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.Instead, they melted into the shadows again, leaving the men inside to grumble and wonder aloud why they had been ignored.The fighting raged on, with shouting, horses whinnying in alarm, and the ring of steel on steel everywhere.Kovrim began to think that the druids would win the contest, for it seemed to him as he watched that there were more and more of them and fewer of the silver ravens.That's when he decided it was time to act.Uttering a simple phrase, he instantly found himself on the opposite side of the door, standing next to the bodies of the downed guards.The priest grabbed the log that had been used to bar the door and shoved it aside, prepared to open the portal and lead the Crescents into the woods beyond the camp.But the blaring sound of horns began ringing out through the forest.The clarion call echoed from down the path the Crescents had followed upon arriving at the camp.Kovrim turned just in time to spot a contingent of cavalry bursting into the clearing, charging ahead to attack the scattered, ill-equipped druids.Behind the cavalry, a large force of infantry marched into view, a wide column of troops who maneuvered precisely into a skirmish line and moved through the camp at a steady if not spectacular pace.Damn it to the nine hells, Kovrim thought, yanking the door open.This may get dicey."Hurry!" he said."Before the reinforcements catch us!"The prisoners inside the barn began filing out, turning and making a beeline for the trees.Before even half of the Crescents were out of the prison, though, shouts rose up from nearby.Kovrim spun in time to see a trio of mounted soldiers bearing down on him and the men escaping with him."Run!" he shouted, urging the soldiers to fade into the woods.As the rest of the Crescents fled, Kovrim turned back toward the mounted soldiers, planning a distraction to slow them down and give the men time to escape.Slipping a hand inside his shirt, thepriest removed a bit of parchment he had stored in a secret pocket.He gave it a quick kiss then began muttering a prayer as he crumpled the scrap and made a circular motion with it around his body.The parchment crumbled to dust in Kovrim's hand while at the same time, a glowing field of protective energy sprang up, surrounding his body.He ran toward the cavalrymen, hoping his magical barrier would be enough to protect him from a stray attack or two.In the back of his mind, he began to formulate the words of a final spell, one that he could use to whisk himself away from the fighting.When the time comes, he told himself.Not too soon, though.Must give them time to get deep into the woods.The first of the cavalrymen began to twirl a light mace menacingly, and Kovrim darted in the opposite direction, hoping to lure the soldier along with him.The priest huffed and puffed as he zigzagged through the camp, trying to draw attention to himself while at the same time avoiding being cornered.The woodland folk had gone into a full retreat, it seemed, for there were only the dead among them still within the confines of the camp.It became apparent that he was alone in his frantic plan, and more and more mounted soldiers closed in about him, trying to contain him.He felt a bit foolish, like a lone chicken in a fenced yard, running willy-nilly all about, trying to keep himself off the chopping block.When a mounted soldier approached him with a halfspear leveled at his chest, Kovrim stopped and raised his arms out to his sides as a show of surrender.He began to speak the words of that last spell, ready to send himself instantly over many miles of terrain in an instant, all the way back to Arrabar, where he would regroup and bring reinforcements to aid the stranded Crescents.Before he could complete the triggering phrases, though, something struck him hard from behind, on the back of the head, and he sank to his knees, stunned.The words of the spell vanished from his mind, and blackness replaced them.• • •Kovrim slowly came awake with a throbbing pain at the base of his skull.He discovered, to his dismay, that he had a large, leather-wrapped bar of steel rammed into his mouth like the bit of a bridle
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