Eryshae

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Sam

Sam woke to the uncomfortable fullness in his bladder. He groaned softly, disentangling himself from the warmth of Vael's arms. Her sleeping breath rose and fell in steady rhythm, lips just parted, strands of green hair resting against her cheek.

He moved carefully, grabbing his trousers and pulling them on in the dark, bare feet brushing against the canvas floor of their tent. The embers of the nearby campfire glowed faintly through the tent flap, casting soft shadows.

Outside, the night air was cool against his skin, the stars still sharp overhead. He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped away from the tent, heading toward the edge of the trees to relieve himself. But he froze halfway there. Something was wrong. It wasn't a sound exactly; but the absence of it. No idle murmuring of guards, no crackle of shifting leather or armor. Just silence. And shadow.

He narrowed his eyes. A shape moved between two tents; low, smooth, deliberate. Sam ducked instinctively, heart thudding. He edged closer, stepping lightly between sleeping forms and cold hearths, until he saw them. Not one. Several.

Figures dressed in dark, mottled cloth, slinking between tents like wolves among sheep. Their blades already slick. Sam's breath caught as he saw the first body. A night watchman, throat gaping open, eyes still wide in shock. Then another. And another.

Three. Maybe more. Stacked carefully, grotesquely, in a neat pile behind a supply tent. The bandits were hauling the corpses there in silence, with methodical precision. A cold rush washed through him; this wasn't a raid. This was infiltration. An extermination. He looked back toward the tent Vael was in. Then toward Commander Sidney's.

He had seconds, maybe less. He crouched low and turned, his mind sharpening like a blade drawn from the sheath. No one was awake. Except him. And death was already moving.

Sam's heart hammered as he crouched in the shadows, pulse beating in his glowing arm like a war drum. The veins of bioluminescence beneath his skin shimmered faintly, reacting to his rising fear and fury. He slid backward slowly, each breath measured. He could feel bark shift across his forearm like a second skin, instinctively preparing for defense. The nearest tent was Sidney's.

He moved quickly, low to the ground, careful not to draw the attention of the killers moving like wraiths between the rows. One of them stopped; turning, listening. Sam froze behind a stack of bundled firewood. The figure tilted its head, then moved on.

He slipped between tents, cut across the path to Sidney's quarters, and crouched by the entrance. "Commander," he whispered sharply, hand on the flap. "Sidney; wake up. Now." The flap pulled open an instant later. Fiery red hair spilled out first, her blade in hand. Her eyes adjusted instantly.

"Vice-Chief Sam?" Her voice was all tension. He responds, "we've got bandits. In the camp. Three night guards down. Stacked in a pile." She didn't hesitate. "Sound the alert. Quietly; go." She ducked back in, already rousing the guards inside. Sam turned and ran for Vael next.

He slipped inside, heart thudding as he reached for her shoulder. "Vael. Wake up." She stirred, instinctively reaching for the dagger she kept beside her pillow. When her eyes met his, the look on his face told her everything. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What is it?"

"Bandits. Inside the camp." She was up in a breath, strapping on her belt and sliding into her boots. Then; a scream outside. The silence was shattered.

Steel on steel.

Someone had spotted the bodies; or been seen themselves. The camp erupted in chaos. Sam flung the tent flap open and darted out into firelight and movement, the bioluminescent veins on his arm glowing bright now as he took in the scene.

A bandit lunged from between two tents toward a young guard; Sam tackled him from the side, rolling with the man in the dirt. His wooden fist cracked into the bandit's jaw, and something snapped. Sam rose, gasping, as three more figures surged toward the command tents.

Vael appeared at his side, blades drawn, eyes sharp with fury. Commander Sidney's voice rose over the din: "DEFENSIVE FORMATION! PROTECT THE CARDINAL!"

Torches were flaring, illuminating the carnage as half-armored soldiers spilled from their beds to fight for their lives. An arrow screamed toward him from the dark. Sam flinched; but his left hand moved on instinct, snapping up in a blur. The shaft struck his forearm with a sharp thud, splintering against the hardened bark that now fully encased his limb. The bioluminescent veins spiraled across the bark in jagged blue-green, pulsing like a heartbeat.

