My clash with Dakor might have ended badly for me but I was not so discouraged.

The sheer reason was rational. It took Dakor great effort, time and wealth to gift himself a strong army. Had they won the battle, the reward would have been too large. 

Time. It would most certainly take a while before another group of Kedrone soldiers picked up the chase. They would need that time to consider their enemy, his strength and their chances.
Whilst granted such time, Dakor's free raid would persist, which means more men, wealth and consequently, power.

If any of these had happened, I was duly versed with the fact that I could never come close then to Dakor. Breaking Dakors army and plans, fate had yet gifted me with hope for another chance with the man of fire, my arch enemy, Dakor.

  But the truth couldn't be shadowed. Dakor might have lost the Battle of White Valley, but Hamdire still belonged to him. Several strongholds in the town belonged to faction of his forces. Its was the Kedrone militaries responsibility to push them all out and free Hamdire of their plague.

   I was yet indecisive on my next faring. And since the Kedrone military cantonment at Hamdire were still determined to find and exterminate all of Dakors company, I felt it wise remaining at the camp.

  For days we prowled the lands, trolling out the rest of Dakors bandits who still remained. They had purposed to take all of Hamdire as a stronghold. But Captain Barkwood and the other officers heading our forces, were bent on purging the land of Dakors curse, before remaining.

  As it were even, hope seemed to be fading away from Dakor, for we were taking the better foot in the battle. After the Battle at White Valley, he was terribly failing to gather his men back in spirit and vigor. Day after day, they were set on the run - fleeing for dear life.
As much as we claimed more ground on the lands, agitation for more kept stabbing.
  When was I sure to see Dakor one on one again?

  "Captain Gryneed, moved out with some hundreds of men. His scouts tells of an enclave deep the wilderness. They would attack them from the front, and cut them from the rear, giving the bastard's no chance for escape." Airden's voice rang through our gathering. He wiped his mouth and beards of drips of ale, while he leaned in to proceed.

  "We are gaining this war. Soon we shall have just enough bandit heads as price before returning home." The middle aged man told, with a consoling smile.

   "But what about us?  What do we do now?" One of the men in the company voiced.

   "That's the fear now. Their is no telling when next we would move out this camp. My hand aches for gore. Alas, we can make no move until Captain Gryneed returns. Whatever their faith be, would affect our decisions. This I can tell with surety." Airden sighed before pouring another mouthful of ale.
   No one doubted Airdens words. Too many times had his news been proven true. And if it did okay out as he had told, this meant too much of bad news for me.
  How then could I meet Dakor?

  I kept silent and listened keenly to the heated discussion, as the ember churned strongly. But the next words of a man drew me even further hooked into the chat.

  "Whatever may be our fate, I pray I never see the madman Dakor." Another man mumbled. I shot gaze at him as soon as his words broke out. True dread hung on him.

  "Why is that mate?" Conte, another milliary mate asked. 

  "O that man is a fighter. I saw him fight at the Battle of White Valley. I have seen him fight few other times too...he fights like a demon."

  "If the tales are true, their is just a man who had ever defeated him in a duel - it was at the Vicious Game."

  "The tribesman Dorack Dun." Conte sighed. I gulped in shock. But beside my fear of being recognized, now that I was topic for discussion...I felt a warming touch on my ego. My tales still boomed well in Kedrone.

  "Such legends favored by the gods, throwing away purpose." Airden frowned. His words stabbed. If their was anything I lacked it was never purpose.

  "I only pray I never cross path with him in these battles." The one who had began the topic told again. Fright was still enveloping him.

  "I pray I see him myself." I muttered. They all shot surprised gazes at me.

  "Why? You have had dealings with the man." Conte faced me. I was silent first, then I spoke eventually when their interrogative gazes remained in-slacken.

  "Just an ambitious soldier seeking glory through a great kill."

  "Such suicidal ambition." Conte roared laughter.

  "Well we can dream and fantasize, its what idol men do after all. But I tell you its coming to a quick end now." Airden breathed.

  "How is that?" I asked.

  "Another Captain, I hear, marches our camp with his force. They are a days walk from here. I fear we may not need to wait for Captain Gryneed's host." Airden told with a glint of comfort.
  Of our company, it seemed only I and Airden who enjoyed this news the most.
  By good fortune we were bound to end this sequence if eating mad growing fat in this camp. I needed to fight. I needed gore. I needed revenge. If fate had graced me another opportunity, then the best I could do was wait.
  With a sigh, I faced back the churning ember, half-minded in the discussion. The fire, as it eat fuel stick, consumed that which burnt earnestly in my heart - tormenting. It would come to an end at last.
   
                              ***
   Our predictions came fruiting rather too soon. Before dusk, we received orders from the warrant officers, to rise and fall in line. Captain Barkwood had made resolve to march us out for an assault.
  The side talks of the soldiers, was that the Captain's scouts returned yesterday with tidings.

   "But our forces are not much. The new Captain hasn't come." Conte was worried.

  "The Captain plans on meeting the new forces at the field."Airden told.
  I was not certain of what was transpiring, and our officers even were determined to conceal the facts from us.

  We moved out by the blare of the conch horn. Several hundreds of infantry men followed after the few calvary soldiers.
  We were at a disadvantage at our current state. We lacked good number and horses. More so we were terribly running low on ammunition. Our dear hope was our ally forces, for which we marched to meet.

  It was no wisdom leading us out from our fortress vulnerable. But Captain Barkwood seemed to have a brilliant plan. We would cross Siros Vale, and regroup with our incoming allies, then adjourn for Dolfe mountain, where a great number of Dakor forces took refuge.

  The midday summer sun scorched bitterly upon clear skin surface. Our armours shone beautifully, by the suns reflection. Miles of trekking under cruel ambient temperature, left us weary. We kicked up dust, exhausted to lift gracefully our feet.
  Nature gifted us breeze. But this I considered torment too. The hot air pricked skin, carrying scent of dust and sweat.

  But procession into Siros Vale, sparked our hope. While the sun remained unrepentant, the trees were there to wane the bitter beam.
  But I was worried, our allies were still out of view. Several strange thoughts swam into my head, all of which weren't aiding the condition of being weary.

  Strange dropping of leaves as the times of autumn, left me considering. I raised my face up, but all I saw was clear stream of waving trees, and spilling sunlights. Perhaps autumn was slipping in after all.

  We held up the march. Our heavy boots digging into the dirt and pressing up dried twigs and leaves.
The trees were shaky - more leaves dropped repeatedly. The breeze definitely.

 Something whistled through the air ending with a dull thunk.

A symphonious sharp shriek of pain broke out of multiple grounds. I looked to the man beside me who had screamed. An arrow head bloomed brilliantly through his throat. Blood sprayed from the rupture in a red fountain as he fell backward.

More screams broke out telling their own fate. From the trees, the hidden silhouettes began descending down. It was then I affirmed my intuition.

    "Ambush!  Ambush!" I screamed.