"No!" Miro shook his head as one of the Dunfolk ran out of the trees, a wicked hunting knife in his hand. The small man reached the nightshade and started to hack at the creepers at its base. Faster than it had moved thus far, the arm-like branch at the nightshade's side shot out as it picked the hunter up around the waist with hooked wooden fingers. A second arm appeared and grabbed hold of the hunter's lower half, the two limbs pulling until Miro heard a great tearing sound and the screaming warrior was torn in two. The nightshade threw the two pieces into the river and continued forward, arrows hitting it in a continuous hail.
Once the way forward was clear, the second nightshade followed, the great trunk swaying as it moved across the scattered trees and branches, water streaming from its base as it moved through the river.
Miro looked again at his zenblade. The slightly curved sword shone silver in the afternoon sunlight. He held the hilt in both hands and ran his eyes across the symbols that covered it from one end to the other.
Ella had made this zenblade, just as she had made his armoursilk, soon after the battle at the Sutanesta where she had astonished even master enchanters with her skill. There was no one Miro would trust more with his life.
And, Ella being Ella, she had added some new matrices to the zenblade and given Miro's armoursilk new properties. A bladesinger's song was complex, and Miro had been fearful to add so many activations, but he now felt that this was the time to try the new abilities out.
Miro opened his mouth and started his chant. Rather than building up to it, he pushed himself to direct his song straight to the most powerful sequences of all, where he would turn the zenblade blue and his armoursilk would blaze like lightning.
As the light of the runes lit up the forest the bigger nightshade's malevolent eyes turned. The creature's arms came out, the fingers clacking together, and Miro knew the nightshade had seen him.
Fear hit him with sudden force. Miro voice shook and his song faltered, until with a croak he stopped, and it was gone altogether.
The armoursilk went dead, leaving Miro as defenceless as a newborn babe. The zenblade was now just a sharp sword. Against the nightshade it would be like chopping wood with a bread knife.
The nightshade moved forward, reaching the bank where Miro stood paralysed and pushing itself up to its full height, towering over Miro even as its base stood in the water below him. An arm came at him, faster than he would have thought possible, and Miro ducked and rolled, feeling the horrible fingers pluck at his armoursilk and tear at his long hair.
The movement kicked Miro into action. Suddenly he remembered the basic song of his zenblade, the core activations of his armoursilk. Ella's complex sequences were beyond him, but the next time the nightshade came at him he swung at one of the fingers, taking it off half-way.
The nightshade reared up and for the first time Miro saw the appendages at its base leave the ground, water spilling and the ground heaving as it smashed back to the ground with the force of an earthquake.
Miro decided to buy himself some time and jumped onto a half-fallen trunk, leaping to a second log and then a third, heading deeper into the thick forest. He finally paused in the crook of a huge tree and turned back.
The great arm came at him and Miro dropped, the nightshade's hand smashing into where he had been just a moment before. He fell heavily to the ground, and rolled onto his back.
The nightshade loomed over him; the creature could move with a speed that belied its size. Miro hurriedly picked himself up and for the first time faced up to the massive living tree. He added to the song of his zenblade, leaving only lightness and agility in the armoursilk, and the shining sword shifted hue from red to violet. Miro sang as he leapt forward, climbing the creepers surrounding the nightshade with a bladesinger's agility. The zenblade turned blue.
Miro held onto a vine with one hand. He sensed the nightshade's clawing hands coming at him and knew he had just this one stroke. He held his zenblade with the other hand and thrust at the torso with all the strength of his honed muscles.
The zenblade bit into the bark, piercing no more than a few inches into the trunk. The blow was inconsequential, and Miro realised he was a dead man.
The two gnarled hands wrapped around him, yanking Miro away from the nightshade's body and holding him high in the air while the glaring eyes regarded him. Miro felt the hands begin to squeeze and pull. The nightshade was tearing him in two.
Miro's song faltered and then stopped, the light of the armoursilk's runes slowly fading until it was completely dark. He had never felt such unbelievable strength; the nightshade squeezed at his body with a grip of iron, crushing his ribs and pulling his legs until Miro could almost feel them come out of their sockets.
Miro thought of his sister, and of Amber, both somewhere far from home. Ella had always told him he was too reckless.
Suddenly, Miro remembered.
"O-lunara-o-sumara. Na-tumara-kan," he choked the new sequence his sister had built into his armoursilk.
Miro's green armoursilk lit up with shimmering blue lines, sizzling with lightning. Even insulated as he was he felt the numbing jolt and his teeth smashed together, biting through his lip. The metallic taste of blood instantly suffused his mouth.
What the nightshade felt would be much, much worse.