Vambran wanted to yank his dagger free and deal a killing blow to the skirmisher, but there was no time. Already the main force to his left had closed to within bow range, and a hail of arrows was dropping down among the straggling Crescents behind him. In another few moments, the troops would be on him and his men, and there wouldn't be enough time to disappear into the depths of the forest. Instead of finishing the man off completely, Vambran rolled to his feet again and rushed on, leaping over the heavy underbrush that marked the very fringe of the tree line.

As he crashed into the bushes and began to push through into the taller trees, vines and branches began whipping at Vambran and enveloping him, trying to ensnare him.

Waukeen! he thought, desperately yanking his arms and legs free and trying to surge forward. Can't get hung up here! Must get to cover!

Vambran could hear the frustrated shouts of other members of his company, all around him in the heavy undergrowth, as well as the sounds of enemy soldiers gathering just beyond the edge of the trees. The proximity of the infantry forces closing in lent a desperate fervor to his efforts, but Vambran was unable to make any headway through the enchanted plants.

In one last panicky effort, Vambran managed to yank one arm free. He reached up and took hold of the medallion hanging from the chain on his neck and spoke a beseeching prayer to Waukeen for strength. Immediately, the lieutenant felt a surge of energy course through his limbs, and with his newfound power, he succeeded in breaking free of the worst of the grasping, coiling tendrils of plant growth. He lunged forward, each step a superhuman effort, and finally, he was able to slip beyond the range of the enchanted growth and dart deeper into the forest.

Vambran turned after a dozen or so steps and peered back toward the open ground. He could see several soldiers, armed with crossbows and a variety of bladed weapons, pushing into the trees where he had just been. One of the men spotted him and shouted a warning to the rest, but as they neared the edge of the writhing, clutching plant life, they had to hold up, and they instead chose to shoot at him from where they stood. Vambran turned and slipped away, darting behind the first thick tree trunks to evade their missiles.

As Vambran moved deeper into the forest, the shadowtops that predominated the woods became taller and thicker, their high branches forming a heavy canopy that left him in gloomy dimness. The area around the base of the trees became more open and easily traversed, for little undergrowth could gain the sunlight needed beneath those towering shadowtops.

Knowing he was moving in more open terrain made the lieutenant wary, and he cocked his crossbow and kept a watchful eye all around. At one point, he heard the soft, rustling sounds of movement to his left, but he could not see anyone. Unsure of whether it was friend or foe flanking him, Vambran gave a whistle, a birdcall he had taught his company to signal one another. The answering whistle came back, and Vambran angled his progress in that direction.

After a few more strides, he came upon two other members of the company. Burtis was sitting, his back against the bole of a tree, a nasty gash in his thigh. Filana, one of the handful of women who served in the Crescents, was kneeling down as though she had been tending to the wound. Both of them had their crossbows leveled at Vambran as he approached, but when they realized who it was, the relief on their faces was clear.

Vambran gave a signal for continued silence then motioned that he would circle their position and watch for any others approaching. Both of his soldiers nodded, and Filana returned her attention to the gash. The lieutenant set out again, making wide circles around the central position where Filana and Burtis were, and it did not take him long to spot and signal other members of the group to join him.

After only a few moments, Vambran had half a dozen mercenaries gathered at the tree. In addition to the pair he had already found, Vambran managed to round up Horial and Adyan, the two sergeants from his own platoon, as well as the gold dwarf Grolo Firefist, who was a sergeant for the other platoon in his company. The last mercenary who had made it into the woods was a young man named Elebrio, who had just joined the Crescents earlier that summer.

Together, the seven of them huddled together next to the tree, waiting and watching Vambran for some sign of what they should do next. The lieutenant stared back at each of them, feeling numb. From forty men that morning, his command had been reduced to six. Each face reflected that same sense of loss he was feeling. Each person, standing shoulder to shoulder with what was left of their company, seemed shaken and defeated. Vambran felt anguish, as though he had somehow let them all down. He had led them into the disasters of the ship attacks and the ambush on the beach.

No! He silently insisted, realizing that letting those doubts fester would only further damage the chances they had at survival. Lead them now; accept responsibility for your failures later. If they'll let you lead them, he added dismally.

"Lieutenant?" Horial queried, giving his superior an expectant look.

Understanding that his sergeant was trying to give him an opening to assert himself, Vambran nodded. "Scout back along our trail," he said at last, looking at Horial, beginning to think about strategy rather than his own wretched sense of gloom. "They haven't entered the woods in force, yet, but they will as soon as they can clear out their own magical traps." The sergeant nodded and crept off. Vambran turned back to the rest of his group. "Be ready to move out at a moment's notice," he said.

"Sir?" Adyan said, a nervous look in his eye. When Vambran motioned for the sergeant to speak, he drawled, "You're not planning to cross these woods, are you?"

Vambran sighed heavily. "Not if I can help it," he answered at last. "But there's an army between us and freedom, and we may not have a choice."

"That means leaving the rest behind," Grolo said flatly.

Vambran raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. "Yes, it does," he said. "What's your point?"

"No point, sir," Grolo answered. "I just wondered what your intentions are regarding the rest of them."

"We're seven to a hundred, not good odds. But my intentions are to rescue them," Vambran said.

Not a one of the mercenaries spoke, but Vambran could tell from the determined looks on each of the five soldiers' faces that they still believed in him, were ready to follow him into battle. Especially to save companions. That, if nothing else, gave him hope.

At that moment, Horial slipped back into view. "They're mustering a large sweeping force and entering the tree line," he reported. "It looks like they're coming after us."

"Then the rescue has to wait," Vambran said. "On your feet. We're going deeper into the woods."

With one look back, Vambran set out. He hoped he wasn't taking his remaining command into more trouble.