Two hours before dawn Niall stood at ease a pace in front of his Patrol as the rest of the militia took their places. The Lieutenant and the militia regiment’s other instructors stood in front of them.

The Sergeant and Corporals were dressed in chain mail hauberks clinched at the waist with a wide leather sword belt, but they carried the same spear, shield and short swords the militia had. Corporal Tate caught Niall’s eye and acknowledge him with the barest upturn in the corner of her lips.

By contrast Lieutenant Bligh wore a chain mail suit was reinforced on the forearms and chest by long strips of metal. She had a longsword strapped to her waist and a winged steel helmet tucked under her arm. As opposed to the tower shields the rest of them carried, she had a smaller shield strapped to her arm.

Her stance recalled Niall to the first day of militia training. Unlike that first day, the militia troop moved into line swiftly and without the need for the Sergeant and Corporals to intervene. Within moments they were all lined up in their patrols.

She stepped forward and addressed them. “3rd Militia Regiment. Your Patrol leaders will have briefed you on our mission. Let me just add one thing. You have trained hard and well and today will be your first and, I very much hope, your last test. If we are called to fight, know this. You are ready. Whatever comes, trust in your training and your comrades, and you will prevail.” She paused and looked over them then nodded. “Sergeant. Move us out.”

The Sergeant Strang turned to face them. “Right. From here on out, it’s silence until the battle starts. Orders will be passed down the line, not called.” Niall stood with the others and waited. The light of moons gave some visibility. but only to allow him to discern that there were a large number of people around him.

After around fifteen minutes a torch was waved in a wide arc some distance away and the army started to march. Despite the moonslight Niall could not see more than a few meters around him. Here and there he could see the glow from the occasional bobbing torches that flickered like fireflies.

The dark seemed to swallow all the noise and, as they marched, Niall could only occasionally hear the neigh of a horse or the jingle of armour. Every so often a scout company would appear from, or disappear into, the gloam that surrounded them. On one occasion a single Ranger ghosted by the Militia company as she passed Niall saw the grime and blood on her armour and the lines of weariness on her face. Wherever she had been, the battle had already been joined.

Niall gave up trying to work out how long they had been marching, instead he focussed keeping to the marching rhythm and ensuring he did not trip over the Militia in front of him. Eventually, the whispered order was passed back that they should put out their torches.

They continued to march. Slower now, but still a steady eating up of the miles until a halt was called. The word was sent back for them to sit down and eat and drink something but otherwise to maintain silence

“Pobble?” Niall said in his head as he took a swig from his waterskin.

“Yes?” The Fae shard replied immediately

“Nothing. Just wanted to check you were there.”

“Oh, Pobble would not miss this. It has been several centuries since Pobble last had the chance to observe a battle of this scale. The last time was the great Elvish Chism. Now there are some people who could show Niall how to use a bow.”

“What’s it like? War I mean.”

“Chaotic, quicker than anyone expects, and far smellier than historians would have you believe.”

“That’s reassuring.”

There was a pause before Pobble replied. “Do not worry. Niall is not the person that ran naked from a Bulvine scout less than a year ago. Even if Niall has to fight, he knows what he is doing. He will be fine.”

“Thanks, Pobble.”

“Think nothing of it. Now focus. If the generals are doing what Pobble thinks they are, then it is almost time.”

Niall blinked and realised the night was turning from black to grey. He glanced up at the gradually lightening sky. The vague dark forms around him started to resolve into recognisable shapes. Their night march had led them onto the slopes of a small hill that overlooked a flat open area. Just below them the rest of the army was mustering. As he waited for the next order Niall stood up to get a better look.

Two divisions of heavy cavalry moved into place in the centre of the formation, lances towering above the knights who were covered from head to toe in plate mail. The ground gently shook under the weight of the immense, heavily barded horses as they passed. To either side of the cavalry were heavy infantry divisions clad in chain mail and carrying two handed swords. Wide out on the flanks were the light cavalry, their smaller faster horses lightly clad in leather barding, as were their riders. Behind them all stood ranks of archers, longbows already strung and a full quiver of arrows at their back.

With the militia, in what Niall assumed was the reserves, were two divisions of light infantry, a division of light cavalry and a division of heavy cavalry. As Niall looked on, a dozen catapults and a score of large ballistae, were pulled forward by teams of patient cart horses. Lieutenant Bligh stood with the loose cluster of other officers around a man who Niall recognised Major Lukan.

Niall looked at this show of force with awe as the thousands of troops moved into position. Military parades were never something that held any interest for him back on Earth so he had never seen anything like this before. This display was beyond anything he had experienced, but none of this was for show. Looking at these soldiers, he could not help but wonder how many of them would return to camp.

