'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…
Gingerly, the mercenary officer bit down on the slug and felt its fluids bathe his tongue. He grimaced, but surprisingly, the taste was not as bad as he had thought. Before he could think too much about what it was that he was eating, Vambran chewed up the morsel and swallowed it.
'Another?' the elf asked. Vambran nodded, and she fed him two more. Then she offered him a drink from his own waterskin. Vambran was thankful for the chance to wash the remnants of the slugs out of his mouth. Regardless of their taste, he didn't think he'd ever make a habit of eating them. Once the rest break was over, the druids hoisted their prisoners to their shoulders and the group was on its way once more.
After traveling for perhaps another hour, the entourage came upon a large section of exposed rock that jutted up out of the ground. The leader guided them all to a narrow crack that ascended like a ramp to the top of the formation. Vambran eyed the walls of the crevice, close in on either side of himself, as his bearers hauled him through it. More than once, his shoulders scraped painfully against the stone as he swayed along, but the two druids carrying him did not seem to care. Finally, they emerged onto an open, sunny platform of stone, surrounded on three sides with rock walls that were dotted with caves. There were several other individuals there ahead of the group and signs that the place was inhabited on a regular basis.
A small fire burned in a shallow pit near the center of the open area, though the pit was wide enough to accommodate a much larger conflagration, and apparently did from time to time, judging from the ash and soot that coated it. Several large logs had been dragged up to the platform, too, and those served as benches for a number of folk who sat around the fire, talking quietly or sipping at steaming mugs of something that boiled in a kettle. Several rugs and mats woven of rushes and vines covered much of the surface of the platform, and numerous buckets and skins were set off to one side, most of them holding water.
As Vambran and the other prisoners were hauled into the middle of the open area, the folk who had already been there eyed them with some interest. The six prisoners were unceremoniously set down on the rock. Vambran groaned as he settled flat, feeling the strain in his back and neck finally ease. He closed his eyes for a moment and shifted his bound wrists and ankles about, trying to encourage circulation to return to them.
When he opened them again, a woman, a human of middling years with dark brown hair woven into braids that were interspersed with feathers and bits of colored stone on leather thongs, was standing over Vambran, studying him with a critical eye that was a piercing emerald color. She said something to the man in the same undecipherable language the lieutenant had heard previously, from the scouts. His guide answered her with a long explanation of some sort, gesturing more than once at Vambran as he did so. The woman frowned and shook her head, but the man grew animated, even angry, seeming to insist on something.
Just when it seemed that the pair might actually come to blows, another figure approached, hopping down from somewhere previously unseen atop the cliff face. It was Arbeenok who approached cautiously, nodding repeatedly, as though he wanted to speak but was afraid of interrupting. At his arrival, the other two quieted, and the woman gestured for him to speak.
His voice was deep and resonant, rich and warm. He spoke in the same language the other two had been conversing in, which Vambran had come to assume was the language of the druids. Whatever Arbeenok was saying, the other two listened respectfully. At one point, he gestured toward the lieutenant and his companions, then toward the caves lining the cliff walls of the area.
Vambran turned and peered at the openings in the cliffs and noticed for the first time that some of them had been secured with stout cage walls set right into the stone. He could see no visible doors or means of moving the frames, which were constructed of stout saplings. He turned back to the conversation, wondering just what fate the trio was deciding for him and the other captured Crescents.
Finally, the woman nodded and waved toward the caves. The human scowled and shook his head, but she made a sharp, cutting motion that indicated the end of the conversation. The man turned, still scowling, and motioned to his associates, who hoisted Vambran and the others into the air once more.
The druids lugged the prisoners toward one of the caged-off caves. As they drew near, the frowning man muttered something, while at the same time gesturing at one of the saplings. The timber creaked and groaned as it began to magically curl up, and Vambran could see that both ends had previously been set into round holes cut into
