"You are wrong," said Kargen. "It is quite within a hunter's right to question authority, but in this case, I shall not answer. Laruhk, Durgash, and the others are trying something new, something no Orc has ever before attempted, at least as far as we know."
"Now you have me intrigued. How am I to concentrate on the task at hand?"
Kargen laughed. "I tell you this only to give you hope, my friend, not to distract you."
"Where is Shaluhk?"
"Behind us," said Kargen, "with the other hunters. As our hunters are wounded, they shall fall back to her position, allowing her to heal them. They, in turn, will take the place of the injured, ensuring our strength is maintained."
"It would be easier if we had more bows," suggested Kragor.
"So it would," agreed Kargen, "but we had scant time to prepare for battle, and our warbows are difficult to make. In time, the entire tribe will be so equipped, but for now, we must make do with what few we have. Now remember, do not use them until the enemy is close. We must make every arrow count."
To the west, Mortag shifted his feet trying to ease the strain on his back. He moved his left arm, the withered appendage in a sling, a constant reminder of his difficult birthing. He was old by Orc standards, and yet his mastery of fire was well developed. He cast his eyes to the trees above, noting their condition. It had been a dry summer, and the winter snow had yet to arrive. The trees in this part of the woods were pine, littering the ground with their needles, leaving the forest floor bare of undergrowth. It meant the Orcs could use their bows with ease, but the same could be said of the enemy.
He glanced to his rear, where Laghul was waiting with a small group of attendants. The shamaness would heal the wounded, as was the custom, while beside her stood Kirak, perched at the edge of the woods, his eyes focused on the enemy.
The Humans had begun their advance, a long line of footmen interspersed with archers. Behind them came the foot troops of the Church, easy to spot in their light-grey tabards. The edge of the woods was a slightly higher elevation, giving Mortag a good view of the enemy as they approached. He marvelled at the Human fascination for forming their men into tight groups. This was certainly not the Orcish way, and yet who was he to complain when it gave his hunters such easy targets?
Mortag waited until the rear rank of Humans entered the stream, then gave the command to attack.
Natalia watched as a cloud of arrows appeared to the west, marking the start of hostilities. She thought back to her training at the Volstrum. Strategy and tactics had always been of interest to her. But now, at this moment, she wished she'd paid even more attention to the little details.
To her front came the enemy foot soldiers, their metal armour gleaming under the banner of the duke. They carried a variety of weapons, ranging from hammers to axes and even swords as they advanced against the unarmoured Therengians, confident in their victory and spoiling for a fight.
The footmen were flanked by crossbowmen, an excellent choice when confronting armoured opponents, but their slow rate of fire would prove advantageous to her side, of that she was sure. So far, the enemy had done precisely what she had expected, but she wasn't fooling herself; she knew plans seldom survived initial contact. As they began crossing the stream, she could finally make out the duke's knights.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered where Sir Raynald was but quickly put such thoughts from her mind. There was a battle to be won, and he was an enemy combatant after all.
In front of her, the Therengians stirred, checking shields and weapons as they finally prepared for the impending assault. She saw Athgar look her way and smile, bringing a warmth to her heart. The thought of losing him closed in on her mind, and she struggled to fight down the panic.
A hand rested on her shoulder. "He will survive," said Voruhn. "Of that, you must have no doubt."
"How can you be so sure?" Natalia asked.
"I can not believe fate has brought him here to die. Think of all you have been through already."
She looked at the Orc, seeing the determination in her eyes. "I suppose you're right."
"Now," continued Voruhn, "you must put such thoughts from your mind. You have a battle to manage."
Shouting echoed across the field, drawing Natalia's gaze westward. The Orcs of the Black Axe had begun their skirmishing, catching their foes by surprise. The Humans, after their initial shock, soon recovered, and their archers began sending volley after volley into the woods while their footmen drew closer. Soon they were well into the trees themselves, making it impossible for their own archers to assist.
Natalia smiled. This was an unexpected twist, for it appeared the duke had not foreseen this complication. From her angle, she could see little, save for the enemy pushing farther into the treeline, but the sounds of battle certainly told the story of an intense struggle. The enemy archers soon disappeared into the trees, following their compatriots, while the temple footmen brought up the rear.
She forced herself to look eastward to where a similar force was advancing. The commander on that side, however, had wisely kept his archers in the open, where they might best use the power of their volleys. The footmen were in amongst the trees, but Kargen and the Orcs of the Red Hand were farther south, waiting for the best moment to strike.
To her front, the duke's men pushed closer, picking up their pace now that the enemy was almost within their grasp.
"Archers may begin," she called out. Her orders were echoed down the line, and then the onslaught of arrows began. The first volley fell
