upon one's philosophy — to set that first tree in motion without giving away the trap's location. Even though it was a suicide mission, someone volunteered.
Mawser.
When Kelemvor gave the signal, the worshiper of the Goddess of Luck jumped from the tree nearest to the road. Mawser had been hidden by the invisibility spell as he sat at the top of the tree, tied to it by a short rope. And when he jumped, his weight set the first tree in motion. But he also appeared in midair, as the invisibility spell was negated by the fact the trees were now weapons on the attack.
As Mawser plummetted toward the Zhentilar, fifty huge trees falling behind him, he said a prayer to the Goddess of Luck to protect him, to somehow let him survive the fall and the crush of the trap.
Kelemvor didn't see the Zhentish arrow pierce Mawser's throat. The thin man was dead before he hit the ground.
But the trap worked. The trees crashed down on the Zhentish soldiers, killing or injuring at least a third of them. Kelemvor let out a yell, and the dalesmen followed his lead. Though the plan had been carefully orchestrated, no one was ever really positive that it would work. But, now, as the fighters and archers from the Dales watched Bane's men scramble to save themselves from the incredible network of falling trees, they had no other option but to believe their senses.
Luck is with us this morning, Kelemvor thought, as he broke from his blind and signaled for the next phase of the attack to begin.
Hawksguard had stationed a group of archers in the forest behind the falling trees, and any of the bowmen who had retreated from positions farther east on the road to Voonlar also knew to fall back to the trees behind the trap. Now that the trap was sprung, the archers fired down into the tangled maze of fallen trees that lined the road. They loosed their arrows at any hint of movement in the trap, and hundreds of Zhentish soldiers who had escaped being crushed were killed or wounded by the archers. Despite the efforts of the archers, despite the fall of the gargantuan trees, Bane's troop still pressed on.
From his position in the trees west of the trap, Kelemvor caught a glimpse of the remainder of the Zhentilar. Already they were attempting to advance, even though they could do little more than crawl beneath the fallen trees or climb over them. The Zhentish cavalry that was not crushed in the attack had been rendered useless. Kelemvor's ground forces waited near the edge of the forest. He had hoped that even if the traps didn't rout the Zhentilar, the dalesmen's layered defense would at least slow the God of Strife's troops down.
If Bane's troops pushed past the tree trap, Kelemvor's men would rush out and attack. Then, if things went badly, they would pull back and the archers would provide covering fire for them. If things went well, the Zhentilar might be forced back to the wall made by the fallen trees, where the archers from the dale could continue to cut them down with little fear of return fire. If Bane's men were foolish enough to enter the forest to get at the archers, they'd be wiped out by Kelemvor's troops, who knew how to fight in the forest far more effectively than the Zhentish.
Kelemvor had not planned for the power of the wizard Sememmon, however. The information Mourngrym had received from Thurbal indicated that Bane had placed a prohibition on the use of magic, as magic was unstable and thus unreliable in so important a conflict. Few magic-users would even be allowed to march against the Dales, and those powerful mages that were allowed to fight, like Sememmon, were made officers.
Now, Sememmon stood in the easternmost section of the road hit by the tree trap. One of the trees hung just over his head, as if it had been stopped by a wall of force. The top section of the tree, past the magic-user's defenses, had fallen to the ground, its trunk shattered. Then the wizard walked out from under the tree and released his spell. The oak crashed to the ground, and Sememmon turned and called out to his men.
'We must use magic to push through this trap or we'll be slaughtered,' he cried. 'Bane be damned!' Then the mage quickly spoke an incantation and threw another spell.
Ten massive fireballs blasted a path through the tangle of trees before Sememmon, killing the Zhentish soldiers trapped beneath them and setting the tangle of trees ablaze. 'No!' the wizard screeched. 'That isn't the spell I called!' He attempted another spell. The ground seemed to shake, as if an earthquake had been called into existence. A symphony of cries erupted from the frightened soldiers surrounding the magic-user.
