Landmoor



Thealos had never felt so afraid in his life. Forbidden magic. Everywhere. The smell of it was thick and putrid in his nose, overwhelming in its intensity. The stain of it was throughout the Bandit camp, laced in the mud and cinders and groaning coughs of the sick. He felt its effects leeching the life out of the camp. As they had entered the army, the men were stronger. But near the center of the Shoreland regiment, the presence of true Firekin was thicker than the mud clinging at his boots.

He was amazed that no one had challenged them yet. Maybe it was the stinging smoke from hundreds of campfires. Maybe it was sleep and ale. Getting past the Kiran Thall at the perimeter was almost too easy. Jaerod had taken Allavin along with him, and both had returned moments later, beckoning them on in silence. Thealos had never felt so much tension in his life. At any moment, someone would call out in warning and the chase would be on. Waiting for that moment was agonizing. Thus far, Jaerod’s plan had been flawless. They walked quietly through the camp, stepping around the sleeping soldiers and steering wide of the command pavilions in the center. Jaerod had been through the camp himself and picked out the path he had chosen earlier.

“Who in blazes…?” a voice rang out before an arrow whistled and dropped the man with a grunt. Allavin had another arrow ready instantly.

“Over there! Do you see them? Intruders!”

“Run!” Jaerod ordered, and the chase began. Arrows lanced out at the soldiers who had spotted them, but the alarm had been raised at last. As a group, they started a quick jog together. The Sleepwalker’s advice burned in his memory. Create chaos and confusion in the darkness. The Bandits would start fighting themselves. Thealos turned and shot an arrow into a smoldering firepit as he had with Tannon’s band. A shower of sparks erupted, causing curses and shrieks from the soldiers sleeping nearby.

“Right flank! Thealos!” Allavin shouted out, dropping another soldier with an arrow to the man’s throat.

“Got them!” Thealos shouted, swallowing to keep from vomiting. He gripped the riser of his hunting bow and drew another bodkin arrow back, sighting a Bandit commander’s mail shirt before letting it fly. He reached for another arrow and dropped the other soldier with a solid shot to the leg. The man stumbled and cursed, grabbing the shaft that crippled him.

“You Shaden rook!” a Bandit yelled from behind him, and Thealos whirled, using the bow to block the sword thrust. Before he could grab at his blade, Thealos watched Flent score the man across the back, sending him crashing into the churn of Shoreland mud. The Drugaen nodded for him to follow, and Thealos pressed behind him into the camp.

The alarm went up like wildfire as they ran. All around them, the soldiers were waking, emerging from tents and hurrying to fix their hauberks in place. It was madness. And if that wasn’t enough, the reek of Forbidden magic was so strong he could barely think.

Sturnin Goff and Jaerod cleared the path ahead, their blades scything through the Bandit sentries who opposed them. Allavin held back with Justin and ‘Stasy, keeping a steady rain of arrows on whoever charged at their flanks.

Thealos gasped, staring at the dead Kiran Thall sprawled in the wake of the Sleepwalker and the knight. Command pavilions came alight with lanterns and torch-fire. Thealos wanted to look everywhere at once, but he couldn’t. His courage wilted under the danger, and he felt like dropping his bow and sprinting with all his might.

“Come on,” Flent said, tugging at Thealos’ arm to keep him from losing the rest of the group. The Drugaen’s face dripped with sweat. His hazel eyes narrowed as another rush of Bandits came at their rear. Swinging the axe up, he prepared for the fight.

Thealos felt a prickle of Earth magic just before the ground turned into a stinking black morass and trapped the attackers. The Bandits let out startled yelps and sunk into it, and they were soon covered in black, tarry mud. Thealos glanced over his shoulder and saw Justin looking at the Bandits, his thin arms lowering.