barely a grumble from the soldiers as they changed positions, despite the hardships Daken had already put them through. They knew the end was in sight, and one final victory under the gaze of King Emin and his troops, that’d be a good note to go out on.
An hour later and the smile was gone from Dassai’s face. Even Daken looked tense as the two men and a scout lay on their bellies on the hill’s southern side. Each had a green scarf tied around his neck, the nearest to uniform they possessed.
‘How close do you want them?’ Dassai asked through the steel grille of his visor.
‘Close,’ Daken growled, refusing to be any more specific. Less than a mile away three legions were heading straight for them, following the easiest path as they led the way for the rest of the army. They hadn’t sent scouts any further ahead — Daken had weaned them off that particular habit several weeks back by leaving a dozen of his best archers in his wake at every obstacle. Now the Menin only marched en masse now, despite the slower pace.
‘That looks close to me, General,’ the scout said cautiously. He knew Daken wasn’t a stickler for protocol, but his bouts of good humour and informality never fully masked the fact that he was a white-eye and dangerous to predict.
‘Me too,’ Daken declared, his voice husky at the prospect of the violence to come. ‘Far enough to think, close enough not to think so hard.’
They wriggled back until they were out of sight, then leapt to their feet and joined the remaining legion. There were more than a thousand men, and Daken could see they were ready: unafraid, and as keen to shed Menin blood as he. The white-eye stood in his stirrups, raised his axe, and gave the signal, leading them down to the lower edges of the hill, where the slope was shallow enough to keep their formation, but still gave them some protection.
When they caught sight of the enemy, the troops gave an unprompted roar of defiance — one that was repeated as Daken raised his blood-streaked axe above his head and added his own voice.
The troops stared at each other, no more than three hundred yards apart, and close enough that Daken could make out the colours on their flags. One was white, the other two black: a Litse and two Menin light cavalry legions. The main bulk of the army was further back, almost a mile behind the advance guard.
‘Looks like you were right, General,’ Dassai commented, ‘the main body has slowed down: our decoy legions have won us some space to work with.’
‘Aye, fucking genius I am,’ Daken muttered, watching the nearer legions intently.
The enemy clattered to a ragged halt while their commander decided what to do. Their lines were tight; no doubt to keep them ordered and under control, but it wouldn’t help them with what Daken had planned.
‘Get us close enough, then give ’em a volley, let’s see if we can help ’em make up their minds,’ he told the marshal, who yelled the command.
The legion advanced slowly, arrows notched, bolts loaded and ready to fire. To the enemy it must have appeared they were still trying to induce a pursuit, moving cautiously enough to flee at a moment’s notice. They stood their ground and watched the Narkang cavalry approach, content to wait for them to get too close.
Dassai looked askance at Daken; the white-eye was sitting hunched in his saddle, fingers tight around the stained leather grip of his axe. As he gave the order to fire he saw Daken taking deep breaths, and his face slowly broke out into a manic grin. The arrows struck and he saw several men fall from their horses, and a few of the beasts themselves reared and kicked out in pain.
‘One more volley,’ Daken growled through bared teeth. He slipped the half-helm onto his head and watched as the horses continued walking forward all the while, closing the ground slowly and steadily.
Dassai gave the order, wondering idly whether his general would remember to give the order, or if he would just charge out all alone — that was perfectly possible, after all. The second volley killed more, and the reply from the Litse horsemen fell short, the angle of the slope and the wind against them.
‘Move, you lazy fuckers,’ someone commented from Dassai’s left, ‘maybe you’ll get close enough to hit something smaller than a hill.’ As Daken