Aelred heard a faint sound in the thick, tangled woods. He called out to the sound and heard his dim echo. A full moon shone, but that didn’t matter; the tangled canopy obscured most of its light. He could hardly even discern the ground beneath him. As Aelred waited for the sound to begin again, he heard another noise behind him. 

He hid behind a tree, able to run but feeling cornered. His sweaty hand gripped his sword—which recent battles had made jagged and notched. Would he ever need it again? He drew it as silently as he could, but the dented edge rang like a distant bell. His anticipation magnified the note and it sounded even louder to him. Every nervous breath he took seemed like a shout from his quaking heart.

Whatever advanced from behind him ceased to move at the nearly imperceptible sound, waiting, no doubt crouching at the ready, only waiting for terror to overcome its prey fully. Aelred closed his eyes and imagined the crackling fire from the small Rohian camp a hundred yards away. He longed to abandon his scouting duty and return to it. The soldiers, his friends after these last few awful weeks of their mission, rested not in safety, but in comfort. He knew better than to think any of them were safe. Perhaps they even managed to close their minds to the possibilities that could befall the scouts.  

His breathing grew rapid and his heart pounded in his chest. Should he stay and fight what confronted him? Should he cry out to warn the camp? Should he run? The sound behind him began again. Though whatever made the noise moved slowly and with great deliberation the footsteps sounded louder.

Human, he could tell. 

The thing in front of him began to advance also. From far away it sounded more stealthy. There came a sudden rustling of leaves from close in front of him. Aelred raised his sword and turned his head aside, fearing what reckless attack he would have to parley with his back to a tree. Out of the bushes ahead of him lunged a hare which shook all over. As the rabbit took flight again, Aelred felt all the weight of worry removed from his chest; but then he heard it again.  

The sound in front of him again moved closer. Aelred’s heart skipped a few beats as he realized that the rabbit had not been making the sinister footsteps. Whatever advanced toward him had awakened and terrified the animal.

Aelred began shaking violently all over. He didn’t know who or what confronted him, and he felt cornered in the woods. During his Rohian training he heard many stories lacking an ending with forests as their setting. His present position brought those thoughts to the forefront of his memory. He as the main character, though, gave his terrified mind reason to heighten the horrible memories. 

A twig snapped and brought Aelred’s wandering thoughts back to the present. Whatever made the noise stood only a few yards behind him. He knew from his training that he should strike first to gain the advantage of initiative. He drew in a deep breath and hurled himself unthinking around the tree to fight until the end. He came to a dead stop immediately when he saw who had been advancing on him from behind. It was indeed a man, one whom he knew, and from his own camp. 

The two men stared at one another with swords raised for a few seconds, silently conversing what they both dreaded. Then— Aelred spoke in a hissed whisper, “Agar, what are you doing here?”

“I heard a noise from this way, but it was only you.”

“No, there’s something else over there.” Aelred pointed to where he had heard the noise.

“Are you sure?”

Aelred didn’t need to answer. Both of the men heard the sound again—a man’s footsteps about fifty yards to their side.

“What is it?” Agar whispered affrightedly. “Does it know we’re here?”

“I don’t know what it is, but we’ll have to find out,” Aelred replied. Then, with much hesitation, he asked, “Ready?”

Agar gazed into the dark woods then back at the camp. He swallowed hard and said, “No, only one of us should go. I will. You have a family. If I call to you for help, then come. If not, then…” His voice trailed off into the night as he realized what could happen in the dark woods with an unknown enemy after him. Though the night was cold enough to see their breath in the faint moonlight penetrating to their position, they both sweat, and Agar even more now. 

Aelred slowly handed another dagger over to Agar, who silently accepted it. He now held a dagger in his belt, one in his left hand, and his sword in his other hand. His sword also bore dents from the past few days’ fighting. Aelred watched Agar creep slowly into the undergrowth and disappear from sight. A quarter of an hour passed, and then a half an hour, and not a sound came from the woods. 

Cold soon worked its way into Aelred’s bones. He imagined the whole forest watching him, urging him to probe deeper into the woods to look for his friend. The darkness closed in upon his mind, asking, even demanding his surrender. Nothing but complete collapse would be enough for it. It needed him to give in, to renounce his will to live, and abandon everything he hoped the future held. The dread of his position filled him almost entirely. A loathing feeling of fear made him want to scream and run toward the comforting fire in the camp, but something held him back. His body would not move.

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Aelred’s thoughts started swirling in his head: “Is that the fire from our camp? Or did the Shalmen overrun our camp while everyone slumbered? It could easily happen without my knowing. Quit that kind of talk; the camp is doing fine. Where’s Agar? I should go look for him. But he told me not to. He didn’t mean it. But he did. He did!”