As the dawn light grew brighter another murmured order came and the army advanced once more, this time through the tree clad hill that rose in front of them. As they walked between the trees Niall spotted some large shapes lying in the mud to one side of the path. As he got closer, he realised they were the bodies of four Bulvine with their throats cut. He looked away from the corpses and carried on marching.

One part of him was glad the scouts were doing their job and stopping the Bulvine Patrols from raising the alarm, but he could not stop himself from thinking about the many patrols he had carried out over the past weeks. In a slightly different world it could be him lying in the undergrowth. The pain from the memory of the Bulvine archer – no, the Bulvine mother –he had killed had faded but not disappeared. Despite the growth in his skills, he had no confidence he could compete with Bulvine elite troops like the Bloodaxes. In fact, without a squad of elite infantry at his back, he did not know how long he could stand against even their ordinary troops.

Niall shook his head, this sort of thinking would not help him. His energy was better spent on focussing on the march so he did just that until, after around half an hour, another halt was called. Niall realised they had almost reached the edge of the woods. He looked out, to see a long range of mountains stretching out in front of him. His eyes drifted from the snowy peaks then he started as he realised that there, in front of him, was the enemy.

The Gwillish troops had stopped well behind the tree line and at that distance, in the murky dawn light, it was unlikely they could be seen. Their camp was around three hundred metres away, but the size of the Bulvine meant it felt closer. Niall took a deep breath and calmed the burst of adrenaline that welled up inside him.

With his nerves more under control he examined the camp. It sat in front of a pass that led between two mountain ranges. The footprint of the Bulvine camp was larger than Forward Base Glaive but Niall was struck by the similarities. There were tents and pavilions laid out in neat rows and areas that were clearly used for training. The biggest difference was the scale, the tents were spaced much further apart than in the Gwillish base while there were many more open spaces. The camp itself was surrounded by a high wooden wall that was patrolled by armoured guards, their large horns gleaming white as they curved towards the sky.

Despite the fact that the sun had not risen, there was already some activity in the camp. Aides buzzed around the large command tents, while the army cooks already busy preparing the morning meal, and there was even a group of soldiers already drilling with immense swords. Niall examined the last group carefully. The Bulvine wielded the large swords single-handed with negligent ease while also carrying a shield, but Niall was sure he would struggle to even lift the swords off the ground.

Niall looked away from the drilling soldiers and examined the camp more generally. He had no frame of reference for this but it seemed as if the Bulvine camp was on alert. The soldiers on the walls were moving in pairs rather than singly as was the case in the Gwillish camp. The frequency of the Patrols arriving and leaving from the camp seemed to be high. Equally, everyone walking around in the camp was armoured and was carrying their weapons. It was clear that the Bulvine army was not going to allow themselves to be taken by surprise.

Niall’s eyes were caught by a mounted group of Bulvine that returned through the gate on far side of the camp. He squinted as they approached, it looked as if they were riding on bears. As they came closer Niall’s eyes widened. Those were not bears. While the Bulvine mounts had the body of a bear they had the head of large owl. Niall shuddered as he imagined what it would feel like to face that combination of dagger-like claws and piercing beak in battle.

His attention was drawn back to their immediate position in the forest as a group of five came past them and stopped right at the treeline. Four of the group were well armoured soldiers who held large, loaded crossbows and had longswords strapped to their side every movement spoke of hard-earned competence while one of them also had a horn hanging from a strap on his belt. Niall felt their eyes pass over and dismiss him as they scanned the area for threats. However, despite the impressive aura of efficiency and danger they threw off, it was the fifth member of the party who held Niall’s attention.

While she was clad in leather armour like he was, it was nothing like that which had been provided to the Militia. The armour was dyed dark blue and had clearly been made specifically to fit her. She had a rapier strapped to her waist and four javelins strapped across her back. She turned and raised an eyebrow at the soldier who carried the horn. He gave her a small nod in response.

Satisfied, the woman turned back to the Bulvine camp and raised her hands in front of her, palms facing upwards. With a look of concentration, she curled her fingers slightly and Niall could feel the ambient Spirit in the area drop precipitately. In fact, he could almost see it rushing towards the woman. Niall tried to drop into a state of Flow himself, then stopped when he realised that there was almost nothing left to draw in. He looked at her with renewed respect. This woman was the most powerful Spirit user he had come across.

For long moments nothing happened beyond the ambient Spirit continuing to be sucked towards the woman. Then Niall noticed changes to the wooden gates and the watchtower and wall either side of them. Previously brown and healthy, the logs that made up the wall started to turn grey, the natural cracks in them opening and widening. Puddles of water started to appear in the ground beneath them turning the grass marshy.

Niall could see the guards in the camp look at the walls with confusion. One of them rushed away and within moments returned with a Bulvine that appeared to be an officer. Through all of this, the woman had maintained her silent mask of concentration. Then she spoke for the first time, her single word forced out between gritted teeth.

“Now.”