Valdon sprinted through the woods, using the ancient trunks to prevent his pursuers from being able to acquire a clear line of fire at him. His muscles burned with exhaustion and his mind was stretched to the limit as he listened for the tell-tale whistling of the feathers on arrows that indicated a shot coming too close for comfort. If it hadn't been for his skills, honed over the years as a scout, combined with knowing this area like the back of his hand, he would have been caught hours ago. He took a sharp step to the left and lamented that he could not even spare a single breath to sigh in relief as the arrow missed him by a hair's width. He settled for letting the corners of his lips twitch upwards for a brief moment, forming the ghost of a smile. That evaporated a moment later as he heard the barking of dogs.

He cursed himself for having dropped his weapons in order to lessen his load, then realised that if he had not done so he would not have lasted as long as he had. His pursuers were relentless, and well trained. He did not fear for his own life, that was entirely inconsequential in this matter, but he had to reach Lanas and warn them. Warn them of the massive army that was trailing behind him, with their vanguard hot on his tails.

The city always had scouts out at a surprisingly far distance and was seen as the pinnacle of civilisation in a fairly wide radius. The Mayor led it with strict, but fair rules and under his guidance the city had blossomed into a true marvel, with wide, clean roads. It was prosperous, with schools educating its population in matters of physical, spiritual, philosophical and magical nature, which in turn led to further prosperity as that knowledge was applied. Traders from all over the known world visited the marketplace outside its walls to trade in artifacts, tools, resources and so much more. As a result of its wealth, it had been the envy of many nearby kingdoms, none which had ever managed to reach the right mixture of arrogance and stupidity to launch an assault. Aside boasting considerable wealth, both in finances and even more so in technology, it had tremendous defensive capabilities as the city boasted tall, sturdy walls, as well as every citizen doubling as a member of the militia. Even if, given their military capabilities, militia was a very belittling term.

Yet all that would not last against the oncoming storm. The city only boasted a population of roughly twenty thousand, and the army approaching them, what little he saw of it, boasted at least twenty times that number, and was marching under the flag of the Kingdom of Maltora, meaning that this was not an ill-conceived offensive, but a meticulously planned invasion led by capable officers.

Valdon's thoughts were interrupted as he felt a sizzle in the air and he abruptly reversed directions, running in the direction of his pursuers. It saved his life as a bolt of energy crashed into a tree a scant few feet ahead of him and evaporated everything in a small radius. The shockwave of the blast launched him even closer to the enemy and he lay on the ground, thoroughly disorientated, his muscles aching all over. He was nearing his limit and he knew it.

He gritted his teeth and willed down the despair that was forming a tight knot in his stomach. He got to his feet again, unstable, but unwilling to yield despite the near-overwhelming pain. He ignored the blood streaming down from a gash in his head and started running again. The barking of the dogs was even closer now. He knew he had only a few minutes remaining. He had used every trick he had at his disposal to delay them — led them into the territory of wild animals, tried to trap them in the more swampy areas while he ran ahead using the few well-hidden dry patches, luring them into a remarkably dense undergrowth and trying to shake them off between the leaves and the trees. He had gained time, but all his efforts had only delayed the inevitable.

He heard the tell-tale whistling again and threw himself to the side. His tired body tried to obey, but the hard landing had taken too much out of him and he couldn't dodge the arrow in time. He screamed in pain and fruitless rage as it nailed him in the shoulder, perforating his lamellar armour and the gambeson underneath. Most of the sting had been taken out of the impact, but it was another drop into a rapidly filling bucket. His right shoulder protested as the muscle was grinding against the invasive arrowhead, preventing him from using his right arm. With a primitive scream he reached for the shaft with his left hand and tried to pull it out. Another scream left his mouth and tears filled his eyes as he heard the condemning sound. The shaft had snapped and the head remained lodged in his shoulder.

Overcome by the pain, his legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed on the ground, the sound of blood pounding in his ears blocking out everything else. He tilted his head slightly, and pulled out a small knife with his left hand. He gnashed his teeth, felt them nearly break under the pressure, and forced himself to roll onto his back. Slowly, taking much longer than he liked, he felt how the pain receded slightly as a final bout of adrenaline kicked in.

He sat up, dragging his body to lean against the nearest trunk and prepared himself for a final, defiant stance. He didn't have to wait long. Within moments the first dogs came running out of the undergrowth, saliva coating their mouths, their small eyes glittering with malice and blood-lust as they spotted their wounded prey. The biggest one, leading the pack, launched itself at him. With a scream that was filled with grim determination, he forced his useless arm to move and threw it up. The dog's maw opened and his teeth sank into it.

It was a strange sensation. He could see how the teeth bit through flesh and bone, hear with perfect clarity how the bite broke his arm, saw the splinters poking out of his skin through the blood that gushed out of the wound. Time slowed down, allowing him to appreciate how the sharp slivers of pain that surged through his body gave him the energy to perform a final, tiny act of resistance. His left arm shot up, using up the last bits of strength that he still had within him. A stray ray of sunlight was reflected off the blade as it crossed the small distance.

