Knowing he was risking capture, but burning with the need to know, Vambran circled around until he could approach the barn from the back side and, he hoped, unnoticed. He crept very carefully out of the trees and right up to the wall, which was made only of rough logs, so there were plenty of gaps. He peered inside, but the glow of the firelight was not enough to see by.
Taking a deep breath, Vambran gave a very soft whistle, the birdcall signal he was so fond of using. A form stirred very near where he crouched and mumbled something soft. Vambran whistled again, still keeping the sound very light and soft.
"What the-?" the figure grunted, sitting upright. "Who's there?" the man mumbled, trying to whisper.
"Lieutenant Vambran. What's your name?"
"By Waukeen, Lieutenant, it's sure good to hear your voice!" It was Hort "Old Bloagy" Bloagermun, and he was speaking too loudly.
"Shh!" Vambran warned in a whisper, glancing around to see if the sentries had heard anything. "Keep your voice down!"
"Sorry, sir," Hort whispered back, obviously fully awake by then. "What's going on?"
"A few Crescents and I are in the woods, just beyond the camp here. How'd you wind up in there?"
Hort told Vambran the tale of his capture, along with the others. He did a quick listing of the men included, and when he named off Kovrim, Vambran felt his shoulders sag in profound relief.
"That's great news, soldier," he whispered. "We're going to figure out a way to get you out of there, but sit tight. Don't even wake the rest of the men up, yet. Do you understand?"
"Aye, sir," Hort replied.
"I'll be back soon," Vambran said then turned and crept away. Elation made the man want to move quickly, but he dared not let it get the best of him, so he very carefully backtracked to the point where he had left his companions.
"I found more Crescents," he began, but before he could finish, he realized that the other five were not alone. Numerous figures rose up from behind trees or bushes, surrounding Vambran and his companions. Instinctively, Vambran reached for his sword.
"Don't," came a soft voice from behind him, and a curved blade was laid across his neck at an angle. "You won't make it."
Vambran froze. At first, he thought the trackers had caught up to them, but as he turned slowly to get a better look, he realized that all of the newcomers were covered in plants and branches. The blade at his throat was a scimitar.
Druids!
Before Vambran could reveal his observation, however, a large shout rose up from the camp.
"It's begun," the figure still holding the scimitar against the lieutenant said. "We must hurry."
"What's begun?" Vambran demanded.
"Your doom," the druid replied.
Something slammed hard against the back of Vambran's head, and the world turned upside down before fading away.
CHAPTER 11
Kovrim was startled awake by sudden noise, but for a moment, he could not remember where he was. Then the foggy remnants of sleep began to clear, and the mercenary recalled how he'd come to be locked inside a very old barn with several other soldiers. As he sat up and peered around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the priest could hear shouting and the beginnings of some sort of scuffle just beyond the walls of the barn, and he realized that the fighting was what had awakened him.
"What's going on?" Kovrim asked of no one in particular, standing and stretching as he observed many of the rest of the dozen Crescents standing or kneeling, peering through gaps in the log wall.
"Lieutenant Matrell is out there," Hort Bloagermun said, turning toward Kovrim. "He said he and some other Crescents were in the forest, and they were going to try to free us!"
"What?" Kovrim said, not sure he had heard correctly. "Vambran's here?"
"Aye, sir," Old Bloagy replied, still pressing one eye to the wall. "He crept up to the wall here and spoke with me just a few moments ago."
Kovrim realized his knees were shaking in relief. Vambran was alive! He was mounting a rescue attempt!
But then, Kovrim began to frown, for he could see no way for such a plan to succeed. The old mercenary knew how many soldiers had been with the company aboard the ship, and how many Vambran was likely to have remaining under his command. It was a pitiful number to take up against the entire army gathered in the clearing where he and the other Crescents were being held. It was foolish to try a head-on assault, and Vambran would know that, too. Kovrim's nephew was no fool.
"No, something else is happening," Kovrim announced, moving to the wall to get a look. "Vambran may be out there, but this is not his work. He wouldn't try to attack the entire silver raven contingent this way. They must have been spotted out in the woods."
"Those aren't Crescents out there," another soldier reported from the opposite wall. "Someone else is attacking the camp."
Kovrim switched positions to get a better look. In the dim light of the embers of the many fires, he could see very little, but the motion all around the clearing was continuous, and he could occasionally make out a figure leaping up from the shadows, pouncing on a soldier of the silver raven group. The sound of the fighting grew louder as more of the attacking force poured into the camp.
Nearby, the guards standing watch at the door to the barn cried out, and Kovrim raced over to see what had become of them. Three silhouettes were arrayed against the pair of mercenaries, all of them dressed in crude, natural clothing and swinging curved blades. One of the figures was an elf.
"Druids," Kovrim said, understanding at last. "They're attacking the logging operation."
"Maybe they'll free us," another soldier said. "We should shout to let them know we're in here!"
Kovrim started to protest such a notion, figuring the druids were well aware of the Crescents' predicament and unlikely to do much about it. The veteran soldier had campaigned against the druids during his years of service, and he knew that the woodland people did not distinguish between rival bands of mercenaries, and the Sapphire Crescents certainly appeared to be a rival band. To them, every soldier was an enemy of the trees, and it was doubtful those attacking the camp that night would have any concern for the plight of the dozen prisoners inside the barn. If they escaped, the woodland folk might even turn on them, as well.
Kovrim was forming up a plan to get the men out himself, but it would require good timing. "Get ready to flee when the right moment comes," he ordered, causing a stir all around him as he moved toward the door. "You'll know when that is," he promised them.
The three druids overwhelmed the pair of guards in front of the barn, but they did not turn their attention to the prisoners, as Kovrim had suspected. Instead, they melted into the shadows again, leaving the men inside to grumble and wonder aloud why they had been ignored.
The fighting raged on, with shouting, horses whinnying in alarm, and the ring of steel on steel everywhere. Kovrim began to think that the druids would win the contest, for it seemed to him as he watched that there were more and more of them and fewer of the silver ravens. That's when he decided it was time to act.
Uttering a simple phrase, he instantly found himself on the opposite side of the door, standing next to the bodies of the downed guards. The priest grabbed the log that had been used to bar the door and shoved it aside, prepared to open the portal and lead the Crescents into the woods beyond the camp.
But the blaring sound of horns began ringing out through the forest. The clarion call echoed from down the path the Crescents had followed upon arriving at the camp. Kovrim turned just in time to spot a contingent of cavalry bursting into the clearing, charging ahead to attack the scattered, ill-equipped druids. Behind the cavalry, a large force of infantry marched into view, a wide column of troops who maneuvered precisely into a skirmish line and moved through the camp at a steady if not spectacular pace.