Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

'The end is not yet in sight,' he shouted, 'but the reckoning has come. We have beaten all in our path, and when Narkang falls the spine of the West will be broken!

'The Chetse we defeated, and they honoured us by joining our cause!

'The Farlan we defeated, and they ran for home!'

Whistles and catcalls came from all around, then laughter. Styrax waited for the noise to abate, then went on, 'The Farlan ran, and they will run again – but first we take down this self-anointed – a man too afraid to let his rabble of an army past their ditches to face us like men.

'Show them how men fight, brothers; call the names of our fallen and show them the price of cowardice. We go to war!'

His last words were barely heard as the soldiers yelled in frenzied abandon. General Gaur signalled the drummers to beat to orders, but even the heavy thump of the huge wardrums was swallowed by the clamour. Only when the great curling horns of the Chetse legions sounded and the Menin drums repeated the command did it die down and order resume.

Styrax turned to Gaur and the beastman bowed awkwardly. General Vrill appeared behind him.

'The legions have their orders?' Styrax asked.

'They have, my Lord,' Vrill called, also bowing. The duke was ready for battle, the ribbons fixed to his white armour trembling in the dull morning light. 'My infantry are moving out as I speak.'

'Good. I'll be counting on you to stir up a little confusion and panic.'

'While you assault a fixed position,' Vrill said pointedly. 'While we both assault fixed positions, with our forces nicely divided.'

Styrax gave the small white-eye a sharp look and sheathed Kobra again. 'Vrill, you may lecture me about dwindling supplies and lines of communication, or you may remind me of Erialave's tenets of the field. You may not, however, do both.'

Vrill bowed, lower this time. 'Apologies, my Lord. I remain yours to command. My concerns are for your safety, not my own.'

'We've overswept his land and killed half his people – still think King Emin is going to conjure up a surprise we can't handle?' Styrax said with a slightly forced smile.

He knew Vrill was right about much, but they simply couldn't wait to devise something intricate, nor could they evade the Narkang force – and he did not want to. Supplies were running dangerously low, and they needed a decisive victory, or they would begin to starve within the week. He'd given the order that there was to be no guard left with the baggage. One way or another, this day would be decisive. Styrax was certain his armies would show their worth.

'I think a surprise doesn't need to be your equal if it truly is a surprise – he possesses a Crystal Skull, according to Major Amber and – '

'And I have several!' Styrax growled, 'to say nothing of the fact none of his mages are my equal, nor Lord Larim's nor, most likely, half of Larim's acolytes.'

Vrill opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again with a snap. The decision was made and the most likely result of arguing further would be a swift death. 'As you command, my Lord,' he said in a tight, controlled voice. 'Do you have final orders for me before I go to my command?'

Styrax, his hands balled into fists, made himself calm down. After a moment, he said, 'Take your time. They'll not come to you, so once you've cleared away the skirmishers you can negotiate the advance ditches slowly. Keep your formation and keep close to the tree-line. If they have cavalry hidden there they'll run long before you reach them, for fear of being pinned down.'

Vrill looked up at the sky. It was still early and there was a blanket of thin cloud overhead. 'A good thing they want to keep your wyvern on the ground,' he commented. 'There's a lot of marching to do today; hot sun's the last thing we'll need.'

Styrax nodded. 'With any luck they'll keep the clouds there for us so I won't have to.' He offered a hand to his general who looked startled for a moment before remembering himself and taking it. 'Good hunting – if you break their line or draw them out, don't hesitate. Keep a mage close and send me a message if they're weakening; I'll get their attention while you win the battle.'

Vrill couldn't help but grin at the prospect, a flush of animation crossing his usually composed face. Lord Styrax was not a man who shared victory easily, but this he meant. Duke Vrill had the right flank; he had ten legions to march to the tree-line and in through the narrow channel King Emin had left on the edge of the forest: two thousand cavalry to protect his flank and eight thousand infantry to throw against the enemy line.

Once past the defensive ditches of the Narkang Army it would become brutal, bloody sword-work. With a breach, the quality of the Menin heavy infantry and the savagery of the Chetse elite axemen would come into their own.

'Good luck to you too, my Lord,' Vrill said with meaning.

The bulk of the army, double the number at Vrill's command, would be directly assaulting the fort at the heart of the Narkang defences, marching straight towards the enemy on ground of the enemy's choosing. A further six legions protected their left flank and rear, where the Narkang cavalry would be trying to make their greater numbers count.

They would be assailed on two sides, barely able to fight back until they breached the fort's walls: it would be the greatest test the Menin Army had ever faced. Their enemy was ruthlessly inventive and had had weeks to prepare for battle; that made it a horrific prospect – but Lord Styrax himself would be leading them, and that was enough for the army.

Styrax watched Vrill go, then raised an armour-clad arm and struck it against General Gaur's. The two had no need for parting words. Gaur had devised the plan with his lord, and he knew his part well enough; everything else was understood. He left without a word.

Styrax looked out towards the enemy lines, visualising what he'd scouted from wyvernback the previous evening: two great defensive ditches, each running for more than half a mile, reached out from the castle called Moorview in a diamond shape, with a wooden fort at the nearest point and Moorview at its rear. The castle was set in an indent of the forest, although there was open ground on its right flank. His scouts reported smaller, staggered defences set beyond each of the great ditches.

The Narkang cavalry would be concentrated on the open ground on Styrax's left, which gave them space to manoeuvre. The bulk of King Emin's army would be behind the ditches, probably concentrated at either end, and he guessed their orders would be simple enough: stay put, and resist assault. Doing anything so complicated as advancing would leave inexperienced troops vulnerable – and they were inexperienced; six months before they'd all been farmers and ploughboys! – so it was unlikely the Menin would be able to tempt them out. Still, Vrill had a few hundred captives to execute in plain view, just in case he could torture them into forgetting their orders.

'Sound the advance,' Styrax called, 'and let's show them what they're all afraid of.'

The Bloodsworn around him turned to march to their positions – on foot, fighting as his bodyguard – but two lingered, staring straight at Styrax, barely ten yards away. He felt a prickle of magic tremble through the air and was drawing his sword before he'd had time to think.

As the man on the left ran forward, the Bloodsworn armour started to disintegrate, pieces cascading from its body as it moved with impossible speed. It had covered the ground between them in a heartbeat, bringing up a shimmering sword, ready to strike. Styrax threw himself back, but his attacker followed, blindingly fast, his sword distorting the air as they parried and broke, and moved again, and again.

Styrax blocked with desperation, the weapons moving too fast for a normal human to clearly see. His armour turned a glancing blow in a shower of sparks and Styrax went briefly onto the attack with a volley of blows that would have felled any normal man – but each was met and blocked, and the ring of their blades came so fast it sounded like shattering glass.