Val followed Unta into the council chamber, a circular room carved within the very heartwood of the Oakspire''s massive trunk. The walls curved around them, living wood polished to a soft gleam and etched with the history of Yelden Valley in intricate relief. Lanterns hung from the high, arched ceiling, casting a warm glow over the two dozen men and women seated around a massive table of polished oakwood.


    The argument died as heads turned toward the newcomers. Val felt the weight of their scrutiny as he limped forward beside the High Captain, his torn and bloodied ranger uniform a stark contrast to the clean, formal attire of the council members.


    "High Captain Unta," declared a silver-haired woman seated at the head of the table, her back straight despite her advanced years. The High Elder of Oakspire regarded them with piercing eyes. "We did not summon you to this council."


    "Forgive the interruption, High Elder," Unta replied with a respectful bow. "But I bring news that cannot wait."


    Val stood at rigid attention despite the protests of his exhausted body. The warmth emanating from the Oakspire had eased some of his pain, but his wounds still throbbed with each beat of his heart. He scanned the room, noting the expressions of the council members; curiosity, annoyance, suspicion, and fear all mingled in varying degrees.


    Near the High Elder sat a man in the crisp uniform of the Oakspire Army, his weathered face marked by old scars and his posture that of a career soldier. High Captain Alayne, Val realized, commander of Oakspire''s military forces. Beside him was a stout woman wearing the insignia of the City Guard, her dark hair streaked with gray and her expression guarded.


    "What news could be so urgent that it warrants interrupting a war council?" demanded a corpulent man in the robes of a wealthy merchant.


    Unta gestured to Val. "This is Ranger Valtha Hearne of Company Two, sent out on patrol deep in the north valley. He brings news of Willow Creek. He has traveled directly from there to bring vital intelligence about the attacks."


    "Willow Creek?" Another council member frowned, a thin man with spectacles perched on his nose. "We have heard nothing from there."


    "That''s because they''re under siege," Val said, his voice rough from exhaustion and thirst. "Just like Stonebridge."


    A murmur swept through the chamber, faces turning toward him with renewed interest. The High Elder raised a hand, silencing the whispers.


    "Speak, Ranger," she commanded. "Tell us what you know."


    He described the sequence of events, the initial patrols finding evidence of undead movement, the investigation at Dead Peak Pass, the ambush that revealed the coordinated nature of the enemy, and finally the siege of Willow Creek itself.


    "We held them off, but at a cost," Val continued, feeling the eyes of every council member fixed upon him. "The village''s defenses are compromised. Supplies are limited. And more importantly, this attack appears to be part of a larger pattern."


    He looked directly at High Captain Alayne. "The timing of the attacks on Willow Creek and Stonebridge suggests a coordinated campaign. The undead are being directed with intelligence and purpose, targeting our settlements systematically."


    "By whom?" Alayne asked, his eyes narrowing. "Who commands these forces?"


    "We don''t know for certain," Val admitted. "But the evidence points to a powerful necromancer or similar entity operating from within the Deadlands. Someone with the ability to control vast numbers of undead and direct them with tactical precision."


    The council chamber erupted in a chorus of voices, some demanding more details, others expressing disbelief, still others calling for immediate action. The High Elder raised her hand again, restoring order to the chamber.


    "These are grave tidings," she said once the noise had subsided. "If true, they suggest a threat unlike any we have faced in generations."


    "If true?" A sharp-featured man in merchant''s clothing snorted derisively. "That''s the question, isn''t it? One ranger''s tale of organized undead armies led by some mysterious necromancer." He waved a dismissive hand. "Sounds like the kind of story designed to incite panic."


    Val felt a surge of anger cut through his exhaustion. "You think I rode through undead-infested territory, fighting for my life every step of the way, to bring you a fabricated story?"


    "I think," the merchant replied coolly, "that rangers have been known to exaggerate threats to justify their funding. And I think that in times of crisis, people see patterns where none exist."


    "Councilor Merric," Unta interjected, his voice tight with controlled anger, "Ranger Hearne is one of our most reliable officers. His account aligns with reports we''ve received from refugees fleeing Stonebridge."


    "Frightened civilians see monsters in every shadow," another council member scoffed, a woman in the elegant robes of the Merchants'' Guild. "And rangers see conspiracies in every ghoul sighting."


    Val could feel the council slipping away, their skepticism hardening into dismissal. He stepped forward, his patience fraying.


