The Last Archer: A Green Ember Story

by S D Smith

“Split up and get to the fort!” Captain Frye called, making a sideways leap into a thicket. Nate and Junder broke the other way, running in a wild panic. Jo saw that Junder had lost his bow and that Nate had no space to get a shot off. If he turned, the wolves would be on him. Jo dove into the thicket behind Captain Frye and rolled through a thorny tangle of brush before finding his feet again in a desperate terrified rush. He ran and ran, twisting through the forest, madly zigzagging back toward the fort. He couldn’t find Captain Frye, but he ran on and on until his breath came in short, painful gasps.

  When he could run full out no more, he risked a backward glance.

  Nothing.

  Jo had been fortunate. The wolves had not found him, and he was, for now, out of immediate danger. He considered remaining where he was, trying to stay safe. But his orders were to return to the fort, so he moved on, doing his best to locate anything recognizable to guide him back that way.

  He ran as quietly as he could, ears attentive for any noise. The rain had stopped and the clouds were breaking up. A full moon appeared, and the forest suddenly became much clearer. Jo began to run faster as he sensed he was getting nearer the fort. Seeing a familiar marker in a rotting tree, he broke through an opening and into a small clearing. What he saw there filled him with terror.

  A wolf, jaws open, on top of Junder.

  Junder wasn’t moving, and the wolf was poised to destroy him. A cloud passed in front of the moon, dimming what light there had been. Jo unslung his bow and reached for his quiver.

  One arrow.

  Was Junder alive? The wolf bore down on the young rabbit just as another wolf appeared and Captain Frye came bursting into the clearing. The scene was chaotic, and Jo felt his heart racing. He raised the bow and nocked his only arrow. He aimed. That wolf ’s so close to Junder! Jo was afraid he’d hit his ally. How could he live with himself if he killed a fellow soldier instead of saving him? He aimed, trying to ignore the other wolf in the clearing, the presence of Captain Frye, and the endless list of horrible things that could happen if he failed.

  He waited. Breath in. Breath out. And waited.

  “Shoot!” Captain Frye called, rushing the other wolf in Jo’s periphery.

  Jo took a breath. Another breath. The second wolf slammed into him and sent him sprawling to the mud as everything went black.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jo woke up in Cloud Mountain, his head aching. He was in the hospital, and an auburn doe with white spots was leaning over him.

  “What’s happening?”

  “You’re fine,” the red doe said. “You had a rough time, and you’re resting. But you’re okay.”

  “What happened to me?” Jo asked. His memories were muddled.

  “You were knocked unconscious in the forest last night,” the doe said. “You were on patrol.”

  Jo’s memory of the night before came back in startling scenes, his first glimpse of combat lit up by lightning in the rain and ending in the moment he failed to fire when the wolf was on top of Junder. He began to squirm, his breathing coming faster and more shallow. His heart was racing.

  “Calm down, soldier,” the doe said, taking his hand and placing her other hand calmly on his chest. “You need to breathe deeply right now.”

  “Junder! I didn’t shoot,” Jo almost shouted.

  “Listen to me!” the doe said firmly, tightening her grip on Jo’s hand. “You listen to me, soldier. Right now I’m your commander, and I’m telling you to take a deep breath.”

  The authority in her tone got his attention, and he turned to look in her eyes. “I didn’t shoot,” he whispered breathlessly. “I was afraid I’d—”

  “Take a deep breath, now!” she insisted. Jo obeyed, breathing in deeply. “Another?” she asked, her eyes locked on Jo’s and demanding his attention. “That’s better,” she said as he took more deep breaths in turn. “Keep that up, please. Now, what’s your name?”

  “I’m Jo,” he answered, his heartbeat slowing a bit as he listened and followed her instructions. “Jo Shanks.”

  “I’m Emma, Jo. It’s nice to meet you. Now,” Emma went on, “you’re in the hospital and you’re going to be fine. You got a knock from the attack, but you’re okay. We don’t have to rush anything, soldier. You’re not missing anything.”

  “Then why are there so few here?” Jo asked, looking around the sparsely occupied room.

  “Good question,” Emma said, grimacing. “So, earlier—a few seconds ago, in fact—when I said you aren’t missing anything? That wasn’t accurate. You’re missing a huge thing.”