Aelred looked at the area where Agar had ventured into the trees and then longingly looked at the fire from his camp. While gazing toward the speck of distant fire, Aelred heard a gasping, choking noise come from the woods at his back and froze stiff with a nauseous feeling in his stomach. Something began thrashing in the woods, followed by silence, then a low, sinister chuckle. 

The feeling of loathing that descended upon Aelred enveloped him so completely he took every ounce of self control not to fall victim to the downward-spiral of terror. Abhorrence clung so tightly around his chest that breathing seemed impossible. He would suffocate from hatred for an enemy he never even saw. His stomach rejected this and hurled his stomach’s contents to the ground. He heard another low laugh answering the first and gasped. The laughs froze his thoughts of helping Agar. Agar would never laugh that way, and neither would a simple enemy. A complete massacre of their force or getting close enough to safety is all that would stop this branch of the main army.

Whatever got Agar, Aelred determined, would not get the rest of the men in the camp. Without glancing behind him, Aelred darted off through the trees in the direction of the fire. He didn’t care about the branches that whipped him in the face or the terrible clamor he made. He only cared about getting back to the camp alive.

*****

“Who are you?” an archer called to a man stumbling loudly through the trees toward the camp. He drew the string of his longbow back to his ear and held an arrow ready to lunge forward at the mere release of his fingers.

“Help!” the stumbling figure shouted as he came running closer to the camp.

“What? Who are you?” the marksman, Anthanasius, called, still following the runner.

“They got Agar!”

“Aelred, it’s you. Who got Agar?” he asked as he eased the bowstring.

“They got him- we have to move!”

“Calm down Aelred, who got Agar?” the guard, Anthanasius, questioned as he held Aelred by the shoulders and looked into his terrified eyes.

“They got him! The Shalmen took him in the forest!”

“Which way?” Anthanasius asked, keeping his customary calm demeanor and asking a question to check his companion’s wild fear and make him think.

Aelred looked around and pointed to the place where he emerged from the woods into the clearing.

“Are you sure they got him? We don’t want to leave without him if he’s alright,” Anthanasius asked Aelred.

“As sure as I see you standing here. He said he would call for me if he needed help but he couldn’t.” Aelred put significant emphasis on the last word.

“Alright then,” said Anthanasius, taking charge of the situation, “You wake the camp and prepare the men to move north. I’ll gather the other sentries from around.” With that, he turned and rushed into the forest. He didn’t take time to hear the whole story from Aelred but didn’t doubt its accuracy.

Aelred rushed to the nearest soldier and shook him. He awoke with a start, grabbing for his sword. Aelred held his arm fast to prevent him from raising his weapon. “We have to get out of here. Help me wake everyone— we’re leaving momentarily.”

With that, Aelred rushed to wake the next soldier. The next man he woke naturally groped for his weapon also. Awakening to a friend, the fear in his eyes turned into relief and then back into fear as he got up and looked around at the dark forest. Only one reason could cause them to move during the night. Scant moonbeams shone through the clearing in the trees. Dying leaves rustled above with the gentle breeze. Within a minute, the small camp stood ready for a fleeing journey.

Luke also rose from his resting place on the forest floor in the early hours of the morning. He only awoke seconds before, but they needed to clear their camp and continue the exhausting flight. Aelred, one of the soldiers who patrolled the outskirts of the camp at the time of the alarm, reported Shalmen presence. At least, that is what Luke understood from the story circulating through the agitated camp.

The soldiers on guard arrived back from the forest to see everyone ready for further flight. The whole company stood together in the forest, minus one.

“Where’s Agar?” the young soldier named Luke inquired, voicing everyone’s fears. Luke cut a trim, athletic figure that had slimmed even more over the past few weeks with low rations, and kept his face clean-shaven when he could, but brown, rough, and ragged facial hair encircled his mouth and up to his sideburns. Many of the soldiers looked the same; unkempt hair, dark circles under their eyes, and mud and blood smearing their faces and clothing.

“We think the Shalmen got him,” answered Anthanasius, the highest ranking soldier in the group as he strode forward and decisively kicked dirt into the glowing embers of their companion fire. The last wafts of smoke rose toward the moon. Now only that pale light could guide the company’s steps.

Anthanasius stood taller than most men, and walked with an unfaltering stride that exuded confidence. The set of his head on his shoulders kept his shoulder-length dark hair out of his face. His dark eyes reflected the glow of the moon. He saw firsthand the glory of Rohia under King Hugh and its more recent year of struggle. His youthful appearance remained little changed from the hardships of the past struggles.

Already assigned to missions requiring the greatest stealth despite his young age, Anthanasius rose fast in the king’s favor. The new king assigning his leadership to this dangerous mission demonstrated the extreme trust his father imparted for this soldier in the former prince.

“We’re heading to Echo Slope,” he said. “That is our greatest chance of making it to safety.”