He stared, stunned. The bark had thickened; responded to the danger. "Not bad," came a voice from the treeline. "But if you keep freezing up, you'll be dinner for the next one." Magnolia stepped from the shadows like mist off a river, a crooked grin under the brim of his wide straw hat. He wasn't armed, but moved with the serenity of a man who needed no blade. "Magnolia?" Sam blinked. "What are you…?"

"Druid business," the man said with a wink. "Time to get your roots under you." Two bandits rushed them, blades gleaming. Sam started to raise his arm again; Magnolia stepped in front of him and casually sidestepped a slash. The bandit stumbled past, off balance. Magnolia stuck his foot out without even looking, tripping the man flat on his face.

The second attacker lunged. Magnolia grabbed the man's wrist and twisted; pop; the sword clattered to the ground, and the bandit dropped to his knees, groaning. "Don't just stand there like a sapling in a storm," Magnolia said. "Close your eyes. Feel your seed. Focus the bark. Let it grow."

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"I don't; " Sam's voice caught. "I don't know how."

"You do," Magnolia said simply. "That sapling in your veins knows. Let it spread." Sam closed his eyes, breathing hard. The bark on his arm pulsed, alive and alert. He could feel it listening. Reaching. Down his shoulder, across his chest. Like roots spreading through rich soil, it moved, guided not by thought, but by acceptance.

His right hand tingled; then hardened. He opened his eyes. Both arms were bark now, glowing faintly with woven light. Another bandit charged them. Sam lifted both arms; and this time, he met the blade with confidence. Sparks skittered as steel met wood. He shoved forward, strength behind his limbs he didn't know he had, and the bandit stumbled back. Magnolia whistled. "That's more like it."

Three more emerged from the trees. Magnolia turned his head slightly. "I'll handle these." He stepped forward. A blur of motion; a sway here, a lean there. He danced through the attackers like water around stone, tripping one, ducking another, and sending the third crashing headfirst into a tent pole. It all looked like play.

Sam stared, panting, adrenaline buzzing in his ears. "Lesson one," Magnolia said as he wiped his hands on his robe. "You don't need to be fast. Just older than trees."

"Is that supposed to be encouraging?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Magnolia smirked. "But you'll want to get back to your woman. She looked like she'd bite the throat out of anyone who touched you." Sam exhaled and nodded, looking down at his bark-covered hands, pulsing with quiet fire. For the first time since this all began, he didn't feel helpless.

Smoke from burning tents curled through the air, glowing red in the firelight. Screams rang out. Blades clashed steel-on-steel. Sam turned just in time to see Vael, framed in firelight, her twin blades flashing like silver lightning. She moved with precision; spinning, ducking, striking; but even her grace couldn't cover every angle.

A bandit closed in from her blind side. But it wasn't the sword that made Sam's heart stop; it was the archer beyond, crouched low behind a stack of crates, bow drawn and aimed straight at her back. He saw the gleam of the arrowhead. The silent stretch of the string. Time lurched. "Vael!" Sam shouted, legs already moving.

Bark surged down his legs, his arms, responding to his fear with feral urgency. His veins glowed brighter than ever; like wildfire streaks under his skin.

The arrow flew.

Sam leapt forward with everything he had. He threw his left arm up just as the arrow struck; crack; it shattered against the thick bark that encased his forearm. Splinters sprayed across the grass. He collided with Vael, knocking her behind a half-burnt tent post just as a second arrow embedded in the wood with a vicious thunk.

"Sam?" she breathed, stunned. He winced, bark cracking slightly along his wrist, still glowing. "You were in its sights. I didn't even think." Vael's gaze flicked between his glowing arm and his eyes. "You blocked the arrow," she said softly. "With wooden hands?"

He gave a breathless laugh. "Yeah. Not sure I could do that a third time." A sudden crash erupted nearby as Magnolia tore through a group of bandits, his wide straw hat casting eerie shadows over his face. His staff swung low, tripping men with effortless grace, his movements like wind threading through roots.