    "While you sit here in your comfortable chamber, debating whether to believe me, people are dying," he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Willow Creek stands because rangers and villagers are fighting and bleeding to hold back the dead. Stonebridge may already be lost. If you wait for absolute proof before acting, you may find the enemy at your gates."


    "You forget yourself, Ranger," the merchant councilor snapped. "You do not dictate policy to this council."


    "And you forget your duty," Val retorted, reckless now in his frustration. "You are charged with protecting all the people of Yelden Valley, not just those within Oakspire''s walls. Every hour you delay puts more lives at risk."


    The chamber fell silent, the council members staring at Val with expressions ranging from outrage to thoughtful consideration. He had crossed a line, he knew, challenging the council''s honor directly. But he couldn''t bring himself to regret it, not when so much depended on their decision.


    Unta placed a restraining hand on Val''s shoulder, a silent warning to step back from the precipice.


    "High Elder, honored council members," the High Captain said, his voice calm and measured, "I understand your caution. These claims are indeed extraordinary. But I have known Ranger Hearne for many years, and I vouch for his integrity and judgment. Moreover, his account is consistent with the pattern of attacks we have observed."


    He moved to the map that lay spread across one end of the council table, indicating the marked locations with a steady finger.


    "Willow Creek and Stonebridge, attacked within days of each other. Both villages strategically valuable, Willow Creek for its position near the forest tracks, Stonebridge for its control of the river crossing. If this is indeed a coordinated campaign, the next targets would logically be Clearwater and Emberfell, followed by Oakspire itself."


    High Captain Alayne had risen during Unta''s explanation, studying the map with the practiced eye of a veteran commander. "You believe this is an invasion," he said, not a question but a statement.


    "I do," Unta confirmed. "The first phase of a larger offensive designed to isolate and eventually overwhelm Oakspire."


    The chamber remained silent as the implications sank in. The High Elder exchanged a look with Alayne, some unspoken communication passing between them.


    "What would you suggest, High Captain Unta?" she asked finally.


    Unta straightened, his bearing that of a man who had anticipated this question and prepared his answer carefully.


    "I request permission to dispatch ranger companies to relieve Willow Creek immediately," he said. "We need to evacuate the civilians and establish a defensive line to prevent further incursion into the valley."


    "You would divide our forces?" the thin woman from the Scholar''s Guild objected. "When Oakspire itself may soon be under threat?"


    "We cannot abandon our outlying settlements," Unta countered. "Not only for moral reasons, but for practical ones as well. Each village that falls adds to the enemy''s forces and resources while diminishing our own. And if we retreat behind our walls, we cede control of the valley''s food production and supply routes."


    High Captain Alayne nodded slowly, his scarred face thoughtful. "There''s wisdom in what you say, Unta." He turned to address the council. "A forward defense offers several advantages. It allows us to gather intelligence, disrupt the enemy''s advance, and secure resources for the city."


    "At the cost of exposing our forces to greater risk," objected the Guard Captain.


    "All warfare involves risk, Captain Morden," Alayne replied. "The question is which risks are worth taking. In my judgment, the benefits of a forward defense outweigh the dangers, provided the operation is properly executed."


    He turned back to Unta. "How many companies would you need for this mission?"


    "Two ranger companies for the evacuation and reconnaissance," Unta replied promptly. "Supported by an army company to provide security during the withdrawal."


    Alayne considered for a moment, then nodded decisively. "You have my authorization, High Captain. The 4th Company stands ready to support your operation."


    "This is madness," protested the merchant councilor. "Committing valuable forces on the word of a single ranger—"


    "On the evidence before us," Alayne corrected firmly. "Including reports from Stonebridge refugees, our own reconnaissance, and now Ranger Hearne''s firsthand account. The pattern is clear to those willing to see it."


    The High Elder studied the faces around the table, then nodded slowly. "I believe we have heard enough to justify precautionary action. High Captain Unta, you have the council''s approval to proceed with your plan. High Captain Alayne, please continue outlining the broader military response."


    Val felt a surge of relief wash through him. They had listened. Help would come to Willow Creek. It might not be enough, and it might come too late for some, but it was more than he had dared hope for when he had first entered the chamber.


    Unta squeezed his shoulder in silent acknowledgment of their partial victory, then gestured toward seats along the wall. "We should hear the rest," he murmured. "This concerns all of us."


    Val nodded and followed the High Captain to the indicated seats, grateful to take the weight off his aching legs. The warmth from the Oakspire continued to flow through him, soothing his wounds and easing the worst of his exhaustion, but he knew it was a temporary respite at best. Soon enough, he would need proper medical attention and rest.