  “Oh. So about you saying that I’m okay. Is that true?”

  “Mostly,” she said, taking her hand off his chest.

  “What are we missing?” he asked.

  “It’s a big meeting of… uh, well, everyone,” Emma said, letting go of Jo’s hand and digging into her satchel. “They’re going to try to fix all the heated division, the angry infighting, and the irreconcilable discord with—if I’m not mistaken—a concert and some good speeches.” She rolled her eyes.

  “That ought to do it,” he said, smiling.

  “That’s what I think too,” Emma replied with exaggerated agreement. “I mean, if a concert can’t heal longstanding political and interpersonal strife, then what can?”

  “And if you add in the speeches,” Jo said.

  “Yes, I had almost forgotten about the speeches,” Emma replied, filling a bottle with a foul-smelling ointment. “With the speeches added to the music, I’d say we should expect Morbin’s surrender by morning.”

  “At the latest,” Jo agreed.

  Emma couldn’t help it. She laughed, spilling some of the ointment on her sleeve. “Brilliant. Now my sleeve will smell like dungnettle all day.”

  “At least you’ll be able to wake up unconscious rabbits with only a wave of your wrist,” Jo said, wiping at his nose.

  “True,” she replied, smiling down on him as she returned the bottle to her satchel. “Now, how are you feeling?” She put her hand over his heart again.

  “A little better.”

  “Keep breathing deeply, and try to relax,” Emma said.

  He nodded, getting in several deep breaths before speaking again. “My friends. Junder and Nate Flynn. What happened?”

  “There were a few casualties in the fight out on the perimeter last night,” she said. “Junder… he was hurt pretty badly.”

  “He lived?” Jo gasped. He had been so afraid that his indecision had cost Junder his life. “How is he?”

  “It will be a while before he can walk,” she said, looking down sadly, “and he’ll never shoot a bow again.”

  “It’s not your fault,” came the words of a buck nearby. Nate Flynn walked up from behind Jo’s bed. “You weren’t sure of the shot, Jo, so you didn’t take it. That was wise.”

  “I froze,” Jo said, looking down, then away. Anywhere but at Nate or Emma.

  “So Junder lost an arm,” Nate said. “He’s got another one. He’ll probably still be better with a sword than you are.”

  “I’m sorry, Nate,” Jo said, looking up at him with shining eyes. “I should have shot.”

  “The shot was taken, an imperfect shot at that, and the wolf ran off. We got you and Junder back here, and all’s well. Far better than it could have been.”

  “Who took the shot?” Jo asked. He already knew.

  “That’s not important. What’s important is getting you healthy again.”

  “I’m fine,” Jo said, “according to this fine doctor, Emma, who has a reputation for honesty and for smelling good.”

  Emma smirked. “I’m not a doctor, and he can’t go anywhere yet,” she said. “Doctor Zeiger has to release him. And he still needs care.”

  “I thought you said I was fine!”

  “I want you to talk to a friend of mine, and I’ll take you to meet her tomorrow. Her name is Maggie O’Sage.”

  “I’ve heard about her,” Jo said, frowning. “Isn’t she the crazy old
lady who sits on a porch staring out into the mist?”

  “Yes,” Emma said. “I want you to talk to her.”

  “I need to go back on duty,” Jo said, throwing off the covers and swinging his long legs out of the bed. “The war’s coming.”

  “You’ll follow orders, Jo,” Nate said, stepping over and forcing him back onto the bed. “Right now, you’re under care. And if you have to see Magnut O’Grave, or Doctor Ziglar, or whoever they want you to see, you’ll do it. That’s an order.”

  Jo frowned.

  “Thank you, Officer … Bucksteady, or whatever your name is,” Emma said, nodding to Nate. “Jo,” she said, turning back to her patient. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t go anywhere,” she said, winking at him before walking away, “or you’ll get in army trouble from that buck there who tells you what to do.”

  “When I get out of this hospital, I’m going to make sure I never have to come back to one ever again,” Jo grumbled.

  “Good luck with that during the war,” Nate said. “I’ll come and check on you tomorrow, Jo. Keep your head up, buck.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jo said, saluting as Nate walked off. Then he finished under his breath, “Anything you say, Bucksteady.”

