The Rangal Forest greeted her with silence.
Not the silence of a park or garden, where the wind stirs the leaves and birds call to one another in the branches. This was the silence of a dead forest. The silence of waiting.
Amanda stood in a small clearing, surrounded by ancient, moss-covered oaks. The air was damp and cold, slling of rotting leaves and sothing else — sothing ancient that had no scent, yet could be felt on the skin. The forest was watching.
Behind her ca a muffled rustle, and two figures stepped out of the darkness between the trunks. At first they were barely visible — only faint ripples in the air, distorted by invisible armor. Then ca a soft click, and the air shimred, revealing Leo and Torglin to the world.
The dwarf, as always, was the first to break the silence.
“Well, this is so spot you’ve picked, girl,” he grumbled, looking around. “These trees are so old they look like they’re about to start talking. And I’m not sure I’ll like what they have to say.”
“They’re already speaking,” Amanda replied quietly, without turning around.
Leo stepped closer, his face pale but focused.
“My lady, are you certain? If the information is correct, the vanguard of the horde could be here in as little as two days. We… we cannot fight a thousand riders. There are only three of us.”
“Three and the forest,” Amanda corrected.
She finally turned to them. The mask hid her face, but her voice was calm, almost lifeless. Inside, however, everything was boiling.
Two days. At best — two days. In the book, the nomads’ tactics had been simple but effective. First ca reconnaissance. Small detachnts that swept the terrain, searching for convenient paths, ambush sites, sources of water. They were not fools. They would not charge into the forest like blind kittens.
She crouched and began drawing a diagram on the damp earth with a stick.
“Their tactics are always the sa,” she said, and her voice took on a detached, lecturing tone. “Gul-Nadar is no barbarian. He is a military genius. His horde is not a rabble — it is an army. And this army has rules.”
She drew a circle, then several lines radiating from it.
“The main force moves slowly. They carry supply trains, heavy weaponry, war mammoths. Their speed is no more than fifteen kiloters a day. But ahead of them, at a day’s march, cos the vanguard. Light cavalry. Their task is reconnaissance, clearing the area, eliminating small enemy units. And… intimidation.”
“How many?” Leo asked curtly.
“In the book…” She faltered, almost saying “in the book,” but corrected herself in ti. “From experience of past campaigns, the vanguard usually makes up five to ten percent of the main force. If the horde truly numbers in the tens of thousands, then…”
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“Five hundred to a thousand riders,” Torglin finished for her. His face was grim. “And you want to stop them with us? Even if we’re invisible, even if we have these suits of armor, there are only three of us. They’re a wolf pack. We might kill ten, twenty, even fifty. But a thousand?”
“We are not going to kill them,” Amanda said.
The silence grew heavy.
“Then what are we going to do?” Leo asked, bewildernt clear in his voice.
Amanda lifted her head, gazing through the mask at the ancient trees whose crowns closed above them like the vault of a cathedral.
“We will frighten them,” she said softly. “So thoroughly that they will run away on their own. So that those who survive will tell the others: this forest cannot be crossed. An ancient horror lives here, before which their strength is nothing but dust.”
“Frighten the nomads?” Torglin snorted, but there was no mockery in his voice. “Girl, these lads have been looking death in the eye since they were in swaddling clothes. They drink the blood of their enemies and dance on their bones. Their shamans summon the spirits of their ancestors. What could possibly scare n who do not fear death?”
Amanda rose slowly. Her figure seed almost ghostly.
“There are things worse than death,” she said, and sothing in her voice made even the old dwarf shiver. “There are things that make the bravest warriors scream. There are things that haunt them in nightmares until their last days.”
She turned to Leo.
“Do you rember the legend I told you in the palace? About how my people left, and I remained alone?”
Leo nodded, his eyes wide.
“Amanda… my lady… you want to…”
“I want them to see ghosts,” she said. “The ghosts of those they killed. Those who wait for them in these woods. I want the trees to speak with the voices of their dead. I want the wind to carry the scent of their own blood. I want every bush, every stone to remind them that they are mortal.”
She fell silent, staring at her hands. Amanda’s hands. Hands that had never known war, yet now had to work a miracle.
“But how?” Torglin asked, and for the first ti sothing like hope sounded in his voice. “We are not mages. We have the armor, we have agility, we have… well, you. But to create sothing like that… we would need real magic.”
“We have ,” Amanda replied, and though there was no confidence in her voice, there was resolve. “And we have this forest.”
She walked over to the nearest oak and placed her palm against its bark. The tree was cold and rough, yet beneath her fingers it seed to pulse with a faint, ancient life.
“In the book…” She faltered again. “I read that ancient forests rember everything. Every drop of spilled blood, every scream, every footstep. They hold the mory of all who died here. And if one knows how to listen… one can hear their voices.”
“Can you… speak with the trees?” Leo whispered.
Amanda did not answer. She closed her eyes, trying to attune herself to what this body could feel. For a mont it seed she truly heard sothing. Not words. Not sounds. Just… an echo. An echo of sothing very ancient and very sorrowful.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” she said honestly, opening her eyes. “But I must try. Because if I cannot… if we simply try to fight… they will kill us. And Randel… and everyone left in the castle… will die too.”
She looked at her companions. Leo gripped the hilt of his dagger, his face pale but his eyes burning. Torglin frowned, yet the familiar crooked grin was already tugging at his beard — the grin of a man who had just agreed to do sothing insane.
“Fine,” said the dwarf. “Let’s say we scare them. But how? Mist? Voices? Maybe a couple of illusions?”
“Illusions,” Amanda repeated slowly, and a picture began to form in her mind. “Yes. Illusions. But not ordinary ones.”
She crouched over the earth again, drawing new lines.
“We have two days. In that ti we must turn this place into sothing that will make anyone who enters this forest want to leave it at a run. And make sure that those who do leave never wish to return.”
She raised her head, and a new, confident note rang in her voice.
“Listen to my plan…”
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