'You'll kill us all, you fool!' someone shouted.
Sememmon recognized the voice, despite the cacophony of sound from the road. 'Knightsbridge,' he said in hoarse wonder. 'You survived — '
Before the shocked wizard could finish his sentence, Knightsbridge struck him with the flat of his sword. The tremors stopped as Sememmon fell.
'Onward for Bane!' Knightsbridge yelled. 'Onward for glory!'
A cadre of archers from Bane's army fired flaming arrows into the trees where the archers of Shadowdale had been stationed. Some of the dalesmen fell, others managed to make their pre-arranged retreats. Waiting with his men, Kelemvor felt a moment of panic as he watched the fire the Zhentish had created. If the flames spread in the forest, a blaze of unimaginable proportions could begin. If the woods burned, it would only be a matter of time before the fields of the dale were caught in the inferno, and all of Shadowdale would be destroyed.
A young lieutenant named Drizhal, a boy less than twenty winters old, stood at Kelemvor's side, sharing the fighter's concerns. The gangly youth was running a hand nervously through his bright yellow hair as he listened to the veteran warrior.
'If only there was a magic-user at our side,' Kelemvor said. 'I finally understand Mourngrym's frustration at Elminster's decision not to join the battle at the front. We're faced with this blaze while that old relic is off preparing some 'arcane defense' of his own.'
'It isn't fair,' Drizhal said, his voice cracking.
Kelemvor looked to the younger man. 'Are you afraid?'
Drizhal said nothing, his expression telling all.
'Good!' Kelemvor said. 'Fear keeps you sharp. Just don't let it get in the way.'
The youth nodded, his terror seeming to lessen.
On the besieged road, Knightsbridge led the Zhentilar through the smoldering gauntlet of fallen trees. As the troops passed him, the wizard Sememmon rose on uncertain legs and attempted yet another spell. The men on every side of the wizard scattered as best they could, fearful of the unpredictable effects of magic.
Bolts of flaming red energy left the wizard's hands, then went wild as an arrow from one of the archers of Shadowdale pierced the mage's shoulder. Sememmon fell, and the bolts of energy flew over Knightsbridge's head and carved a path into the trees near Kelemvor. The wizard screamed in pain as a pair of soldiers dragged him to safety.
Knightsbridge saw the dalesmen scattering from where Sememmon's bolt had cut through the trees and ordered the Zhentilar to attack while the enemy was still in confusion. If Bane's army was fatigued from the night of marching through enemy territory, facing death with every step, it didn't show as they charged toward Kelemvor's men. The Zhentish seemed renewed, hungry to finally pay back some of the agonies that had been inflicted upon them during the trek from Voonlar.
Near the western edge of the forest, Kelemvor quickly gathered the leaders of his assault teams. Drizhal remained at the fighter's side.
'There's no chance of dragging them into the woods,' Kelemvor said. 'All we can do is face the enemy directly and try to keep them from breaking through to Shadowdale too quickly. We'll implement a layered defense right here and try to slow them down.'
The leaders hurried to their men and informed them of the plans as Kelemvor watched Bane's army emerge from the opening the wizard had created in the fallen trees.
The last of the refugees had left down the Ashaba, and none of the soldiers had left their posts at the bridge to join their brothers at the eastern front. Nevertheless, Cyric skirted the length of the bridge every hour, checking and rechecking its defenses and keeping the men alert.
The thief was on Forester's side of the bridge, opposite from Shadowdale, when the sounds of the battle in the west reached him. The men on the other shore started talking loudly. Cyric turned to Forester.
'Keep to your position,' the thief said. 'I'd better go warn the others to settle down.'
Cyric climbed up onto the bridge. He was almost to the gateposts when he heard the sound from the road to the west — riders approaching at a gallop. The thief scrambled back to the ditch and signaled the fighters at the