    High Captain Alayne moved to stand before the map table, his posture straight and his voice carrying clearly through the chamber.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Based on the intelligence we now possess, I propose the following course of action," he began. "First, immediate evacuation of all outlying villages in the northern valley. Ranger companies paired with army units will coordinate the withdrawal of civilians to Oakspire. Initially, we focus on Clearwater and Emberfell, as they appear to be the next likely targets, followed by the smaller settlements."


    He traced a path on the map with his finger. "Second, establishment of a defensive line along the Whitewater River. The river provides a natural barrier that we can strengthen with strategically placed forces. This gives us time to complete the evacuations and prepare for a potential assault on Oakspire itself."


    "And the southern valley?" asked a councilor.


    "We maintain observation posts but hold our main forces in reserve," Alayne replied. "If the pattern holds, the enemy will continue its push from the north and east. But we must be prepared for attacks from multiple directions."


    The discussion continued, with Alayne outlining contingency plans, supply requirements, and coordination between the various forces. Val listened with half an ear, his mind drifting between the council chamber and Willow Creek. Had the village held in his absence? Were Jorin, Elara, and the others still alive? He pushed the questions away, focusing instead on the fact that help was coming. That had to be enough for now.


    "One final point," Alayne said, his voice drawing Val''s attention back to the present. "All evacuation forces are to prioritize the retrieval of food stores, livestock, and essential supplies. We must prepare for the possibility of a long siege. If the enemy controls the valley, we may be in for a hard winter."


    The chamber fell silent as the implications of his words sank in. This was no longer a discussion about a limited incursion from the Deadlands. They were planning for an extended conflict that might isolate Oakspire for months.


    "Let us hope it does not come to that," the High Elder said into the silence. "But we will prepare as if it will. The evacuation plans will commence immediately. All guild representatives are to coordinate with their members to ensure cooperation with the military authorities."


    She rose from her seat, her slight frame somehow commanding despite her age. "This council stands adjourned. May the Oakspire watch over us all in the days to come."


    The council members rose, breaking into smaller groups as they filed out of the chamber. Some cast curious or wary glances toward Val as they passed, but none approached him directly. The weight of the decisions just made hung heavy in the air, tempering even the most contentious council members'' desire for further argument.


    Unta helped Val to his feet, steadying him when he swayed slightly. "You did well," the High Captain said quietly. "They listened, which is more than I expected."


    "Will it be enough?" Val asked, the question that had been gnawing at him since the council''s decision.


    "That remains to be seen," Unta replied honestly. "But it''s a start. Come, we need to prepare for your return to Willow Creek."


    They left the council chamber, emerging into the soft evening light that filtered through the Oakspire''s canopy. The Heartwood district was quieter now, with fewer people moving among the moss-covered paths and living architecture. Those who were present moved with purpose, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the situation facing the city.


    "The evacuation orders will go out tonight," Unta said as they walked. "The ranger companies will depart at first light. With favorable conditions, they should reach Willow Creek by midday tomorrow."


    Val nodded, calculating the timeline in his head. "If the village still holds."


    "It will," Unta said firmly. "Jorin is one of our best captains, and from what you''ve told me, he has the situation as well in hand as could be expected."


    They made their way back through the Inner City toward the ranger headquarters, the streets now less crowded as citizens returned to their homes for the evening. The news of the council''s decision hadn''t yet spread through the city, but there was a tension in the air that suggested people sensed the gravity of the situation even without specific details.


    "Before we discuss your return to Willow Creek," Unta said as they approached the headquarters, "you need to visit the healers. Those wounds require attention, and you need proper rest before you journey back."


    Val started to protest, but Unta raised a hand to forestall his objections. "That''s an order, Ranger Hearne. You''ve done your duty by bringing this information to us. Now you need to ensure you''re in fighting condition when you return."


    Val recognized the wisdom in the High Captain''s words, however reluctant he was to delay his return to Willow Creek. "Yes, sir," he conceded.


    The ranger headquarters had quieted somewhat since their departure, the frantic activity of the afternoon giving way to more focused preparation. Rangers moved with purpose, gathering equipment, studying maps, and receiving briefings from their squad leaders. The atmosphere was tense but disciplined, the rangers falling back on their training as they prepared for the difficult tasks ahead.


