A sergeant of the Order threw himself from his horse, rushing to the wounded man's side. He drew a dagger and cut away the restraining cords.
"Bring blankets and erect a tent!" he ordered his men, easing the patient to the ground.
"I prayed to find someone who could help," the merman said, trying to sound relieved. "I am Ambassador Laquatus of the Mer Empire. Can you do anything?"
The sergeant ignored him, already falling into a trance. The energy rolling from his hands was almost invisible in the sunlight. Used to the rich golden color of healing, the ambassador wondered if he misunderstood the sergeant's intentions. But the one- armed man's breathing seemed to improve by a miniscule amount as more power soaked into the body. "The sergeant is exhausted," a soldier explained, coming from a packhorse with a bundle of wood to start a fire. "We've been marching for days, slaughtering anything we can find." He dropped the fuel and began cutting a circle of turf away for a fire pit. All the Order soldiers looked exhausted. Some stood with still bloody weapons, too tired to clean them.
"I am Corporal Vale," the soldier continued as he stacked the wood, laying down the kindling, then the heavier pieces. The warrior was twisted as if a healing had gone wrong, but intelligence glinted from the slack face.
"Why are you here so close to the forest?" Corporal or not, there was suspicion in his look.
"Attacked," came a gurgling cry from behind them.
The corporal spun, his dirt-covered knife ready to stab.
"I was attacked," the wounded knight repeated, his eyes glassy as he looked toward the sky.
The corporal crowded closer, his knife still ready but his attention on the wounded man.
"Who attacked you?" Vale asked gently. The knight's face was flushed, and the corporal motioned for one of other soldiers to continue the fire building. "How were you injured?"
The sergeant was deep in his trance, his face growing hollow as he poured more healing power into the wounded man. Laquatus watched with interest, for the stimulants and poisons he had poured down the knight's throat were nearly as deadly as the seeping wounds.
"A metal-hued barbarian and a centaur," came the implanted answer. "They fell on us behind a wave of animals, killing everyone before I was rescued. A frog carried me away," he gasped and passed out.
The ambassador restrained a wide grin, all the work had been worth it. He tried to look concerned.
"He means my jack, Turg," he said, pointing to the battlefield where the amphibian tore away raw flesh and gulped it down. "I was coming after Lieutenant Kirtar when we happened upon the ambush. We were only able to save the one man before being forced to flee. We were lucky to make it to you alive."
The corporal grunted, then knelt to catch the sergeant as he toppled. The healer looked as wasted as his patient, and Laquatus wondered if they would both die. Vale looked lost as he held his superior's head, already tucking blankets around the drained figure.
"Kirtar is five miles farther in the forest," he said distractedly, "Follow the main path, and you will come upon his camp." He turned to the ambassador. "If you could leave a few men to help protect the wounded, it would be greatly appreciated."
"Of course I can," Laquatus said expansively. He waved three mercenaries over. "I will leave these guards here with supplies and food if you could give me one man to lead me to Kirtar."
Vale nodded, exhaustion catching up with him. Even three unknowns would be an infusion of strength to the weakened command.
"Toltas," he called. A soldier stood up from the fire building. "Escort the ambassador and his men to the lieutenant. Tell him of the aid they provided."
The soldier made no protest, looking like a sleepwalker. Laquatus accepted the guide, for the rest of the command looked like the walking dead.
The detachment appeared asleep as the ambassador's men and their guide left for the lieutenant. As they proceeded, the ambassador looked for further signs of the forest's aggression. He kept a ward up to deter attacks from whatever they might meet. Scattered groups of animals lay piled, killed by the Order. The guide took them around the corpses, too tired to speak. Turg jumped to inspect each mound, but Laquatus kept firm control over the frog's appetite.
They came to the main Order camp, nearly abandoned except for five guards. They did not even challenge the ambassador and his party, their faces dull as they ate. The distant sounds of battle could be heard, and Laquatus and his mercenaries drew weapons.
"Where is the lieutenant?" the ambassador barked. A soldier eating beans gave only a vague wave toward the noise.
Laquatus looked at his guide, who was glassy- eyed and swaying in his saddle. "Stay here. We can find Kirtar on our own."
Too tired to argue, the soldier dismounted and slowly walked to the cook pot.
"Come on men," Laquatus said loudly. "The lieutenant might need our help." He put his heels to his steed's side and moved out at a bone-jarring gait. Once they were out of sight of the camp, he slowed down. "Pull up, you fools," he said to the mercenaries. Caught up in the moment, half of his riders forgot he was no friend of the Order.
"We will slowly scout out the situation, and if Kirtar truly is in trouble, we'll finish him off," Laquatus said coldly. "If he appears to be winning or there are flying messengers, we will act in support. But do nothing until I give the order."
At a mental command,Turg faded from view. His camouflaging skin mimicked the small undergrowth on the border between the forest and the plains. Laquatus fed more energy to his wards. The mercenaries and the ambassador moved slowly ahead while the frog sent mental pictures back to the merman. Laquatus threw his reins to a mercenary and slumped in his saddle as his champion's visions filled his mind.
There was a clearing in the brush, and inside it the Order laid siege to the herd of giant animals. They appeared reptilian, as large as dragons, though without wings or signs of magical ability. They sounded cries of distress like mighty elephants, as the lieutenant sent mounted squads against single animals.
The knights lowered their lances, the wood and steel flickering as magic flowed through the weapons. The horses approached at a slow gallop, closing obliquely with the group. The hills of flesh shifted, trying to retreat farther into the herd, but there was no more room. The points cut into the belly of a huge reptile, tearing through the hide. Blood poured down, gallons soaking into soil. The final lance tore through the ligaments of a leg, sending the animal down. Turg was overwhelmed by the smell of hot blood, and Kirtar sent another squad after a different animal.
The ambassador came out of his light trance, disappointed at Kirtar's strength. He must come in as an ally, he realized. He drew his personal weapon, a trident, and called softly, "We will support the lieutenant, men."
They came out of the concealing brush nearly opposite the Order. Laquatus sent his steed around the perimeter of the clearing to link up with the lieutenant, seeing little point of charging into a battle before making sure the effort was appreciated.
Over the bellow of the giants, the screams of griffins carried on the wind. A flight of Order soldiers came down, their weapons ready to be unleashed. However, instead of charging the herd, a woman dismounted. Kirtar saluted her, and Laquatus realized this must be Captain Pianna, head of the Order. He enhanced his senses and drifted back to the brush.
"Captain, you are just in time to join us," Kirtar said, the bird warrior standing proud. In contrast to his men he seemed alert and eager.
The captain drew off her helmet and handed it to a mounted subordinate. "I need to speak to you alone," she said, her voice flat.
Kirtar looked to the animals, as if to mention the lack of time.