Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

He didn't wait to thank the white-eye but went for the next Litse himself, slashing the man's shoulder and tipping him from the saddle. He felt a spear bite the wooden shield held close to his body and slammed it against his ribs, but he managed to deflect the weapon and dislodge it from its owner's grip by battering the shaft with his sabre. Before the man could grab his own sword, Dassai had made up the ground and cut across his exposed face, throwing him back in a spray of blood.

As the injured man reeled away it seemed to Dassai that was the breaking point. Like a herd of cattle, the Litse suddenly turned and bolted, abandoning their weapons and fleeing from the savage assault. A great cheer went up as the Litse broke, but the Narkang fighters wasted no time in exploiting the gap and turned to support those who'd already pushed through and hit the exposed centre legion. Seeing the first legion run, the Menin cavalry wilted under the assault and tried to scatter in all directions.

Seeing the confusion up ahead Daken roared, 'Dismount!' at the top of his voice.

As the marshal repeated the order he saw more than a hundred had done so already, anticipating the order. He too slipped from his saddle and followed Daken as the white-eye ran towards the Menin cavalry, knowing from experience it would be impossible to order their lines in time. A man on horseback normally had the advantage, but cavalry in disarray couldn't properly fight off a concerted assault.

Panicked shouts came from the enemy line as the Narkang soldiers streamed towards them. They were only a hundred yards off, tightly packed and boxed in by the fleeing Litse. In the time it had taken Daken's men to charge and butcher a significant number of Litse, the Menin cavalry's attempt to turn and attack had failed miserably, a disordered mess made worse by some of the Litse actually running between squadrons of Menin in panic. Now many soldiers were milling about in confusion while dozens of voices yelled conflicting orders, warnings and curses.

One Menin squadron took the initiative and lowered spears, but as they began to advance, their officers called them back and they faltered in confusion.

Daken ignored everything but his target, an officer in the Menin front rank. A pair of horsemen saw him closing in and galloped to stop him, but before they could run him down, a ghostly figure darted forward in a blaze of smoky blue light. The horses shied away as Litania clawed at their eyes and left long bloody trails torn into their heads. One panicked entirely and ran across the path of other Menin trying to meet the onrush.

The other rider, shouting in alarm, wrenched his horse away from the Aspect's clawed fingers and wheeled it in a circle as he tried to get the beast back under control, but Daken reached the man before the circle was complete and hammered his axe into the man's back. The Menin arched in pain and fell, but Daken had already moved on, blood-splattered and roaring his defiance. Again the enemy shrank back as more of Daken's legion arrived, lunging up with their spears and pulling men from the saddle. Without a cohesive line to defend, the closest Menin tried to turn away, obstructing their comrades who, not realising the danger, continued to press forward.

Dassai found Daken again as he was carving a bloody circle through the air, swinging two-handed through the panicked Menin. Dassai had his sabre in one hand and snatched up a discarded spear in the other, using them to carve a path through the chaos. He got as close to Daken as he dared, knowing the Menin would be fighting alone, vulnerable to the Narkang men acting in unison.

Ahead of him Daken screamed, and foamed bloodily at the mouth where he'd bitten his own tongue. He gave no thought to tactics as he threw himself at one Menin after the next, determined to massacre his way through the enemy ranks. The young marshal was forced to keep back or be cut down himself as he followed in Daken's wake, running through those men who wheeled away from the dervish hacking madly in all directions.

The Menin didn't stay to fight. Within minutes they were sounding the retreat, trying to batter a path through their comrades. The Narkang had discovered over the last few weeks the Menin light cavalry hated close-quarters fighting, and without space to move, their height advantage meant nothing. Men lay screaming all around, many with the spears that had driven them from their saddles still lodged in their bellies.

Just as he began to see daylight through the thinning crowd of Menin, Dassai slipped on a bloody tuft of grass, and by the time he recovered his balance, the bulk of the Menin were throwing their weapons away and fleeing after their reluctant Litse allies. A few Narkang soldiers pursued, but they were on foot and soon gave up the chase, panting and bellowing Daken's name as they ran back to their colleagues.

'Back to the horses!' Dassai shouted at the top of his voice. Fatigue meant the first few words were lost on the bulk of their men, but once again, they were expecting the order. The rest of the Menin would not be far away, and if they didn't escape now they'd be the ones on the receiving end of a charge.

'Run, you fuckers!' Daken roared, staring after the fleeing cavalry, 'run and tell your lord I'll do the same ta him!'

'General!' Dassai yelled.

Daken whirled around, and for a moment his eyes were filled with blind fury, then it subsided and the white-eye gave him a bloody grin, sweat and blood running from his bald head. There was still a stub of arrow protruding from his left arm and a shallow cut running along his cheek.

'Dassai,' he laughed, raising his axe, 'first blood to us!'

'It's who gets the last I'm worried about,' Dassai said, only half-joking as he watched the advancing Menin.

'Oh, piss on you, that was the best fun I'll have all year,' the general said, slapping Dassai on the shoulder as he passed. Daken paused and leaned close to Dassai's ear. 'Now shift yourself, ya bastard!' he roared at the top of his voice, and with that, the white-eye set off towards the abandoned horses, laughing mightily all the way.

Dassai spared one last look at the rest of the Menin Army, looming large on the moor ahead.

That's the last we'll run, he promised them silently. Next time, it's to the death.

Doranei watched the grainy light of dawn creep over Tairen Moor, his hand never leaving his sword. The Menin were out there, a dark smear in the distance – both nebulous and threatening. He couldn't help wondering if the fears of the many had come true and they truly were an unstoppable force led by an invincible warrior.

He tried to find the fear inside him, but it wouldn't come. The King's Man looked down at the discarded jug of wine at his feet. The contents spilled red, soaking into the earth and wood of the rampart. The wine had tasted like ashes in his mouth – like the pyres of Scree, or the shattered streets of Byora where Sebe had died. He didn't crave alcohol, not this morning. The feeling thrumming through his bones was something else, an angry impatience.

'This is another man's war,' he said dully, nudging the jug with his toe. 'Let them come, and quickly.'

'It's our war now,' Veil reminded Doranei as he drank from a waterskin. 'It weren't the Farlan brought this plague upon the kingdom; it were coming sure enough anyway.'

Doranei didn't reply. He didn't want to speak what was on his mind, to hand the burden on to his friend, but it was there at the back of his mind. He was tired of this all, tired of the years of struggle and seeing precious little victory from it.

Maybe all that drinking's finally paid off, he thought sourly, it's finally managed to numb what's inside.

The Menin had made camp a few miles away, not close enough to contain the Narkang Army, but still a threat. General Daken had arrived mid-afternoon with the news of one final engagement: one little piece of hurt delivered for the thousands murdered in their advance. His scouts had confirmed the scryers' intelligence: their baggage train was small and their supplies were dwindling.