    Unta led Val to the infirmary on the ground floor, a well-lit room with several beds along one wall and cabinets of medical supplies along the other. A middle-aged woman in a healer''s smock looked up from her inventory as they entered.


    "High Captain," she acknowledged, then her eyes fell on Val.


    "Healer Tessa," Unta said with a nod. "Ranger Hearne has just returned from Willow Creek with vital intelligence. He''s sustained multiple injuries that require attention before he returns to his post."


    Tessa approached, her experienced eyes already assessing Val''s condition. "Sit," she ordered, pointing to one of the examination tables. "And remove that filthy shirt so I can see what I''m dealing with."


    Val complied, wincing as he peeled the stained fabric away from his wounds. The largest was a deep gash on his left side where a ghoul had caught him during the battle at Willow Creek. Elara had treated it as best she could, but the journey had reopened the wound and signs of infection were evident in the reddened flesh around it.


    Tessa clicked her tongue disapprovingly as she examined the injury. "This needs proper cleaning and stitching," she declared. "And a poultice to draw out the infection." She moved on to the other, smaller wounds scattered across his torso and arms. "These aren''t as serious, but they''ll need attention too. And when was the last time you slept properly?"


    "Before the attacks began," Val admitted. "Four days ago, perhaps."


    "Of course," Tessa muttered, shaking her head. "Rangers. Always pushing until they collapse." She turned to Unta. "I''ll need an hour with him, at least. And then he should rest for a full day before attempting any strenuous activity."


    "A full day isn''t possible," Unta replied. "He needs to depart with the relief force at dawn."


    Tessa frowned. "Then he needs at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. And a healing draught to speed his recovery."


    "See to it," Unta instructed. "I''ll make the necessary arrangements for his departure." He turned to Val. "Once you''re patched up, get a meal from the kitchens and then straight to sleep. That''s an order, Ranger."


    "Yes, sir," Val replied, too exhausted to argue even if he had wanted to.


    Unta nodded once, then departed, leaving Val in Tessa''s capable but unsympathetic hands. The healer set to work immediately, cleaning his wounds with a solution that stung fiercely, then applying salves and bandages with practiced efficiency.


    "You''re lucky," she commented as she stitched the gash on his side. "Another day without proper treatment and this would have festered beyond my ability to help. As it is, you''ll have a new scar to add to your collection."


    Val grimaced as the needle pierced his skin. "One more won''t make much difference."


    "That attitude is why I have so many repeat customers," Tessa said dryly. "Try to value your skin a bit more highly, Ranger. It''s the only one you''ve got."


    She worked in silence for a while, her hands gentle despite her brusque manner. When she had finished with the last of his wounds, she moved to one of the cabinets and returned with a small vial of amber liquid.


    "Healing tincture," she explained, handing it to him. "Drink it now. It will accelerate your body''s natural healing process and help with the pain. And take this one with you." She passed him a second vial, this one filled with a dark purple liquid. "For sleep. Take it after you''ve eaten, and it will ensure you get the rest you need."


    Val tucked the sleep potion into his pocket and uncorked the healing draught, downing it in one swallow. The liquid burned its way down his throat, spreading warmth through his chest and limbs. Almost immediately, he felt some of the pain from his wounds begin to recede, replaced by a tingling sensation that suggested accelerated healing.


    "Thank you," he said, meaning it despite his impatience to return to his duties.


    Val slipped on the clean shirt Tessa had provided, the soft fabric a welcome change from his blood-stiffened uniform. He left the infirmary, making his way through the headquarters to the kitchens on the lower level.


    The smell of hot food hit him as soon as he entered, making his stomach growl in response. He hadn''t realized how hungry he was until that moment, the events of the day pushing such basic needs to the back of his mind. Now, however, his body reminded him forcefully that he had been running on reserves for far too long.


    The kitchens were busy with preparation for the next day''s deployments, but the cooks had laid out a hearty meal for rangers coming off duty or preparing for the morning''s missions. Val filled a plate with roasted meat, root vegetables, and thick slices of dark bread, then found a seat at one of the long tables.


    Several other rangers were already eating, their conversations subdued but laced with the gallows humor typical of those preparing for dangerous assignments. A few nodded to Val in recognition as he sat, but most were too absorbed in their own preparations to pay him much attention.


    He ate methodically, focusing on the simple pleasure of hot food and the strength it would provide for the trials ahead. As he ate, he allowed his mind to drift slightly, reviewing the events of the day and the decisions that had been made. The council had agreed to send help to Willow Creek, which was the primary goal of his journey. Yet he couldn''t shake the feeling that they still didn''t fully grasp the magnitude of the threat facing the valley.


