With the ground hurtling towards him, Jake cast Force/Area/Telekinesis. The wind rushing past him slowed and his feet hit the ground hard.

His knees bent, absorbing the impact easily. A rough landing, but no damage. Good job, Jake.

The wood elven archers stared at him with faces full of fear. Four rows of archers, with children at the front, some barely tall enough to carry their bows. Just how desperate had they gotten? And Reltan appeared to be leading them. That couldn’t be a good sign.

Reltan blinked and glanced at Jake’s missing hand. “Jake?” He pulled himself up straight and barked, “Mark! Draw! Loose!”

Fire-tipped arrows flew at the dungeon spawn, downing far less than Jake would have hoped. Jake recognized a mere handful of them, and those only in passing. There wasn’t a single ranger or even a hunter among them, and many that weren’t children were too old for the battlefield.

Poor skill, poor stats, insufficient training. What the hell had they been thinking, fielding civilians?

He surveyed the area and his heart clenched. Cara!

A corrupted tree’s vines closed in around her legs. She dodge rolled out of its grasp and shot a flaming arrow, igniting the dungeon spawn’s bark exterior.

Her gaze met his for one fleeting moment, swelling his heart with joy. She was alive!

Cara Tolabar So’aroaska

HP: 134/265

Stamina: 67/310

MP: 12/175

Jake’s chest clenched. He had a job to do. He couldn’t afford to get distracted. “Save her,” he said, gesturing to Mage Grimhilt and the two dwarven soldiers.

The soldiers raised their flaming axes and charged into battle, screaming a Dwarvish battle cry. Grimhilt followed behind, readying a Lifebolt for Cara.

Jake forced his focus back to winning the battle. Oil-dowsed arrows were a good idea, but they were nothing compared to Fire magic.

He turned back to the line of archers and bellowed, “Huddle on me!” He gestured to Luther, Zelig, and Alba to watch closely, and set about forging the Fire/Area-Imbue/Ignite. Assuming he didn’t blow everyone up, this would win the day.

The archers notched arrows and huddled in close. They pressed against each other in a tight circle around him, barely leaving room for the mages to watch.

Jake tensed up. This would be a very, very bad time for a miscast, and he had to make it from scratch. Maybe he should have anticipated this, but it was too late for that now. No loose ends, no feedback loops, no unstable connections.

If this worked, he’d be a hero. If not… well.

He poured mana into the hastily assembled spell and held it under a tight leash, missing having two working hands. “Luenkir!”

Fire magic skill increased 5 → 6!

Red magic rippled outward, igniting the arrowheads all around him. It worked, thank the Forest, and the mass of archers scurried back out to their rows with a hint of hope in their movements.

“Got it,” Luther said. “We’ll head left, Jake takes right.” He cast Levitate and flew toward the middle of the battle line, followed closely by Zelig and Alba.

Jake took a deep breath and added a fourth Fire perk point to Power. The more damage, the better.

Beside him, Reltan yelled, “Mark! Front row, draw, loose!”

The volley of fire arrows incinerated several corrupted trees and more than a few wolves. Reltan yelled for the second row to fire, unleashing another volley of fiery death that heavily thinned the dungeon spawn numbers.

Jake glanced at Cara. Freshly healed, supported by Gramok, a nimble ranger (Kegan, maybe?), and the two dwarven axe wielders. She’d be fine.

He downed an MP potion and sprinted to the next block of archers, ignoring the wood elven scream to his left. He couldn’t Heal, and they weren’t going to win this battle by endurance. The faster it was over, the less would die.

“Huddle on me,” Jake shouted, praying they’d listen. Thankfully, they did. He buffed them and scanned the field for the next group of archers.

Where was the next block? His blood ran cold. Scattered, disorganized, and being torn to shreds by wolves. Jake swallowed. The rangers meant to be protecting them were nowhere to be seen.

Dead. They were dead. He’d arrived too late, and the line had broken.

The poor, elderly wood elf in charge of the archers he’d just buffed stared at him, her eyes pleading for direction. Jake glanced ahead. The fire arrows had taken out all the corrupted trees in the immediate area and cleaned up most of the other dungeon spawn. They could afford to aim elsewhere.

“Archers, huddle!” Jake popped another MP potion and winced at the diminishing returns. This wasn’t sustainable. But what choice did he have? “Luenkir!”

Red magic rippled out again and imbued the surrounding arrows with high potency fire effects. Jake pointed to the right at the dungeon spawn running amok. Hopefully, the archers were good enough shots to avoid friendly fire.

“Aim for the corrupted trees. First row, fire!”

The first and second volleys eliminated the trees. The third and fourth heavily thinned the swarm of wolves and snakes. Many of the arrows struck dirt, but at least none of them killed any of the few remaining wood elves.

The wolves that remained howled and fled. Jake’s chest tightened. It couldn’t be. Dungeon spawn, fleeing?

He ordered the archers to fire at will and dashed to the closest archery nest. Jake jumped onto the vine-rope ladder and sighed as his left stump came into view. With a deep breath, he dropped back down and cast Levitate with one hand.

He flew up to the top and stared out at the battlefield. No way. Across the board, the dungeon spawn were fleeing back to the forest. They’d won.

His stomach hardened. They’d won for now. He stared down at the corpses littering the battlefield—mostly dungeon spawn, but more than a few wood elves. The dungeon spawn would respawn. The wood elves would not.