The tip made contact with the dog's skull, right underneath the ear where the skull was quite thin. It offered the tiniest bit of resistance before it broke. The skin rolled back, the blade piercing through the flesh as he drove the knife into the dog's brain. The teeth came up from his arm as the dog started yelping in pain. He felt his own scream gain in strength as his lungs struggled to push out the breath that supplied it. With sadistic glee in his eyes, Valdon saw how the dog was smashed aside as the yelp was cut off by his knife slicing the beast's brain apart.

As the second dog was nearing, a mere moment away from jumping at him and tearing him apart, he made peace with himself. He had done all he could. He had taken one enemy with him, and possibly others when he had lured them into wild animals. He directed his last thoughts to his home city and prayed that it would weather the oncoming siege. He closed his eyes, expecting darkness to overtake him.

His expectations were betrayed when a flash of light erupted instead, followed by a thunder so loud it physically knocked him back against the trunk.

Mayor Deftis lowered his hand, the air around him crackling with energy. He overlooked the carnage as the men around him ran towards Valdon. Mia closed her eyes for a brief moment and opened them again, her irises having turned a pure green. Her hands slid across the downed scout's body as she deftly wove thread after thread of rejuvenating energy between herself and him.

"You damn near cooked him!" she yelled at the Mayor, before nodding and adding a slightly more deferential 'sir' at the end.

"Just focus on him," Deftis replied. He shook his hand briefly to extinguish the last of the flames dancing around it. In front of him the forest was simply gone, completely turned to ash, along with Valdon's pursuers. Two dogs were lying on the ground, smoke twisting from their hides. They had been caught by the heatwave of the massive pillar of fire that Deftis had launched at the enemy in a desperate gamble to save his scout. A third lay half on top of the unconscious, wounded scout, an arrow piercing the beast's thick neck. The rest of the small party secured the area, making sure that no other enemies could take them by surprise while Mia healed the scout.

Deftis walked over to his wounded scout and knelt down next to Mia. "How is he?"

"Bad. It's a miracle he survived this long. He must have been running for damn near two days to get this close to us. Damn it all sir, you should have pulled them back the moment you caught wind of Maltora's invasion."

"I needed the information," Deftis coldly replied.

"Couldn't you have acquired it some other way? We've lost a good number of men already, and the war hasn't even begun!" the healer protested.

"Do not second guess me, Mia. Heal him to the point he can answer my questions, then we retreat. The rest can come later. The Maltorans are too close." Deftis stood up. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he had an aura about him that made him seem imposing. This was further enhanced by his stocky built, seeming more like a man who had spent several lifetimes working in a port unloading heavy cargo than as one who ran a city. His cold, mud-brown eyes further added to that image.

Mia was about to make a snarky response when a groan pulled her attention away. "Valdon? Valdon! Stay still! You're safe now. You're with us."

Valdon's head lolled back, his neck not having regained proper functionality. His eye sockets were scorched all over, but if the man was suffering from being nearly cooked alive by the heat wave, he did not show it. "M-Mia?"

Deftis ignored the tears on the woman's face as she tenderly held the head of her husband in her arms. "Valdon, what is coming for us?" he interrupted, earning a murderous glare from Mia which he completely ignored.

"Who... Mayor? Sir? Is that you?" The scout's wounded eyes stared into Deftis' direction, unable to see the man in front of him.

"It's me, Valdon. What is coming for us?" Deftis asked, his voice gentle, but insistent.

"Sir," the scout croaked, relief flooding his face as he sagged down, his entire body relaxing as he realised that he had achieved his goal. "At least two hundred thousand men, sir. Less than a week away at the speed they're marching. Heavy troops and mages—" a cough interrupted him, and he drew a gargled breath.

"He needs to rest!" Mia growled at the Mayor, trying to push him aside.

This time Deftis was the one to throw a withering glare at the mage, who promptly collapsed under it. She was left whimpering quietly.

"—aplenty." Valdon continued. "And engineers. Too many for us. I didn't see it all, sir."

Deftis turned back towards Valdon, freeing Mia from the spell she was under. She let out a sigh of relief and collapsed, throwing her entire focus on healing her husband. "You did well Valdon. I won't forget this. Lanas owes you a great debt."

The Mayor rose. Gathering his party with a shout, he began to issue orders. Within moments a stretcher had been made and Valdon was gently placed on top of it, Mia staying glued to her wounded husband.

"We return to Lanas with post haste. Niller, Vilsen, Ritta warn the outlying villages, tell them to poison everything and set as many boobytraps as they can, they have till tomorrow evening, then they must retreat to the city. Mandark, run to the Mansion, ask the Master for back up, we cannot achieve victory with what we have. Linsa, leave signals for the rest of our vanguard. Have them run interference and ambush any scouts that Maltora sends out. I want them blind. I will arrange a more fitting welcome as soon as we reach home. We'll give them a welcome befitting of our glorious city."

The men and women in question nodded and stormed off to fulfil their tasks, leaving a handful behind to escort the wounded scout and the Mayor back. The group picked up speed as they all but rushed through the dense forest with surprising ease for city-folk. Mayor Deftis' eyes swirled with barely suppressed anger.

They dare attack MY city. The city I was assigned to protect! He knew that the forces he had at his disposal would not survive a direct assault and would be quickly overwhelmed, but if it turned into a siege he should have a chance to hold out long enough to make the invaders lose their morale.

Either way, whether the city survived or not, Maltora would not survive as a kingdom by the time this war was over. This he knew to be as true as his name and sigil.