The Desolate Throne

XVI. Battle Plans

The army marched.

It was not a short road. Though Botha pleaded that they move at a double time, the sooner to arrive in Ethilir, Holland had persuaded the leaders to refuse. Even Botha understood why, though he still wasn't pleased. They couldn't afford to weaken their forces before the battle. It was a brutal truth, but they would not be able to save his kingdom. Even Losena might fall, if they were not fortunate. If it did and Saraqael found the shard, however, it would be the end of their attempt to turn back the Imperium. The dust of the road covered every soldier as they marched for miles and miles. It was not a swift progress, as the whole army was not mounted. Holland made certain they had scouts in every direction, hunting for danger. They were fortunate, though. The Imperium had not yet pushed into Leus, even with their Immortals, a sign that gave her a little bit of hope.

When they reached the border, she felt an even greater relief. Not only were Talin's forces waiting, but they had brought the orcs with them. Murdak was the same imposing figure that she remembered, wearing his demon's hide armor. His whole body was crisscrossed with scars. The line of his square, jutting jaw was uneven, as someone had struck him in the face with a mace somewhere along the line, crushing the bone. The tusk on that side was gone, but a healer had done a game job of piecing the jawbone itself back together. Imperfect and lumpy, potentially because pieces of the mace were still embedded in his face, but certainly better than an open wound. Claw marks scored the top of his head, creating furrows in his short hair.

Khagra slid off Zajar's back and greeted her brother with a tight hug. "You lot took your sweet time," Murdak grunted. "We've been sitting on our hands for two weeks now. I was about to start picking fights with these Talinese pretty boys." The moment he released his sister, he yanked Holland into a crushing bear hug too. "Good to see you, Holland."

Seva looked amused. "I did not know thou art so well-loved by the orcs, Holland," she said when Murdak released her lover.

"Hah!" Murdak slapped Holland on the back hard enough to almost stagger her. He didn't even seem terribly concerned with whether or not he might have hurt her despite her wince. He'd seen what Holland could shrug off, after all. "This one brought us the biggest fight in history. Hard not to love her for it. Vladan, you're looking well."

"We're almost to battle," Vladan said, his grin showing his many sharp, white teeth. "What's not to like?"

Holland laughed and shook her head slightly. "You two are going to be a heap of trouble. Is Thadash here?"

"Yes, with the shamans," Murdak said. "It's time for a council of war, I think. Losena is less than a week away even moving at an army's pace. From what we heard from the last messenger, it's under siege. I don't know how long they can hold out, but likely not long."

The penitent sobered quickly at the news. "What kind of engines are they using to assault the walls?" she asked as they followed Murdak towards where the others were waiting. The High King and the ambassadors were in conference already, though it sounded like voices were beginning to be raised.

"Trebuchets. Big ones. The Eth have good archers and a lot of stones. That keeps the battering rams at a distance," Murdak said. He ran a hand over his scarred head, ruffling his short hair. "Hell of a thing, Holland. It's a big army. Bigger than I've ever heard of. It's gonna be a real fight when the Princes take the field."

If she didn't know better, she would have thought that Murdak was worried.

Lieren and their dwarven representative, Daag, were waiting outside the tent, neither of them particularly interested in being a part of the bickering.