He waited, watching them as they finally began their advance. They wore heavy armour, much like full Temple Knights, but the uneven ground kept them at a slow pace. They struggled to keep their lines straight.
Athgar drew his axe and raised it high, a signal that things were about to begin. All along the line, men tightened the grip on their shields. On the flanks, the Orcs readied axes.
The enemy drew closer until Athgar could make out the differences in each one's armour. It was a frightening sight as the knight's metal armour made them look as if they were some strange conjuration from the Underworld. He had fought Temple Knights before but that had been from behind the palisaded walls of Ord-Kurgad. Here, the stakes were much higher, for there were no walls to seek refuge behind.
He glanced at the ground seeking his markers. Before forming the line, he had paced off the range of his magic. Now the enemy was passing his carefully placed stones, marking the point of no return.
Athgar brought the axe down, signalling the battle to commence. On the flank, Gahruhl began casting, and then a small sliver of grey raced across to sink into the dirt. The ground rumbled as small spikes of rock burst upward, each no more than the length of a forearm. The effect on the enemy was immediate, causing them to falter.
As orders were called out trying to straighten their line, Athgar sent forth a streak of fire, striking the centre of the enemy formation. The plate armour of the knights protected them, but their grey tabards, in which they took so much pride, burst into flames. The initiates, not as hardened to magic as they were to regular combat, began to waver.
Another spell flew from Gahruhl's hands, and then the ground opened up, revealing a small trench before the enemy. The front rank panicked, halting far too quickly for those behind to understand what was happening. Men fell forward, mostly uninjured, but exposing the second rank rather unexpectedly.
On Athgar's left, Urughar's archers let loose with their volley. The arrows did little actual damage, but the effect on their morale was marked. Athgar called on his inner spark once more, and a wall of fire leaped up before the enemy. They backed up in fear as officers struggled to regain control over their charges.
"Now!" ordered Athgar. His men about-faced, placing their backs to the enemy, and started running. This was the most dangerous part of the battle, for their withdrawal could quickly turn into a rout.
They raced back across the field to the safety of the trees. The Orcs, who were fleeter of foot, had already formed back up at the treeline and were standing ready, covering the Therengians as they made their withdrawal. Athgar halted by Gahruhl, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"It has worked," said the Orc. "The enemy has stalled for now. No doubt they will send for help, then the entire army will pursue. I hope Nat-Alia knows what she is doing."
"So do I," said Athgar. "So do I."
Opening Moves
Autumn 1104 SR
Athgar looked north, watching for the approach of the enemy. The Therengian line stretched to his left and right, a solid mass of men and women willing to sacrifice their lives to protect their families. The hill they stood on overlooked a flat plain, flanked on either side by dense woods. Three hundred and fifty of his spearmen formed the front rank while his archers, meagre as they were, were farther up the hill. They would use their advantage to loose volleys over their comrades' heads as the enemy approached. Most of his warriors had little in the way of protection, save for their shields. A small group was blessed with chain shirts, and these he kept as a reserve, able to reinforce the line when needed.
He glanced farther up the hill to where Natalia stood surveying the area. She would be commanding the battle, standing beneath the stone gate the Orcs had spoken of. Around her were Zahruhl and the Stone Crushers, ready to wield the magic of the earth, taking full advantage of the powers of the strange stones. Of the other tribes, he saw no sign but knew they were waiting on either side of the field, their hunters ready to harass the enemy as they approached.
The early morning mist was just burning off, revealing the small stream that meandered across the plain. The sight somehow reminded him of home, and he was suddenly struck by the memory of his father teaching him how to fish. His recollections were soon cut short by the sight of a lone rider appearing out of the mist. The horseman halted just shy of the water and stood in his saddle straining to make out the Therengian line. Whoever it was didn't wait long before turning around and riding north. It appeared the enemy had finally arrived.
Father General Hargild watched Duke Heinrich's approach with a smile. "We have them," he called out.
"At last," called back the duke. "Are they close?"
"Just to the south, in fact. They've finally decided to make a stand."
"Any idea of numbers?"
"About five hundred," replied the father general. "I'm surprised they chose to fight."
"Perhaps they have no choice. Their village may be nearby."
"If it is, we shall find it soon enough. In the meantime, we shall destroy this ragtag army of theirs once and for all."
"What is our plan?" asked the duke. "Shall we rush them in one large mass?"
"Tempting though it is, I'm inclined to be more cautious. They may have more warriors in the woods. We'll split your forces up. I want your lighter troops on either side, and we'll use them to flush out the woods. Concurrent with that, your more experienced men
