It was the dead of night, but John found himself wide awake. Grimald snored softly next to him, and he wondered how the dwarf could sleep when they were been taken away towards and unknown place and an unknown fate.

“Udoriol, are you awake?” he whispered.

“I am now,” came the elf’s reply.

“Have you thought of a way out?” he asked as softly as he dared. They had marched through the woods for most of the day and were now lying on the ground on the edge of the elves’ encampment, and escape was all John could think of when they had been led here. Udoriol and Grimald’s hands were bound in front of them, but his were free. He could not think of a better opportunity to escape. The elves were quiet and had, incredibly, not lit watchfires, so darkness was on their side.

There was a brief pause, before a curt reply. “No.”

“Why?” John gasped, “Have they told you what they intend to do with us in Findendor?”

“I have no idea,” Udoriol’s tone was matter of fact.

“Have the two of you resigned yourselves to going meekly to your fates?” John hissed.

“Not quite,” Udoriol replied, “It’s just that I’ve not seen any opportunities to do so.”

“How about right now?”

John fell silent as a mirthful voice said something in elvish from deeper in the encampment. It was punctuated by laughter from other, unseen elves.

“They said that they can hear every word you said,” Udoriol sighed.

John felt a rush of warmth on his face.

“You’ve seen some of the elves with light in their eyes, haven’t you?” Udoriol asked after a brief pause.

“I have, what’s that about?” John ventured, louder this time now that he knew the elves could hear him anyway.

“They saw the first light and carry a portion of it with them,” Udoriol explained, “They have perfect vision, regardless of how much light there is.”

John’s heart sank. “So they put us on the edge of the encampment to taunt us.”

“They have set up defensively,” Udoriol pointed out, “They do not consider us important enough to defend.”

John’s blood turned cold. “Is the enemy close?”

“Not yet, little piggy,” he heard Phyra say out of the darkness, “But we cannot discount the fact that they may have ways to evade our detection.”

Her words were almost prophetic, and screams were heard from the centre of the encampment. Udoriol scrambled to his feet. “Free us,” he demanded in Mithian, “We can help. I can feel the Dark Ones’ magic around us.”

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Phyra fell silent. Moments later, she appeared out of the darkness. Her dagger glittered silver under the starlight as she used it to cut Udoriol’s bonds.

“Treto, cast out the darkness and shine Your light on the minions of darkness!” Udoriol roared as she freed Grimald.

Blinding white light erupted from his hand, temporarily blinding John, and earning Udoriol a sharp rebuke from Phyra.

“Do not attempt to challenge the servants of the Night Goddess in the dark!” Udoriol cried.

Now that they were able to see their foes, the elves fought back with arrows and spells. Then, the orc fighters came charging to the fore. Their eyes glowed purple as they engaged the elven soldiers, overwhelming them with their monstrous strength. Eventually, Udoriol’s light faded, and darkness descended once again.

“This is a losing battle,” Grimald warned as elvish screams and orcish roars echoed around them. “We need to run.”

“You will go nowhere!” Phyra hissed.

“This expedition to reinforce Findendor has failed,” Udoriol said tersely, “We must return to Effulian and warn them of what is to come. To remain here means certain death.”

“You can flee if you want, coward,” Phyra spat in Mithian, “I will stay and fight.”

By the light of the stars, John could see Udoriol grab Phyra by the arm. “They will not listen to an outcast like me. We need you to come with us.”

A shrill whistle sang out in the distance, and Phyra let out a gasp of despair. Elves were shouting nearby, the panic clear in their voices.

“That’s the order to flee, isn’t it?” Grimald observed. John took advantage of her inattention to remove the dagger she kept at her side and quietly slip it up his sleeve.

Phyra muttered something in Elvish that prompted Udoriol to grab her by the arm. “Come on,” he said, as he dragged her in the opposite direction of the fighting, “We need to run.”

He muttered a brief spell and a glowing orb appeared in his hand, illuminating their immediate surroundings.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” John asked dubiously.

“They are the masters of the night,” Udoriol replied, “This light makes little difference to them, but to us, it will make our flight that much quicker.”

As they ran, John heard something crashing through the shrubs behind them. He turned and saw a massive purple eyed orc hot on their heels. He wielded a massive mace which he used to flatten a sapling that stood in his path in a single stroke. He was gaining quickly and would soon catch up to them. John took a deep breath and clutched Phyra’s dagger tightly.

“I’ll hold it off,” he said as he dropped back.

Moments later, he felt invigorated and saw the dagger blaze in his hand. He didn’t know if it would help but thanked Udoriol under his breath all the same. He came to a halt and faced their pursuer who scarcely seemed to notice him. The light from the dagger revealed the orc swinging his huge mace. It moved quicker than John had anticipated, and he felt a wave of nausea as he felt the powerful swing pass just over his head as he ducked under it. He then extended his dagger and braced his arms, letting the orc’s momentum drive the six inch long blade into his leg.

The orc let off an irritated grunt, as though he had stubbed his toe on a rock and glared at John as he raised his huge mace. John struggled to pull the dagger free from the massive orc’s thigh, but it was to no avail. As the mace lingered in the air, a pair of arrows struck the orc in quick succession, each striking it in an eye. Summoning all his strength, John managed to yank the dagger free and let off a roar as he jumped up and drove it into the creature’s neck.

The orc swayed briefly before falling forward. The ground shook as the body landed on the ground, and John scrambled away, fearing that the creature might get up again. Then he saw that the fall had driven the two arrows in the orc’s eyes through the back of its skull, and John allowed himself to relax.

“Well done,” Phyra said, sounding impressed.

“We can admire the boy’s courage later,” Grimald snapped as screams rang out of the darkness around them, “We need to go.”

“I know just the place,” Phyra declared, “Follow me.”

“I hope you’re not thinking of going to Findendor,” Udoriol warned, “There’s bound to be more of them between us and them.”

“I’m not suicidal,” Phyra snapped, “And don’t forget, the three of you are my prisoners.”