here. They have not approached us since. They seem to be keeping their distance, watching us. They are not in sufficient numbers to attack us yet, but may I suggest we...”
“Move?” interrupted the King. “Yes my old friend, give the orders, right now! Double up on the horses, put the slowest of our nber in the wagons, we must move as fast as we can. Where there are Dzorag, my brother and Sawdon will not be far behind!”
Everyone in the rebel camp began rushing around frantically preparing for an immediate departure and the whole army was moving again within minutes. Some of the less essential items were deliberately left behind as per instructions to lighten their loads. They raced as fast as they could to the Ilan River, where they all rested briefly as each of them waited for their turn to cross the narrow, wooden bridge. Once again, the delay in crossing the river seriously worried the King. He was fully expecting the enemy to attack and he had lookouts posted on all sides to warn of any approaching forces.
But once more, Artrex was astonished and relieved to learn that there was still no sign of Vantrax or his army. No one could understand it. Least of all, King Artrex.
‘What are you doing, brother?’ he asked himself. ‘We are at your mercy. We are tired and in no condition to fight, with our backs to the river. This is the opportunity you have been waiting for. You could destroy us now with ease. So where are you???’
* * *
On the morning of the 17th August, King Vantrax was rudely awoken by the sound of a sword clinking against armour. It was incessant, and it was coming from right outside his tent. He tried his best to ignore it at first, but it wouldn’t stop, and it was now really getting on his nerves. It was barely light outside and the King rose slowly from his makeshift bed, his fury at being disturbed in such a fashion boiling up gradually inside his aching body until finally, he could take no more. He grabbed the flap of his tent and swept it aside, peering outside to identify the culprit responsible for the infernal racket.
Before him, already fully dressed in his armour and ready to go to war, was the mighty and impressive sight of Sawdon. He was pacing furiously up and down like a madman possessed. Vantrax was just about to scold the Thargw warrior for his actions, but Sawdon caught sight of his King and the excited Gerada managed to speak first.
“Kraar... Morning, my King. You are awake, good! It is time to move. First light you said. The enemy has a good start on us so we must hurry! My Thargws are ready to move now, as are the soldiers of your Personal Guard.” he said, deliberately stopping at that point and unusually failing to deliver a full report.
Vantrax stared at him angrily for a second or two, the intended scolding choking in his throat whilst he was deciding how best to respond to his warrior’s eagerness.
“Raarr! First light to you, Sawdon, obviously means something different than it does to the rest of us! Well, I am up now. I suppose you are right. I will prepare to move.” he replied, turning slightly to re-enter his tent. He stopped suddenly, as he remembered what Sawdon had said, intrigued at the inadequate nature of his Gerada’s report. It was completely out of character and he turned back to face the Thargw.
“You only mentioned a small part of my army, Sawdon. Why is that? What of the rest?”
Sawdon looked back at his King, he was clearly disappointed by something. After a very short pause, he spoke freely, but there was anger and frustration burning in his eyes.
“This army is ill-disciplined. It is no surprise to me when you see who commands it. Strymos struts around like a prancing filak! But he achieves nothing. He does not get his hands dirty at all. Though he is no doubt quick enough to condemn those who do. His soldiers have no respect for him. They do not fear him, and they behave as they wish!” he shouted defiantly. “I apologise my King for speaking so, but the truth must be told! The best of your soldiers are ready to move, as I have said. I myself will lead them, if that is your wish. But the Dzorag fools are mostly drunk, though ‘Kalvanaar’s Maids’