2,316 XP received!

Level increased 10 → 11!

Jake paused a moment and put the stat point into Intelligence. It boosted too much of what he used not to.

Now to count the cost. He hovered down back down and sprinted toward where Cara had been. Please let her be okay.

She came into view, covered in blood and sweat. A flood of warmth rushed through him. Alive! Battered, staring at the floor with a forlorn sorrow, but very much alive.

He ran toward her, his heart racing.

She turned, lifting her chin like it was a Herculean task.

“Cara!”

Her eyes widened. A smile briefly graced her lips, and she sprinted toward him.

He flung his arms around her, holding her tight. Why had he ever left her?

She hugged him back and buried her face against his chest. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, letting go of the world around them and focusing on her pounding heart and frantic breaths.

Time trickled by. Her breathing slowed, syncing with his down to a gentle ebb and flow.

Peace.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too.” She hugged him tighter. “Your hand…”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Only until I die again.”

She chuckled and pulled away. “Why did I ever miss you?”

“Because you love bad ideas.” Jake smiled and slowly opened his eyes, revealing Gramok standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. “Speaking of which, I missed you too, buddy.”

“Yeah, sure you did,” Gramok said, smirking. “Better late than never.”

“I brought friends. I mean, more than those six.”

Cara gazed up at him, her emerald eyes wide and her lips parted. “You did?”

Jake nodded. “They’ll be here in half an hour or so.”

She took his hand firmly in hers and pulled. “Come. Elivala will want to hear all about it.”

The putrid stench of death filled his nostrils as she led him across the battlefield. At least most of the corpses they had to walk around were dungeon spawn.

Wood elves hurried around them, delivering fresh arrows and potions, and moving the wounded. Cara stopped multiple times to provide First Aid and healing to the wounded. Jake watched, silently cursing Death and his own stupidity. Without two hands, even what little First Aid he knew was impossible.

Between helping others, Cara filled him in on some of what they’d missed. She spoke tersely, barely meeting his gaze as she told him about the dryads, how they resurrected each other, and that her squad had managed to capture the corpse of Onora the Forlorn.

Jake paused. Onora sounded familiar, although the pronunciation wasn’t how he’d imagined it. Where had he read that name before?

Probably just a coincidence, another wood elf with the same name. He congratulated Cara on her success and clapped her on the back.

No response. She merely stared at the floor and trudged along ahead of him, ignoring everything until they came upon another injured ranger awaiting First Aid.

Cara fixed the ranger’s broken bone and continued on in silence. This was her people. Her home. Looking on at their suffering was bad enough. It had to be far worse for her.

And yet… that wasn’t all of it. This was more personal than that.

She glanced at him with wet eyes full of a sorrow that stabbed at his heart. Her mouth opened, but she said nothing, and her gaze dropped back to the ground ahead again.

Pain ached in his chest. He should have been there for her. “I’m sorry it took so long,” he said, scuffing his boots against the dirt. “I needed…” He swallowed hard. Corrupted trees or not, he could have come without them. “I needed some time.”

She stopped and pulled him around to face her. “Jake…” Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, paused, and turned away. “Your father. How did it go?”

Jake’s heart shriveled into a twisted knot of pain. He shook his head and looked down at the ground and her bare feet.

She pulled him into another welcome hug. “I’m sorry.”

He swallowed and held her tight. If only the embrace could last forever. “I’ll be alright.” He pulled away and forced out a smile. “Duty calls. We should get to Elivala.”

Cara took a long, deep breath and nodded. She led him onward again, stopping a couple more times to provide aid to the injured.

They found Elivala deep in conversation with Jeremy, Edana, and Luther. Luther and Jeremy competed for the dourest expression possible, while Edana was still panting.

When had Elivala gotten that scar? How bad an injury did it have to be to leave a scar? “Join us,” she said. “Luther has filled us in. We are discussing our next move.”

Luther bowed his head to Jake and Cara before addressing the group. “Dungeon spawn without leadership roam aimlessly. Cutting off the head stopped the attack on Valbort. That is how we will win here.”

“The dryads.” Jeremy exhaled heavily and clenched his jaw. “They won’t show themselves willingly again, and our position won’t get better than this. The moment your forces arrive, we should attack.”

The somber glances being exchanged did not bode well. Jake bit his lip and frowned. There had to be a better plan than fighting them head-on, but what?

Cara shook her head. “No. They’re crafty, those dryads. Sorcha lured us into a trap. The dwarves don’t know the Forest. They’ll be easy prey for hit and runs.”

Elivala held up her hands and shrugged. “What choice do we have?”

Sorcha. Jake’s brow furled. That name… Something about this didn’t add up. “Are all the dryads named?”

“Yes,” Elivala said in a sharp tone. “We’ll need to advance carefully, but we must attack as soon as possible.”

Tingling possibility danced in Jake’s chest. It couldn’t be. Could it? The Order of the Battlemage were dungeon spawn, and as best Jake could tell, long ago they had been regular NPC characters. “The dryads,” he asked, “what are their names?”

Elivala shot him a glare. “They’re here to kill us all. What do their names matter?”

Cara tilted her head and rattled them off. “Sorcha the Fallen, Airleas the Ruinous, Caylin the Noxious, Finvarra the Lost, and Onora the Forlorn. Why?”

Jake’s heart raced. Didn’t Sun Tzu say to know your enemy? “I recognize those names. I know who they were.”