Moving among the many townsfolk and refugees, wearing the magical disguise of an old human male in worn farmer’s garb, Egress watched the people of Swinden, as they hurriedly evacuated their town in central Humboldt Bruit.  Those who had already fled danger, were able to take to the road again more quickly, with word of the force approaching from the east.

He had heard the head-strong lad, Sandrew Turamar, all of 11 years old, the night before, in the town hall meeting.  As his great-uncle and leader of the town’s militia, old Sergeant McNamara, was talking with the commander of the visiting royal troops about the town’s defense, he noticed Sandrew and ordered him out.

Glumly but obediently, the lad left.

Egress had called to the boy next to the building’s corner, telling him to keep his chin up, and to watch for the opportunity to tell the tale of the city’s defenders.  The brief conversation had been enough to plant one part of a spell of manipulation in the young mind.

Now, unnoticed while mumbling phrases from a small parchment, directing his eyes at his unwitting pawn, Egress guided the boy to charismatically tell his mother he was going to help another family with their wagon.  Then to quietly slip away.

Like a beacon, Sandrew walked up the slope of the southern meadow stretching out from the city, and crawled into the giant, rotted-out log that had been his favorite hiding place for as long as he could remember.  Staring out through the cracks and gaps in the bark, he overlooked the town, and waited.

As dusk approached, and the enemy legion moved into position against Swinden’s east end, Egress broke the silence with his disguised voice.

“Ho, boy!  What are you doing here?!”

A very surprised Sandrew popped his head out of the log, to regard the old man who had miraculously spotted him.

“I’m watching my family,” he plainly said back.

“Boy, of all the dimwitted things!  Get out of here!”

“I can’t walk away when my cousin and uncle are fighting!  Look at them down there!  I have to watch and tell their tale.”

‘Good lad’, Egress thought to himself.  “All right.  Stay here and stay quiet!  I’m going to find anyone who hasn’t made it out yet!  If I’m not back in two hours, run!  Take the western road!  But don’t wait for me!”

Then he trudged off into the trees.  As soon as he was out of sight, he dropped his magical disguise, and went to find the minions of his master.

As an uzruul with superior heat-sensing eyes, it was odd for Egress to carry a torch at night, but as he walked into the southern meadow, he had to make sure no one would use infra-vision.  He stood overlooking Swinden, exposing his stark white hair and night-dark skin to his young witness.

Fortunately, Egress heard no whimpers, or even a fidgeting scuff from inside the old fallen tree.  Thanks to his positioning, anyone who came up to him would not be looking where the child sat concealed.

He stood a little downhill, as they both watched the battle unfold below.

The defenders were putting up a good fight, and did start pushing the orc forces back.

When Grilch came tromping up right on schedule, Egress told him clearly in common tongue, to have their forces meet from north and south, and the resistance would be crushed.

The orc simply growled and scratched his chin.

“They wouldn’t have to be crushed, if you just followed orders!” Nazzrant snapped, as he walked up in a huff, another Daghaivan wizard by the name of Mohlake following close behind.  “And why are you holding a torch?”

“Just making sure you did not stumble too badly on your way here,” the uzruul said, with delighted sarcasm.  Then he turned to Nazzrant, with a dark gleam in his eyes.  “I have faith in our fighters.”

“Have faith in greater powers, Egress,” Nazzrant sneered, as he pointed downhill.

A strange, green fog suddenly crept into the space held by the human line.  They became more obscured, and yells from the human host echoed up the hill, as they staggered.  Then more and more of them stopped moving altogether.

The closest orcs retreated, dozens of them running away from the deadly haze.

The unfortunate humans fell by the score, clutching their throats, strangling and gurgling.  Egress listened to the garroting noises echoing up the hill, as they struggled and thrashed in their last moments of life, joined by the orcs who had not moved fast enough.

He silently stared, as one more figure, neither dead nor stumbling, walked out of the mist.

The hooded body ascended the slope.  The orc let out a curious growl.  Nazzrant let out a chuckle.

Maguleth got closer, revealing his ghost-like, bony form, with red-glowing sockets and worn robes.

The undead wizard came to stand before the quartet.  The foursome was more spread out, as the orc drifted a couple feet away from the elf.

“Master,” the uzruul asked.  “Why are you here?”

“To fix the battle you nearly botched.  You directed Nazzrant to send too few forces to take this town.”

He turned his skeletal face to the orc.  “Finish it!”

Grilch turned and ran down the hill, where the sparse sounds of battle could still be heard.

“It’s good they called me,” Maguleth continued, as Egress glanced at Nazzrant.  “They were right.  You are slipping.”

“So I tell them,” the dark elf replied, glowering at the human, “to stay out of it.  And you come.  Unnecessarily.”

“I think I was needed,” the lich hissed.  “We’re here to win.”

“If that’s the case,” the uzruul said, his voice suddenly rising with frustration, “why keep up these raids?  We’ve stretched their defenses!  They’re helpless to stop us no matter which direction we come from!

“We have over 30,000 troops ready to march on their precious Sudat’no!  Let us roll over them, and our dagger will be poised at Humboldt’s throat!”

“Not until the proper time!” Maguleth roared.  Then he raised his hand in an all-too familiar pinching motion.

The uzruul groaned and doubled over.  The torch fell and hissed on the moist grass, as he sat on his knees, biting back his pain.

“We will make our move when the spell is complete!  And you will not misdirect our forces again!”

He lowered his gesturing arm, and Egress caught his breath.

Panting, the uzruul proudly started rising back to his feet.

“Is that understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

Maguleth gestured to the side, and a bluish glowing disc appeared on the ground.  He stepped into it, as if walking down stairs.  As he disappeared beneath the surface of the ground, the disc itself disappeared.  The sod was untouched, as if he had never been there.

The elf looked at the humans for a moment.  He held Nazzrant’s eyes just long enough for the wizard to let his arrogance slip, revealing just a tiny bit of fear, now that the Master was gone.

“Well?” the thin man finally asked.

Sniffing with a ‘humph’, the elf started walking downhill

He did not care about the arrogance across the human’s pasty face.  The boy’s body would be numb by the time he realized his enemies were all gone.  He would drag himself out of his hiding place, then force himself to run to catch up to the other fleeing refugees.