"Fight's not over," Sam said, getting to his feet. Vael was already there, her blades gleaming with blood and firelight. "Then stay close." They moved together; Sam glowing and growing, bark crawling across his chest and to his other arm under Magnolia's unseen guidance. Vael danced like a flame, slashing through shadows, always one step ahead of the next strike.

Steel rang out again through the camp as Sam and Vael fought side-by-side. Sam's bark-clad limbs moved with a new, primal instinct. Each step he took echoed the rhythm of the earth. Each blow of Vael's twin blades whistled with grace and deadly purpose. Their movements were no longer hesitant; they were in sync, protecting each other, striking back.

Across the encampment, Commander Sidney moved like wildfire. Her fiery red hair, unbound in the chaos, blazed in the firelight. She shouted orders as she cut through the fray, her curved sabre slashing clean through a bandit's thigh. With a precise boot to the chest, she sent the man sprawling.

"Take that one alive!" she barked to two nearby guards, pointing to a bandit whose sword had been knocked from his hand and who now knelt, dazed and bleeding.

Before he could reach for a dagger, Sidney was on him. With one hand she drove the pommel of her sword into the side of his head. The bandit crumpled, wheezing. She knelt, yanking his head back by the hair. "You're going to answer some questions," she growled low, before standing again. "Bind him. Take him to the command tent."

The guards hauled the limp man off as Sidney turned, her blade dripping. Her eyes scanned for Vael. Across the field, Sam roared; not out of rage, but effort. He raised a bark-armored fist and smashed it into a bandit's shield, sending the man flying back ten feet. Another came at him from behind, but Magnolia appeared, spinning his staff low and sweeping the attacker's legs out. As the bandit hit the ground, Magnolia's staff jabbed down into his chest; sharp enough to knock the wind out, not kill.

"You're learning," Magnolia said over his shoulder to Sam. "Don't get cocky." Vael, breathing hard, turned in a clean arc and brought both her blades down into one final bandit's chest. He slumped.

Silence slowly settled over the camp.

Bodies lay scattered. Blood soaked into dirt. A few tents burned at the edges. The raccoons kicked at their reins in panic. Sam exhaled, the light in his veins pulsing, then fading slightly. The bark on his arms cracked, loosening, retreating back toward his shoulders as if satisfied.

Vael stepped to his side, placing a hand to his cheek. "You're alright," she whispered. "You did it." He met her gaze, wide-eyed and panting. "We did it." Commander Sidney strode into view, eyes sharp. "The camp's secured. One left breathing." She sheathed her blade and added, "And he's going to tell us who the hell sent them."

Magnolia gave a low hum of approval, spinning his staff into a resting position across his back. "Answers will come at dawn," he said. "But for now… let the earth rest. The battle was over, but the aftermath clung to the camp like smoke. The sun had not yet risen, only the faintest silver glimmer touching the horizon. In the early hush of morning, Vael knelt beside the bodies of her fallen kin.

The earth was soft from the night's dew, and her fingers were caked with it; mud, blood, the evidence of lives lost too soon. She worked silently. No royal title separated her from the others now. She was not a princess. She was just a woman helping to bury the dead.

Each body was wrapped in a simple cloth, their faces carefully covered. Her fingers trembled as she closed the eyes of a young soldier she had spoken with just the day before. He had joked about being afraid of the sea. She pressed her forehead to his for a heartbeat before rising.

A little way off, Sam and Magnolia moved between the wounded, binding torn limbs, whispering comfort. The light in Sam's veins still shimmered faintly as he poured water into a wounded soldier's mouth.

Magnolia worked efficiently. He whispered words that soothed feverish minds, applying poultices pulled from pouches and leaf-wrapped bundles he seemed to summon from nowhere. The wounded trusted him, though most didn't know why.

When the last body was laid to rest beneath the earth, Magnolia stood at the head of the row of shallow graves. His face, for once, bore no trace of amusement. He lifted his hands and intoned something in a low, foreign tongue; each word resonating like wind through ancient trees.

Vael closed her eyes, letting the prayer settle into her bones. It wasn't the rites of her people, but it felt sacred all the same. When she opened them again, the sun had crested the hills. The day had begun.