  He sat in lonely silence, frustrated at not being able to get back to the Bracers even though he felt fine. Fine, other than the headache. And it was an intense one. He rolled over in his bed and closed his eyes. He tried to relax, but the image of a wolf in the woods and himself frozen, unable to take a shot, haunted his waking dreams. He tried to distract himself by thinking of his encounter with Emma. She was a lovely doe, and what a wit! Was it possible she really didn’t know who Nate Flynn was? Or was she just being funny?

  What would it take to be so illustrious that you were known all over Natalia? He opened his eyes and looked for Emma, but she wasn’t there. He closed them again and saw a vision of the wolf in the woods, looking up at him with bloody jaws. He willed the image away, and it was replaced in his mind by one of his father. Old, withered, and bitter. “You must make a name for yourself, son,” he had said more than once. “You must strive and strive and strive until honor surrounds you and glory descends on you like a crown. They will give you nothing. You must take it, no matter the cost.”

  But here he was, in a hospital with no real injuries, having missed his first true shot at mild glory. As rabbits filed back into the hospital, he pulled his blanket over his head and wept. He kept on weeping till he slept.

  Jo was awakened not long after by screams. Urgent cries echoed around the now frantic hospital.

  “Wolf attack!” shouted the terrified rabbits. “Wolves, inside Cloud Mountain!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jo hurled off his blanket and sprang out of bed. He searched beneath the bed and found his sword, quiver, and bow. He slung on his bow and quiver, then buckled on his sword belt while he ran. He hadn’t had time to think. He was only reacting.

  Where should he go? He could run to the plateau to join up with his company, but that was too far away, and he hoped they wouldn’t even be there now. He didn’t even know where the hospital was—where he was. Screams punctuated the sounds of confusion and terror that surrounded him. He ran into the hall and saw a nurse bending over a slain soldier; her shocked face featured wide, unblinking eyes. The wolves had been here, just outside the hospital. More urgent cries came to his ears, with desperate screams just ahead. He didn’t know where he was, but he could hear, and he ran toward the screaming.

  Jo ran through a doorway with a shout, fear becoming fuel for his wild charge. He passed bucks and does on the ground, killed or wounded by the rampaging pack. He ran through a long corridor, then took several turns that left him standing once more in front of what he thought of as the hospital gate. Emma was there, trying to help make order of the frightening scene. She was shouting commands and tending the wounded nearby. Warning that more wounded would be coming soon, she ordered some dazed does to prep the surgery. A horn sounded loud and shrill, and Jo ran from the hospital entrance, terrified but eager to find the battle. Just as he stepped into the hallway, five wolves filled it and charged toward him. He drew his sword and stepped back into the hospital gate, crouching in a defensive position.

  Jo knew he couldn’t hold the gate against five wolves, but he was determined to die trying. He glanced back at Emma and said, “They’re coming.” He saw her eyes go wide, then he turned back to face the fury of the assault. The wolves came then and rushed by the gate in a blur, bypassing the hospital to head back the way they had come. Jo was startled and, for a moment, couldn’t speak.

  He turned to see Emma at his side. She had taken up a cast-down sword and was standing guard with him. “They’re retreating,” she said, gasping.

  “Where are they headed?” Jo asked, peeking back out the large opening.

  “You can’t leave us here,” she said. “Help me defend this place. They’ll be bringing so many wounded here. I need help.”

  Jo was going to agree, but just then a series of shrieks resounded in the hallway. “I have to go!” he said.

  She nodded. “Go!”

  Jo left the room with a leap and slid sideways on the stone floor before finding his feet and rushing ahead. More horrible screams filled the hallway, and he sped on, following the sound. He came upon one dreadful scene after another, but he kept charging on with a fierce determination to stop the creatures responsible. He had to find those wolves and take the fight to them. Fear had given way to anger, and he ran on with a desperate desire to reach the enemy.

  Soon he was joined by other bucks from every citadel. Beside him ran a soldier from Vandalia, the blue and gold banner bright on his chest. They ran on together, though Jo let the other lead, since he clearly knew the way better.

  “This way!” the Vandalia soldier shouted, and they broke through the door to the Savory Den, sending chairs flying as they crashed through on the trail of the escaping pack. Jo saw how devastating this first line of the attack had been. The wolves had done great damage here as they entered the secret opening to Cloud Mountain.

