Feril clenched her fists and the tall grasses lashed out at the Knights of Takhisis*s ankles, tripping those not held fast by the trees. The roses lashed their thorny stems around the knights’ calves, and the fern leaves encircled the wrists of the knights who fell to the forest floor.
The Kagonesti felt pain intrude on her private world, the sensation of the knights fighting against the plants, trying to rip the grass from its earthy bosom. She felt what the plants felt.
But Palin was moving through the ferns now, casting an enchantment of his own. Feril kept her senses focused on the plants and was only dimly aware of the sparks of fire that flew from the sorcerer’s fingertips. Then she felt a warmth on her back and limbs, the perception of blood. Gilthanas was swinging Rig’s sword, the knights’ blood splattering the plants. The Kagonesti directed the willow birch to wrap more of its tender lengths around the knights to bind their arms.
The plants responded, moving faster now, drawing strength from Feril. The wild roses recoiled, dragging a knight into their thorny embrace. As he fought against the plant and struggled to rip off the stems, Gilthanas darted in and slew him quickly. Another knight was nearly free, squirming out of his mail shirt to elude the oak. But Palin stopped him with more sparks that struck his chest, penetrated, and made him go limp.
“Move with me” Feril was talking louder now, easing herself off the ground as she continued to direct the plants. The forest all around her was more alive than ever, moving and grasping, branches and stems lashing out like cobras, vines working like lassos. She pointed to a small patch of wild raspberries growing by the road, and in response, the coiling, reed-thin stems entwined around calves and ankles, pulling the remaining knights down. There, the moss waited, releasing an intoxicating, dizzying scent. Join with its, the moss urged the knights, relaxing them, lulling them into a restful state, which made them easy to dispatch.
Palin and Gilthanas had been forced to slay half of the men. Feril sluggishly detached her senses from the plants and staggered onto the trail. She took several deep breaths and steadied herself. The enchantment had enervated her. Four of the knights were tied with vines against the largest trees. Gilthanas was removing their boots, slicing the footwear in half with his cutlass and tossing it into the underbrush. Palin was gathering the men’s swords.
“They’ll be barefoot and weaponless,” Palin informed her. “So if they work themselves free, they’ll pose little threat. You all right?”
She nodded and smiled. “Fine. Just tired. Let’s see how your son fared.”
Ulin had freed nearly all of the prisoners by the time Feril, Palin, and Gilthanas entered the clearing. Gilthanas was carrying the knights’ weapons, and he quickly distributed them to some of the former captives. Ulin snatched up his staff and nodded to Palin, who was inspecting the charred remains of two knights.
“Let’s move out,” Gilthanas urged, pointing toward the trail that would lead back to Witdel. “We should be on our way in case there’s more of them”
“Something’s wrong ” Feril said. The Kagonesti turned about, scanning the trees that ringed the campsite, sniffing and listening intently. “There’s—”
“More knights? Reinforcements?” came a sultry voice. A stocky woman clad in a black robe stepped into the clearing. At her side were Knights of Takhisis, their weapons drawn. More knights ringed the campsite, nearly two dozen of them. Four had bows drawn and pointed at the prisoners. The stocky sorceress gestured at Gilthanas and Ulin, who flourished weapons. “Make a move to fight, and the men will loose their arrows.”
“Put down your weapons,” another knight said. This one was clearly in charge, the insignia of a subcommander visible on his shoulder.
Her eyes narrowed as she spotted Palin, and the sorceress nodded to get her commander’s attention. “Subcommander Gistere,” the robed woman said. “We have a very important person in our midst — Palin Majere.”
Gistere’s face remained impassive, but his gaze locked onto Palin’s. “Put the swords down. And you, put down the staff.” The last order was directed at Ulin. “Keep your hands where I can see them.” The officer scrutinized them. “Your weapons!” he barked.
Ulin dropped his staff, and the prisoners behind him reluctantly dropped the weapons they’d been given. Palin slowly raised his hands out to his sides, watching the knights. He knew there were more behind him, and his mind whirled with the spells he might cast. He couldn’t catch all of them in an enchantment — not without also injuring the prisoners and his companions.
Feril’s lips curled back as she dropped her arms to her sides. “How did you know we were here?” she asked, her tone venomous. “And how did you sneak up on us?”
The Knight of the Thorn took a step toward her. “There are enchantments that can make a talon move as quietly as a dying breeze, my dear wild elf,” she hissed. “It’s a spell that can stifle the clink of armor. We were to meet the men guarding these prisoners. Fortunately I sensed something was wrong. Tell me, did you slay them all?”
“Enough!” Subcommander Gistere spat at the sorceress. “We haven’t the time for this. You — I said to drop your weapon.” He was pointing at Gilthanas, who stood with his legs slightly spread, Rig’s cutlass unsheathed and at his side. “My men will fire on the prisoners — do you understand? I’ll order them to slay the unarmed women and men. Their blood will be on your spirit. I’ll give you no more warnings.”
“Don’t do it!” a new voice intruded.
Feril’s eyes grew wide as a man stepped into the clearing. He was naked except for a Knights of Takhisis tabard that was draped over him, no doubt taken from one of the knights they’d captured on the road. And he had moved so quietly because he had no boots or armor. He looked like a wildman, a mass of tangled hair and a beard.
Dhamon? Feril mouthed. Her heart beat faster.
“Dhamon?” Palin asked in disbelief.
“Another fool to join you,” Subcommander Gistere sneered. “And a fool who will die very quickly if he doesn’t put down the weapon.” The subcommander motioned to one of his archers, who trained an arrow on Dhamon’s chest.
Gilthanas looked uncertainly between Dhamon Grimwulf and the Knight of Takhisis. Dhamon kept a firm grip on the glaive and protectively stepped between Feril and the knights. A second archer drew a bead on the wildman. “Dhamon,” she breathed as he passed by.
“The Knights of Takhisis used to be noble,” Dhamon said. “Years past they wouldn’t have threatened unarmed people, used weapons of distance on foes who hadn’t the same advantage. Only fair fights.” He looked directly at Gistere and raised an eyebrow when he spotted the red scale on his lily emblem. “But that was before they chose to bow to the overlords, to serve dragons instead of men. You should order them all slain,” he said, waving his free hand at the prisoners for emphasis. “Killing them outright would be a far better fate than what’s likely in store for them.”
Gistere’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his hands to signal the archers to fire. Then instantly his eyes grew wide and he held his gesture. He felt the presence of the Red Dragon in his head, felt the scale imbedded in his chest tingle.
This one intrigues me, Malys hissed. / could use someone with the tenacity to stand up to so many of your men. I want him—alive and whole. Slay the others as a lesson.