He saw her again, the dead woman on the road from before. Again, she rose and staggered towards Henry in her unsettling, jerky fashion, and again, the squire found himself rooted to the spot by some unknown force. This time though, the woman swiftly reached out and clapped a cold, mottled hand over his mouth before he could scream, leering at him through a set of decayed yellow teeth. The hand pressed harder and harder, until Henry found himself unable to even breathe.

  He woke, his heart racing in his chest, and found that there was indeed a hand clapped tightly to his mouth. He began to thrash about wildly, his arms swinging out in a desperate attempt to gain purchase on his assailant.

  "Shh." It came as a hushed whisper.

  He stopped, his eyes adjusting in the dim light; as his vision slowly came into focus, he could see Arthur above him, his finger to his lips. The woods were still mostly dark, but the sky above was a very dark blue, indicating it was far before sunrise.

  "Stop it." Arthur slowly cocked his head toward the woods, his hand still on Henry's mouth. His expression was calm, but Henry could feel and almost taste the slick sweat on his palm.

  "Someone is here," Arthur whispered. "Just beyond Rebecca's ward. They're spying on us."

  He slowly retracted his hand, and Henry breathed silently.

  "I'm going to outflank them," Arthur continued, gingerly unsheathing his sword; it didn't make so much as a rasp, so smooth was his motion. "You stay here with Rebecca. Wake her, but quietly."

  With that, he slipped away into the dark woods, his footsteps sparse and nearly silent. Henry obeyed and steadily crept to Rebecca, who was still snoring quietly. He gently nudged her, and the snoring stopped instantly.

  "What?" Rebecca groaned, her voice cutting through the stillness.

  Henry cursed his stupidity, having neglected to follow Arthur's example; he swiftly clapped his own hand over Rebecca's mouth, before giving a hushed shh as well.

  To her credit, Rebecca grasped the situation far quicker than Henry had and nodded, turning from her side and onto her belly. Together, the two of them crawled away from the open center of their campsite and against a fallen log, huddling behind it as they prepared themselves. Henry could still feel his heart thundering, from both the nightmare as well as the situation at hand.

  "Where? How many?" Rebecca asked under her breath.

  "I don't know yet," Henry whispered back, his sword drawn. "Arthur's gone out to flank them. We should wait for him to-"

  "What- no, wait!" Rebecca's eyes widened. "The ward! He'll trip the wa-"

  A deafening crack split the silence, followed by a blinding white light that shot up through the trees and into the sky, before it exploded in a brilliant shower of sparks and bursts of light. The treeline was lit up as bright as day, revealing no less than half a dozen figures surrounding them on all sides in the trees.

  The three young travelers had their backs to the center of camp and the blinding light, sparing them the worst of the ward's alarm; the transgressors, however, were all facing towards it and were momentarily stunned by the sudden explosion of dazzling light and cacophonous noise.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Arthur had been mid-stride, caught right in the open when the alarm went off; his position compromised, he tossed aside all subtlety and charged at the nearest figure, his sword a shining lance in the bright light. "Henry! NOW!"

  Henry followed suit and charged as well, letting out an instinctive cry that was lost in the alarm's chaotic noise; he lunged at the figure closest to him, who was still reeling from the effects of the ward.

  The tip of his blade caught the figure's leg, and the man cried out in pain as he doubled over; Henry kicked him to the ground as he withdrew his blade, frantically looking for his next target.

  Something whistled right past his ear and embedded itself into the tree right beside his head; he instinctively ducked low and sprinted for cover behind another tree, breathless.

  Archers. He had brought some small shields along for this exact scenario, but they were tucked away on his saddle, the horses still tied up near the center of camp. He could see them, whinnying and rearing in panic; their reins were still tied to the tree, but with their panicking, it was doubtful they would hold long.

  Another few arrows thudded into the tree he hid behind, making him press against it harder to hide more of his profile; he could hear Arthur's blade clashing with another, several others in fact. The din of their fighting almost masked the sound of rapid footsteps from behind Henry, as he whirled around barely in time to meet the attacker.

  A cloaked man in dark clothing rushed the squire, dagger in hand. Henry swung his blade, but the man easily parried it with his short blade and struck him heavily in his face with his other hand.

  Henry staggered back, his vision momentarily starry and blurred. He raised his sword to ward off any incoming attack from the dagger, but his attacker instead kicked him in the ribs, causing him to stumble and fall.

  The sword clattered from his hands as he fell, and the man was right over him, pinning the squire down on his throat.

  Henry struggled to breathe, his hands frantically trying to gouge at the man's face. It was un-knightly, desperate, something he'd usually never resort to; but in that moment, instinct overtook training, as he clawed uncontrollably in the dark, his fingers sliding off of slick skin as his attacker ignored the squire's fraught attempts and leaned in closer.

  By now, the light from the ward had faded, but the early morning held just enough light for Henry to make out a round, bulbous face leering at him from mere inches away. The man's hot breath washed over him, a putrid odor that tainted whatever little air Henry sucked in, his teeth gleaming in front of Henry's eyes in a wicked sneer as the squire's vision began to ebb into darkness.

  "Got you... you little rat." The man's words dripped with venomous satisfaction as Henry's struggling grew weaker and weaker.

  Just as Henry felt his limbs go limp, a sudden movement from outside the corner of his vision skirted by and crashed straight into the man's head.

  There was no cry, no scream of pain or anguish; the man merely slumped over and rolled atop Henry.

  The pressure released, Henry gasped down a free flow of air and pushed the limp man off of him.

  Rebecca stood over him, her face frozen in fear and shock. A bloodied rock was in her trembling hands, faintly dripping as she stumbled back. "I-I didn't mean-"

  A blade materialized from behind her and pressed against her neck before she or Henry could react.

  "Stop fighting, or I'll kill her." Another cloaked figure, smaller than Henry's attacker but still larger than either of the two travelers, spoke in a hushed but firm tone.

  Henry hesitated; he could still hear the ringing of steel not far away. Arthur fought still; surely, he could-

  The blade pressed into Rebecca's neck, drawing a faint trickle of blood. The mage winced in pain as the man spoke again.

  "Stop. Now."

  Henry threw up his hands in submission. "Alright, alright! I yield!"

  He was seized from behind by another pair of hands, which swiftly shoved him back down and bound his hands with a rope.

  Arthur cried out, before the sound of a blow was heard; Henry grimaced as he heard Arthur tumble to the ground uncontrollably.

  "Tie them up too," the man holding Rebecca said, shoving her to his companion. "They're coming with us."

  "And Lyle? What 'bout him?" One of the figures stooped over the man Rebecca had hit over the head. "I don't think he's breathing, boss."

  "Leave him. Take whatever he had. These buggers will pay for what they've done to him. But slowly."

  A massive blow to Henry's head silenced the world around him, before he fell into unconsciousness.