. “From this point forward, the danger will grow higher than any of you have experienced. I cannot ask you to go on this rescue with me, nor shall I command it. Make your way to the Lore Mother at the Southern Rim. Tell her to keep moving without me.” Camoe hated his subterfuge as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Hold on,” Peers said. “I cannot speak for everyone, yet Kerna and I are with you. Elevated danger or no, our place is with you.”

Kerna nodded vigorously, her clipped black hair hardly moving in the moonlight. “My life heart has the way of it.”

Long Draught, the largest of them all, grabbed Camoe by the shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze for all his size. “You have but to lead my friend. I will follow.”

Girth chuckled softly with little mirth. “When is the danger not great around you? You draw it to you like shadow hiding from the sun. This is why I follow. Things never get dull. I go with you.” He folded his arms at his chest. For all his width, Girth was nearly as strong and as fierce a warrior as Long Draught. Camoe would gladly have him along.

They all looked to the last member of the group, Tarn—another druid of the order of the Green Writhe though much younger—who seemed resigned by his slumped posture. “I suppose what we are after is down there inside the enemy’s camp?”

“She is down there.”

“So there is a human life involved?” Tarn asked.

Camoe nodded slowly. “Yes, there is someone important to our entire existence and very dear to me.”

Tarn grinned. “Then how could I ever refuse such a worthy adventure? Lead on, my friend, the moon will not shine as bright this point on.”

Camoe led. Hoping to circle around and move stealthily into the camp of the enemy, he would infiltrate the two larger tents from the open ground at the rear, cloaked in the shadows of the moon’s twilight. The plan was a hasty one, and tasted sour in his mouth from working on his friends’ nobility.

Flowing through the forest with only the faint whisper of a passing breeze, he put the matter from his mind. Warriors were what he required to get this job done, not friends. The fate of Astura may depend upon it.