    "You''re the ranger from Willow Creek, aren''t you?" The question came from a young woman who had sat down across from him, her ranger uniform crisp and her expression curious. "The one who reported to the council?"


    Val nodded, swallowing a mouthful of bread. "Valtha Hearne, Company Two."


    "Mara Thorne, Company Five," she replied. "We''re one of the units heading out at dawn. Thought I should hear about what we''re facing directly from the source."


    Several other rangers had paused in their conversations, listening with interest. Val recognized the look in their eyes, the mixture of caution and determination that came before a difficult mission. They deserved to know what they were riding into.


    He described the attacks on Willow Creek in more detail than he had given the council, focusing on the tactical aspects that would be most relevant to rangers preparing for combat. He explained the ambushes, the flanking maneuvers, the way the ghouls had breached the village walls, and the necromantic ogre that had nearly turned the tide of the battle.


    "The most important thing to understand," he concluded, "is that someone is directing these attacks with intelligence. This isn''t a random surge from the Deadlands. It''s a campaign, with strategic objectives and coordinated forces."


    The rangers listening had grown somber as he spoke, the reality of what they would face sinking in. But he saw no fear in their eyes, only a hardening of resolve and a sharpening of focus. These were professionals who had trained for years to defend Oakspire and the valley. They would not flinch from their duty, however daunting it might be.


    "What about the village itself?" Mara asked. "How well are they holding up?"


    "When I left, the defenses were compromised but still functional," Val replied. "Captain Jorin had organized the remaining rangers and militia into an effective force. But they were low on supplies and had taken casualties." He didn''t mention Mira by name, the wound of her loss still too fresh. "If the attacks have continued in my absence, their situation will be dire."


    "Then we''ll need to move fast," another ranger said, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down one side of his face. "Hit hard, secure the civilians, and withdraw before the enemy can regroup."


    Val nodded, grateful for their quick understanding of the situation. "That''s the plan, as I understand it. The army''s 4th Company will provide security while you evacuate the villagers."


    "The 4th is solid," the scarred ranger commented. "Fought alongside them during that trouble in the southern valley two years back. They know their business."


    The conversation continued, with the rangers asking detailed questions about the terrain, the village defenses, and the specific types of undead they had encountered. Val answered as best he could, sharing everything he had observed during the battles at Willow Creek.


    As they talked, he felt some of the weight lifting from his shoulders. These rangers were prepared, competent, and determined. They would reach Willow Creek with clear eyes and ready weapons. It wasn''t a guarantee of success, but it was the best hope the village had.


    Eventually, the conversation wound down as rangers departed to continue their preparations or to get what rest they could before the dawn deployment. Val finished his meal, the combination of hot food and the healing draught having restored some of his strength. But exhaustion still pulled at him, his body demanding the rest it had been denied for too long.


    He made his way to the barracks, a large room filled with rows of simple beds. Many were already occupied by sleeping rangers, while others sat on their bunks cleaning weapons or checking equipment. He found an empty bed near the wall, far enough from the door to avoid the worst of the disturbance as rangers came and went.


    Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drew the vial of sleep potion from his pocket. The dark purple liquid caught the lamplight, swirling with tiny motes that seemed to dance within its depths. He uncorked it and drank, the taste surprisingly pleasant, a mixture of herbs with an undertone of honey and something deeper, more mysterious.


    Almost immediately, a wave of profound relaxation swept through him. His eyelids grew heavy, his thoughts slowing like honey poured in winter. He barely managed to remove his boots before collapsing onto the bed, the world around him fading into a comfortable darkness.


    His last conscious thought was of Elara and her face as she had bid him farewell that morning, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. "Come back to us," she had whispered, her hand lingering on his arm. "Come back to me."


    He had promised that he would. And now, with help on the way, he might be able to keep that promise.


    Sleep claimed him fully then, deep and dreamless, his exhausted body finally surrendering to the rest it so desperately needed. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new dangers. But for now, in this moment of respite, there was only the blessed oblivion of sleep, healing his body and preparing him for the trials ahead.


    Outside the barracks, Oakspire continued its preparations for war. Orders were dispatched, supplies gathered, defenses strengthened. The city that had known peace for generations was awakening to the reality of a threat long forgotten. And as the night deepened, the massive tree at its center stood silent witness to it all, its ancient presence a reminder of all that was at stake in the days ahead.