entire front lines howled like savages, and as they did, Crushaw rode back to the river and dismounted, taking his place to guard that flank.
***
Molgheon lay on the clay slate of the bluff and watched the orcs advance. From her experiences with the Resistance, she had seen many battalions of the Great Empire approach battlefields, and while those situations had been different, she was still unimpressed with these soldiers. Where the humans had been focused on the coming fight, the orcs seemed more like sightseers on a picnic. When they reached the pits and trenches, she could hear many of them laughing at and mocking the obstacles. Enjoy it while you can, she thought.
From her hiding spot, she had a good view of both forces, and the difference in sizes was astonishing. The freed slaves looked small and vulnerable compared to the mass of orcs, but Molgheon wasn’t worried. She trusted Red’s plan, and so far, he had anticipated their approach as well as could be imagined. From here on out, the battle would come down to how well they executed the strategy. If she and the archers could use their arrows well and terrorize the middle of the force, the front lines would have no reprieve from fighting and would become almost the same size force as the freed slaves. Then, when the rear lines tried to retreat, if Leinjar and the ambush party could hold the orcs well enough to prevent a major reorganization, the freed slaves could succeed.
Besides Molgheon, each archer had ten arrows to fire. Most were elves and as accurate a shot as she was. Their goal was to wound at least seven orcs each. When they ran out of arrows they were to move to the front line and supplant any exhausted troops. As for Molgheon, she had nearly a hundred arrows and would focus her fire on the orc leadership. Even if she didn’t kill them all, her hope was to create chaos in the command structure, thus weakening the orc army’s reactions to the battle.
For several minutes, the orcs marched up the rise, inching closer and closer. Molgheon could not give her position away too soon, for if she did, the orcs would retreat before Leinjar got behind them. She would have to wait until the orcs moved far enough up the field that the ambush party could completely block the lower end. So she and the other archers lay still beneath their brush camouflage and watched the orcs march.
Early spring in the foothills was usually warm and breezy, but on this day, the air was fairly cool with very little wind. The first leaf buds had appeared on the dogwoods and poplars, and insects buzzed and fluttered from plant to plant, searching for food and spreading pollen as had happened and would continue for countless millennia. As winter gave way, the smell of new life was sweet and thick. Molgheon had always preferred fall and winter, since so much of her life had revolved around war and death, but on this day, she soaked in the seasonal rebirth and relished it.
The Great Empire had conquered and divided the Ghaldeon kingdom well before she had been born, so as a child, she had always aspired to join the War of Resistance and expel the enemy from her home. For as long as she could remember, she had trained for battle and was an expert with practically every weapon used in warfare. The bow was her favorite, however, because her eyesight was keen and her hands were steady. Even at forty-three, she was as deadly a shot as any, but she knew her skills were slowly eroding. Her joints stayed sore and stiff most of the time, and her hands had lost some of their strength. She didn’t want to grow old and feeble, especially not alone with no real family or friends to care for her, but since she was hardly into middle-age, those worries could wait.
The orcs reached the front line and stopped about ten yards away from the freed slaves. Soldiers on each side called insults to the others, and some spat at their enemies. Many orcs beat their chest plates with the wooden shafts of their
***
Molgheon lay on the clay slate of the bluff and watched the orcs advance. From her experiences with the Resistance, she had seen many battalions of the Great Empire approach battlefields, and while those situations had been different, she was still unimpressed with these soldiers. Where the humans had been focused on the coming fight, the orcs seemed more like sightseers on a picnic. When they reached the pits and trenches, she could hear many of them laughing at and mocking the obstacles. Enjoy it while you can, she thought.
From her hiding spot, she had a good view of both forces, and the difference in sizes was astonishing. The freed slaves looked small and vulnerable compared to the mass of orcs, but Molgheon wasn’t worried. She trusted Red’s plan, and so far, he had anticipated their approach as well as could be imagined. From here on out, the battle would come down to how well they executed the strategy. If she and the archers could use their arrows well and terrorize the middle of the force, the front lines would have no reprieve from fighting and would become almost the same size force as the freed slaves. Then, when the rear lines tried to retreat, if Leinjar and the ambush party could hold the orcs well enough to prevent a major reorganization, the freed slaves could succeed.
Besides Molgheon, each archer had ten arrows to fire. Most were elves and as accurate a shot as she was. Their goal was to wound at least seven orcs each. When they ran out of arrows they were to move to the front line and supplant any exhausted troops. As for Molgheon, she had nearly a hundred arrows and would focus her fire on the orc leadership. Even if she didn’t kill them all, her hope was to create chaos in the command structure, thus weakening the orc army’s reactions to the battle.
For several minutes, the orcs marched up the rise, inching closer and closer. Molgheon could not give her position away too soon, for if she did, the orcs would retreat before Leinjar got behind them. She would have to wait until the orcs moved far enough up the field that the ambush party could completely block the lower end. So she and the other archers lay still beneath their brush camouflage and watched the orcs march.
Early spring in the foothills was usually warm and breezy, but on this day, the air was fairly cool with very little wind. The first leaf buds had appeared on the dogwoods and poplars, and insects buzzed and fluttered from plant to plant, searching for food and spreading pollen as had happened and would continue for countless millennia. As winter gave way, the smell of new life was sweet and thick. Molgheon had always preferred fall and winter, since so much of her life had revolved around war and death, but on this day, she soaked in the seasonal rebirth and relished it.
The Great Empire had conquered and divided the Ghaldeon kingdom well before she had been born, so as a child, she had always aspired to join the War of Resistance and expel the enemy from her home. For as long as she could remember, she had trained for battle and was an expert with practically every weapon used in warfare. The bow was her favorite, however, because her eyesight was keen and her hands were steady. Even at forty-three, she was as deadly a shot as any, but she knew her skills were slowly eroding. Her joints stayed sore and stiff most of the time, and her hands had lost some of their strength. She didn’t want to grow old and feeble, especially not alone with no real family or friends to care for her, but since she was hardly into middle-age, those worries could wait.
The orcs reached the front line and stopped about ten yards away from the freed slaves. Soldiers on each side called insults to the others, and some spat at their enemies. Many orcs beat their chest plates with the wooden shafts of their
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