The glaive whistled through the air, the silver veins in the black blade shimmering in the lamplight. It slammed into a Marradi shield, tearing a deep crack into the wooden slab. Edwin pulled back, as three other soldiers immediately tried to take advantage of his swing by stabbing at his joints and face. Their spears only found armor, and before they could retake their defensive stance, the head of one of them snapped back, a feathered shaft sticking out of his cheek.

“Into the woods!” a voice shouted from among the enemies. “Flank around and surround them!”

“They got more reinforcements again!” one of the adventurers yelled at Bordan, who cursed quietly.

Things had started off well. They ended up in a perfect position for their ambush, allowing them to set fire to over a dozen supply carts before even being spotted. The first foes that came rushing were a single banner of infantry and shouldn’t have proven very difficult to overwhelm. They were followed by another, though, and soon it was the adventurers that were facing superior numbers, especially since they were defending themselves on two sides. What kept them in the fight was a combination of two factors: First was the narrow battlefield, as moving outside of the lamplight that surrounded the carts was a dangerous proposition. The forest floor was uneven and overgrown, and with their eyes accustomed to the light, the darkness was impenetrable. Any single soldier trying to leave the protective formation was immediately cut down by the marksmen hiding in the blackness.

Now that the Marradi had enough forces, they could send entire banners into the forest and root out the adventurers’ fire support. Once they did, their tenuous hold would slip.

“Edwin!” Bordan yelled behind him. He stepped away from his foes and turned, finding his teammate in the press of bodies.

“Gerrack’s unit should be somewhere up ahead, but I need to know how far,” Bordan said, pointing at the cart next to them. “Get up there and have a look!”

“Got it,” Edwin acknowledged, hurrying toward the large vehicle. The cart was a rectangular wooden box, with the top maybe three meters from the ground. He considered handing his glaive to someone else, but the idea of giving away his weapon while this close to the enemy felt incredibly uncomfortable. He pushed the back door closed to shield himself from the flames starting to lick out of the cart, jumped onto the step and pushed off again, hooking the fingers of his free hand over the top edge. He flexed his muscles with a grunt, hauling himself onto the roof in a one-armed pull-up. Standing up into a crouch, he carefully walked to the front of the cart.

The sight was breathtaking. The enemy train meandered through the woods like a fiery snake through a sea of ink. Edwin lost himself to the view for a few seconds before he remembered his mission. Peeking over the edge, Edwin could see a teeming mass of red-uniformed infantry swarming toward them, with a large chunk of them breaking off and marching into the woods, shields held high to ward off arrows. Further on, the train became disorderly, as a number of drivers had apparently tried to overtake the carts before them or turn around – it was hard to tell, but several vehicles stood partially or completely sideways. It was foolish, of course. There was nowhere to go.

Finally, even further ahead, he could make out a cloud of smoke blocking his view. That had to be the next group in the line, Gerrack’s 9-2 if Bordan was right. He thought he saw movement there, but it was too far out and partially blocked by trees, so he couldn’t make out anything useful. For a second or two, Edwin considered jumping down into the sea of enemy soldiers, smashing them under his weight and burying his glaive in those around him. He snorted, turning away. He wasn’t invincible, and letting himself be completely surrounded and slowly bled out had a decent chance of actually killing him. He slid over the edge, halting his fall with his free hand for a moment, then dropped down the rest of the way.

“Several hundred Marradi right in front of us, some flanking through the trees,” he reported to Bordan who was waiting next to where he had climbed up. “I couldn’t make out the next group, but there’s what looks like burning carts maybe six, seven hundred meters ahead.”

“Bones!” Bordan cursed. “We were supposed to be closer. There’s no way we’ll make it through that many enemies in time.”

He leaned against the cart, staring out into the dark forest with a frown.

“So what do we do?” Edwin asked.

“Let me think, you big oaf,” Bordan hissed, and Edwin shut up. Finally, Bordan pushed off from the cart and whistled, waving over the banner officer of the adventurers currently holding the front line.

“We’re falling back,” Bordan told the woman. Her name was Driste, and despite probably being the shortest adventurer Edwin had ever met at little over a meter and a half, she was also among the most dangerous. “You and Gerrit slow them down so the fires can develop, I’ll go on ahead and link up with Erlin, see how he’s doing back there. They’re starting to flank through the trees, so make sure they don’t surround you. We’ve already succeeded in our main objective, so our priority now is to get out with minimal casualties.”

She nodded and stalked off, shouting orders to her banner, while Bordan stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, giving the hand signal to gather. The banner began to crowd around them, the marksmen returning from their hidden positions in the woods, and Bordan filled them in. Moments later they were on their way toward the back of the train, jogging past carts that were starting to belch thick clouds of smoke. After a few minutes they caught up to Erlin’s banner, which was holding back the enemy on the other side of their ambush spot.

“Edwin, take a look!” Bordan snapped as they got close, and Edwin veered off to get up onto the closest cart. Getting up from the front was easier, as that was where the driver’s seat was, so he didn’t need any crazy feats of strength or acrobatics. To his surprise, he wasn’t alone up there, and three figures in brown coats turned around as he pulled himself onto the vehicle.

“Hey,” Edwin greeted the marksmen. “How’s it looking?”

Two of them went back to their sniping, the third stood and waved him closer.

“Good,” he said, pointing as he spoke. “Originally, we were facing a banner of infantry, but they got some more reinforcements after we pushed them hard. See that?”

Edwin followed his finger, easily making out the clump of Marradi maybe three hundred meters ahead.

“That’s the back of our next group. They have to divide their forces to hold both us and them.”

“How many are between us?” Edwin asked, squinting to make out details.

“A full cohort? One and a half? Originally, I mean, they’ve lost quite a few to us and the crossbows in the woods over there.”

“Great, thanks,” Edwin said and climbed back down, relaying the marksman’s words to Bordan who was speaking to banner officer Erlin.

“Alright,” Bordan said once he’d heard both of their reports, “here’s the plan: I’ll send someone back to the others, tell them that we’re pushing back here. Driste can delay the enemy there while Gerrit hoofs it over. His banner flanks left, mine flanks right, we surround the enemies in front and break through. We link up with the next group, setting fire to the carts on the way. Let’s go.”