  “Medics!” Gort was shouting. “Send for medics!” A buck peeled off from Jo’s ragtag band and hurried back to the hospital. The rest charged on.

  At last they came to the foggy mouth of the cave and dashed through the trickling spillover and out into a chaotic scene of blood and smoke and desperate cries.

  Jo spotted Captain Frye, fifty yards away, battling with a wolf. Smoke obscured the fight, but Frye was not alone. Jo sprinted ahead while the wolf sent a spear at Captain Frye’s middle. Frye dodged and brought his sword down in a massive overhead slice. The wolf deftly sidestepped the strike and lunged at Frye with its jaws wide, snapping into the captain’s arm. Jo closed the distance, driving his sword into the wolf. Two other bucks, Owen and Nate, joined him in killing the wolf. But Captain Frye’s arm had been mauled cruelly. The old captain got to his feet slowly, ignoring the awful wound as he cursed. Lieutenant Drand found him, and they conferred quickly. Nate, Jo, and Owen checked on the nearby wounded and gathered arrows from the battle, slipping them into their quivers.

  “The Longtreaders are behind this,” Owen growled. “I have no doubt!”

  “They arrive, then key leaders of every citadel gather in one place, and that place is immediately attacked,” Nate said. “It was them all right.”

  Owen spat. “Curse the Longtreaders.”

  Jo was furious, at the Longtreaders, who had so plainly betrayed them, and at the wolves who had accomplished such a devastating strike. He wanted to act. “What now, sir?” he asked, interrupting Frye’s conference with Drand. Drand nodded to Frye and hurried back into the cave.

  “We pursue!” Captain Frye said, pointing. “We’ll head southeast over the mountainside, then veer west toward Decker’s Landing and their garrison.”

  “Captain, your arm?” Nate asked, frowning at the wound.

  “Of course,” Frye answered, his eyes thinning to slits. “I’ll
only slow you down. And I need to rally more fighters here. Go!”

  The three archers rushed into the misty forest and plunged down the mountain. There were terrible sounds behind and before them. They raced on, leaping wide ditches and ducking under bending limbs. Jo tried to stay focused and track the path that Nate set. In a moment, they came to the fort they had been in last night, charging on beneath it. Jo tried to force out the memory of the failure that haunted him: Junder lying prone beneath the frenzied face of that bloody wolf. And just as that image came into his mind, they crashed into a clearing and saw a band of rabbits being overwhelmed by wolves.

  “Archers, unleash!” Nate cried, sending a series of furious arrow volleys at the enemy. Wolves fell by his well-aimed arrows as Jo and Owen let loose from their own bows. The put-upon bucks were soon recovering, driving back the wolves. The remaining wolves fled into the cover of the far side of the clearing and raced away. Nate sped after them, Jo and Owen on his heels. But when they were halfway across the clearing, arrows aimed from the direction of the fleeing wolves flew right at them. Owen went down, an arrow piercing his leg. Nate and Jo stood over him, returning fire as other rabbits came and dragged Owen away. The situation was reversing quickly, and the wolves came tearing back into the open once more, reinforced by more of their frantic pack.

  “Pull back!” Nate called, trying to rally the remaining bucks, many of whom were archers, back to his position. “Rally on me!”

  Jo kept shooting, even as arrows grazed his face and arms and the furious pack charged ahead.

  Brave bucks met the charge, and the scene descended into a chaotic struggle between the overmatched rabbits and the brutal wolf assault. Nate finally dropped his bow, seven unspent arrows in his quiver, and drew his sword to deflect the death-dealing strike of an enemy pike. The pike split, and the frenzied wolf hit Nate hard with a broken half. Nate crumpled to the ground. Jo swung his blade at the wolf, but it dodged away and struck out at a Blackstone soldier.

  Jo was desperate to help Nate, who wasn’t moving, but he felt a presence behind him. He turned in time to see a leaping wolf snapping at his head. Jo jerked away just enough and saw the slavering jaws close on his shoulder, sending a piercing pain through his body. As Jo went down, the wolf ’s short blade raked across his side, tearing a new wound that added to his agony. Jo fell, and the wolf moved on to strike the next nearest rabbit. More pursuing rabbits poured into the clearing, and Jo’s attacker was laid low by a perfectly-aimed arrow. He turned to see who his savior had been but saw the Harbone archer fall just at that moment.