The sergeant nodded and snapped his fingers. Immediately, two more soldiers moved forward, grabbing Kovrim by each arm.
Kovrim grimaced and closed his eyes in consternation as his personal escort began to lead him away.
Vambran opened his eyes to discover that he was watching the trees drift past upside down, swaying rhythmically. It took him another moment or two to understand that he was hanging that way, hands and feet bound across a stout log carried on the shoulders of two men. All of his belongings, including his breastplate and his weapons, had been taken from him. His neck and back ached.
The lieutenant lifted his head up and peered between his arms, trying to get some sense of what was happening. The other five Crescents who had still been with him during the night were bound similarly, each dangling from a pole borne on strong shoulders. Their escort consisted of perhaps two dozen figures, all strung out in a line, following a trail through the woods. Only some of them were human.
In addition to a handful of men and women roughly clad in the skins of animals and further camouflaged with twigs and leaves interwoven into their clothing and hair, there were a couple of elves in the group-one was a male in a simple loincloth with dark brown skin covered in tattoos, and the other had more coppery skin and red hair. There were also a handful of creatures that seemed to be a cross between an elf and an antelope. Vambran would have named them centaurs had they had the bodies of horses, but they were much smaller. The druids and their companions moved easily among the trees, practically vanishing from sight as they glided past shadows and underbrush with the greatest of ease.
Dropping his head back down for a moment, Vambran noticed that the sun was beginning to rise behind him and to his left. That meant they were heading southwest, at least assuming it was morning. They were moving deeper into the forest, to its heart, if he remembered the maps correctly. All around Vambran, the forest was nearly silent, though a few early birds were beginning to stir.
A wild-haired halfling carrying a small bow appeared along the trail behind the group and quickly caught up, passing Vambran. The lieutenant craned his neck and watched as the halfling began to speak with a human, the one who had first laid steel to Vambran's throat the night before. He was a slender man, with matted dark hair and a strong jaw line.
The leader, Vambran surmised.
As he watched the human listen to the messenger's words, Vambran saw his captor tense. Then he nodded and barked a quick command to those around him, and the group halted. Vambran and the other Crescents were set down none too gently, still tied to the poles that bore them. The lieutenant found that an exposed root was poking him in his backside, and he tried unsuccessfully to shift off of it before giving up.
"What has occurred?" the lieutenant asked.
The leader looked at him, perhaps angry that the mercenary had deigned to speak. Then his features softened somewhat in the dim glow of dawn, and he said, "Our attack on the soldier camp was unsuccessful. Reinforcements arrived and drove us from the field."
"Reinforcements?" Vambran said, surprised. "That's a good-sized mercenary company!"
"Your brethren scour the land all throughout these woods, killing one another and poisoning the land. You are everywhere. Why does the size of this one army surprise you?"
"Because I did not come here to fight," Vambran replied. "We are not involved in the wars of these other soldiers."
The druid sniffed. "I very much doubt that is true," he said.
"What of my soldiers?" Vambran persisted. "They were prisoners, being held in the barn. What is their fate?"
"I do not differentiate one group from another anymore," the leader replied coldly. "You all kill and destroy equally well." Vambran opened his mouth to protest, but the leader gave him a warning look. "Do not mock me with your lies. I would see you dead, but Arbeenok has foreseen some use for you in his visions, so I have stayed my hand-for the moment. Do not try my patience, though, or not even Arbeenok can save you."
Swallowing the retort he would have liked to utter, Vambran instead asked, "Arbeenok?"
The man jerked his head in the direction of another creature before moving off, ending the conversation. The creature he had indicated was accompanying the rest of the group but standing off alone, by himself. Vambran stared, for he had never seen such a beast before.
Arbeenok could almost have been an ape of some sort. His body was completely covered in light-colored fur, and he had large, tufted ears that rose straight up from the sides of his head. He was immensely muscular, with his neck as broad as his head. He had a barrel chest and thick, bulging arms protruding from a crude leather shirt. His legs were equally robust, even though they were encased in similar leather trousers. The mercenary officer noticed beads and feathers woven into Arbeenok's hair, and he carried a trio of javelins and a wicked-looking knife that jutted through a belt around his waist.
Though he was obviously physically powerful, the creature seemed reserved, almost shy, to Vambran. The lieutenant studied Arbeenok for a moment. The creature stood very still, his head cocked to one side, as though listening. Vambran could hear nothing, though, and when he noticed the mercenary staring at him, Arbeenok turned and strode away, vanishing into the trees ahead.
The rest was brief, and soon enough, Vambran found himself swaying once more back and forth as his bearers walked. He pleaded with the leader at one point to let them down, that he and the other Crescents would cooperate if they were allowed to walk, but all he got for his offer was a threat of forced silence if he did not be quiet himself. Sighing, he tried to find a way to ease the ache in his shoulders and neck.
The entourage's journey took them deep into the woods, and though Vambran could hardly make it out sometimes, they were following a trail of sorts. At two different points along their route, they were forced to cross a sizeable stream that blocked their path, but each time, a carefully placed log permitted them to traverse the waterway easily, though for those hanging upside down, the crossing was nerve-racking. Vambran noticed that the trees on either side of the makeshift bridge had many markings carved into their bark.
Signposts? he wondered. Or messages?
After the sun was well up in the sky, the group stopped for a longer rest. Though the druids refused to untie the Crescents, they did feed Vambran and the others a bit of food. The female elf with the reddish hair came and knelt down beside the lieutenant, a leaf cupped in her hand. Inside, Vambran could see squirming slugs, freshly dug from out of the earth. The elf held one up and brought it to his lips. The mercenary officer did not want anything to do with it. The idea of consuming the still-living thing was repulsive to him, and he turned his head away.
His attendant frowned and shrugged, then popped the slug into her own mouth. "You will not eat?" she asked as she chewed. Her accent was odd, lilting and musical. "The food is fresh," she added, showing him the leaf in her hand.
"A little too fresh, actually," Vambran replied. "There's jerky in my pack. I'll eat some of that, if you don't mind."
The elven maiden made a face. "Dried meat," she said distastefully. "It has no… goodness," she said, struggling to find the word. "This is better."
Vambran sighed, but he did not feel like continuing the argument. His stomach rumbled and he opened his mouth and allowed her to press one of the wriggling slugs onto his tongue.
If I can eat a live spider, he told himself…