Early morning twilight brought chaos to the Dunn camp.
It started just as the sky was starting to lighten with Sir Cynwrig dashing through the camp in his dressing gown, clutching a piece of parchment and shouting for his wife, Cerys, and his son Dalwyn.
Several servants rubbed sleep from their eyes, emerging from their tents to the sight of one of the Dunnâs proudest knights looking like a lunatic without so much as socks on his feet as he rushed toward the lines of horses where one of the servants had just noticed that a horse was missing.
Ollie emerged from the tent he shared with Liam Dunn with a feeling of deep dread at the sight. He was already starting to understand why Ashlynn had warned him about abusing Essence of Sleep, but with everything going on, heâd been unwilling to allow himself the time for a full nightâs sleep. After drinking down another bottle of the potent potion last night, followed by a few hours of rest, he felt refreshed and ready to face the day, but before the day could begin, things were already tense.
"Sir Cynwrig," Ollie called as he jogged across the camp to the harried-looking knight who hadnât even noticed that his dressing gown had fallen open. Moving quickly, Ollie took the fur-lined cloak off from around his own shoulders and wrapped it around the dishevelled-looking knight. "Whatâs wrong?"
People were starting to gather, and some of the other knights were sticking their heads out of their tents, similarly wearing a cloak over a dressing gown or even less, despite the chill of the morning air.
"Sir Ollie," Cynwrig said, struggling to pull himself free of the panic that gripped his heart when he saw the man who had triggered his current disaster. "It Cerys," he said, looking at Ollie with wide eyes that trembled with emotion. "She took Dalwyn, and she, she ran away. She said that she canât..."
"Cynwrig!" Ollie hissed at the knight, clapping one hand over his mouth as he used the other to guide the distressed knight toward the tent that belonged to Baron Loghlan and Lady Mairwen. Heâd heard enough to know that the older knightâs pious wife had taken their son and fled, likely because she couldnât stomach consorting with âdemonsâ, but anything else that Cynwrig said out in the open could only cause more...
-TING- -TING- -TING- -TING- -TING-
"Demons! Demons and dark witchcraft! Demons!"
-TING- -TING- -TING- -TING- -TING-
The shouting was accompanied by the high-pitched ringing of a handbell, carried by one of the campâs watchmen who was running from the direction that Ollie had gone last night when he took his walk to the cops of trees where he met with Harrod and Milo.
If a knight stumbling through camp in nothing but a dressing gown and a loincloth had been enough to draw people out of their tents, the alarm cry of a watchman was enough to provoke a frenzy of activity.
Some servants ducked back into their tents, hiding themselves away while they prayed to the Holy Lord of Light that Lord Loghlan and his knights could protect them. Others rushed for the wagons, tossing everything from camp furniture to trunks of clothing onto the hard, frozen ground in order to make room for people to pile into the wagons if they needed to flee.
But Ollie saw none of it. His eyes were fixed on the horizon where a trail of brilliant purple smoke stood out starkly against the lightening sky, as if Lady Nyrielle had dipped a brush in paint and drawn a line from the ground to the heavens above.
âSend Help.â
"Harrod," Ollie whispered as his heart stopped in his chest. "Or Milo... What...?"
It took a pair of heartbeats for his mind to start working again, but when it did, he focused his attention on the bell-ringing watchmen, shouting at him with all of the authority he could muster.
"You there!" Ollie yelled, doing his best to imitate Sir Thaneâs commanding presence. "You were watching in that direction?" Ollie asked, pointing toward the column of purple smoke. "Did you see a woman leaving camp this morning, headed that way? Maybe with a small child?"
"A, a woman, yer lordship?" the guard asked in confusion. "I think I did, saw her that is..."
"Cerys," Cynwrig said, his eyes going wide in horror. "Sir Ollie, you donât think..?" he asked, his voice trailing off as he was unable to make himself complete the thought.
"I donât think, I know," Ollie said grimly. "My friends are that way."
"Liam!" Ollie shouted, turning back towards the tent that his companion was just emerging from. "Handle this," he said, gesturing to the campâs chaos. "Iâll handle that," he said, pointing to the trail of purple smoke. "Just keep everyone away from it. Cyrnwrig, come with me," Ollie said, all but dragging the man with him as he raced toward the horses.
To his credit, Liam wasted no time in taking control of the chaos. His father had only just emerged from his tent, but Liam was already shouting orders for the people at the wagons to cease their frantic work and to help the soldiers don their armor. According to Liam, no one was to leave camp until Sir Ollie returned with word of what was happening.
Surprisingly, Ladies Eira and Morwen emerged from the tent theyâd shared looking like theyâd dressed quickly before rushing to Liamâs side.
"My lord," Eira said, giving only the briefest of curtsies. "How can we help?"
"There are women who are panicking," Liam said, pointing to a group of maidservants who were doing everything from dropping to their knees in prayer to arming themselves with heavy iron pans and iron fire-pokers. "You understand whatâs happening," he said, giving a brief look to Lady Morwen, who most certainly didnât. "Sir Ollie will handle things; we just need to restore order."
"At once, my lord," Eira said before grabbing Morwenâs hand and pulling the younger lady along with her.
"Eira," Morwen asked, glancing over her shoulder to see Sir Ollie leaping astride a horse as soon as it had been fitted with a bit and bridle, without even bothering with a saddle in his haste to leave camp. "Is Sir Ollie really that powerful? If there are demons or witches..."
"Then Sir Ollie will handle them," Eira said confidently without bothering to look in the young knightâs direction. Lord Liam said that Ollie would handle it, and that he needed her to help calm people, so thatâs exactly what she would do... Everything else wouldnât be up to her, so she would focus on what she could do instead of borrowing worry about things she couldnât.
At the edge of camp, Ollie held out a hand to Sir Cynwrig, pulling the man onto the horse behind him before tapping the horseâs ribs with the toes of his boots. He wasnât nearly as good of a rider as Sir Thane was, and it would be impossible for him to fight from horseback without a saddle and stirrups to support himself, but right now, he didnât need to fight; he just needed to reach the purple smoke as quickly as he could.
"Hold on," Ollie said as he urged the horse into motion. "Weâre not going far, but... we might already be too late..."