\hypertarget{chapter-23-moroks-plan}{%
\chapter{Morok's Plan}\label{chapter-23-moroks-plan}}



\epigraph{``Trust is the victory of sentiment over reason.''}{Extract from the personal memoirs of Dread Emperor Terribilis II}



\emph{The High Lord of Kahtan was a skilled general, Black was willing
to admit.}

\emph{It was unfortunate those skills were being used against him but
expecting fairness of the world was to pave a road towards bitterness.
The Taghreb aristocrat had learned the correct lesson from the Burning
Cliffs: he'd avoided the narrow passes west of Okoro, taking
Chancellor's army through the flat expanse of Jugomo's Folly instead.
There would be no drowning the superior forces in goblinfire this time,
not that he'd expected the trick to work twice. That was fine. Another
three clans had been come over to their side in the aftermath of the
last victory, bringing them up to a little under four thousand soldiers.
Though `soldiers' was a generous term to use for the newly arrived orcs,
truth be told. Unlike Grem's Howling Wolves and Istrid's Red Shields
there was little discipline to these fresh arrivals. Grem had told him
in private they'd been on the losing side of the constant raids between
the Clans. By throwing their lot in with Dread Empress Malicia they
thought to better their fortunes. They might just accomplish that,
should this day not end in crushing defeat.}

``\emph{I have them,'' Warlock laughed suddenly. ``A Wolofite warding
scheme, really? Nobody's bothered to use those since the Second Crusade.
All blood and no finesse.''}

\emph{Wekesa had half a dozen water bowls placed in a loose circle
around him, the candles in between casting shaky light on the images
that had appeared over the surface of the liquid. Black allowed a sharp
smile to flicker across his face. High Lord Mawasi might have been a
vigilant man, but his mages were subpar. That would come back to haunt
him. Istrid crouched by one of the bowls, ignoring Warlock's warning
look, and squinted at the shapes inside.}

``\emph{You were right, Grem,'' she grunted. ``They split in four.''}

\emph{One-Eye showed no sign of surprise. Black had yet to see the orc's
tactical judgement fail and doubted he ever would.}

``\emph{Mawasi wants to be able to concentrate his forces easily when
they make contact,'' he gravelled. ``If they manage it, we'll lose.''}

\emph{Chancellor had sent twelve thousand killers into the Steppes to
end what the nobility had taken to calling the Whore's Rebellion. Not
that Malicia was actually with them: she'd gone to Thalassina to talk
the ruling High Lady into supporting them.}

``\emph{None of the commanders will be willing to commit to a real fight
until the others are there,'' Ranker murmured, her slight shape stirring
in the shadows. Even young as the goblin was, her face was already
creased. ``The High Lord will have forbidden it.''}

\emph{Black knuckled an old denarii with Dread Empress Vindictive's face
on it, allowing the silver to spin between his fingers.}

``\emph{They will,'' the green-eyed man said calmly. ``Chancellor made a
mistake, when he put a price on my head.''}

\emph{Whoever killed the Black Knight would be granted gold enough for a
dozen kings as well as a noble title, such was the word out of Ater. The
kind of price men would kill for. The kind of price men would die for --
and Black fully intended to see this done.}

``\emph{We start with the eastern division,'' he told the others.}

\emph{One-Eye frowned. ``You want to bait them. With what?''}

\emph{Black finished spinning the coin with a theatrical flick of the
wrist, snatching away the silver.}

``\emph{What they want most, right now,'' he replied. ``My head.''}

I woke up in Rat Company's dormitory with a gasp.

The dream had been weaker that the last, the connection not as deep: the
ghostly sensations I'd felt in the wake of the other time were missing.
Was it because I'd accidentally weakened my Name, or had it always been
supposed to be this way? Not for the first time, I wished Black wasn't
so tight-lipped on the subject of Roles. He'd already taught me plenty
on the history of Praesi Names and even a few tricks about putting
heroes down, but when it came to my own Name he remained frustratingly
vague. No doubt there was a reason for it, but that didn't make it any
less irritating. The dreams were meant to teach me lessons, that much
I'd divined on my own. Drawing from the experiences of my predecessor,
it showed his victories so that I could emulate the ways that had worked
and avoid those that hadn't. \emph{So what was this one meant to teach
me?} Defeat in detail, but I'd already known that was the only way I
could win the melee. That Warlock could break through scrying wards was
an interesting tidbit I'd have to ask Lieutenant Kilian about, but I had
a feeling it was related to his Name: it was dubious at best my own
mages would be able to replicate the feat.

\emph{My head}, Black had said. That was where the memory had ended.
He'd used the greed of his opponents to bait them into making an
ill-advised move. While I'd never gone over the battle with my teacher
as we'd done for some others, it was one of the most famous engagements
of the civil war: the Battle of the Four Defeats was in every history
book that covered the time period, often mentioned as the point where
the war started to turn in Dread Empress Malicia's favour. So how could
I apply this to my situation?I pushed my covers aside and sat up in the
cot, surrounded by still-sleeping cadets. Dawn had yet to rise. My mind
was still sleep-addled and slow, and as I rubbed my eyes I came to the
conclusion that this was \emph{n}ot something I was going to figure
until I was more than half-awake.

I slipped out of the bunk and picked up the pair of trousers I'd lazily
dropped next to it last night. Not folding my clothes and neatly sliding
them in the exact space assigned for them was technically against Legion
regulations, but who was going to report me? Every company had two dorms
assigned, one for each gender. Which dorm you got changed according to
your ranking, meaning that instead of beds and a nice view Rat Company
got cots and a former warehouse that still smelled vaguely like olive
oil. The part for women was the same size as the one for men, though it
wasn't full. A cursory look at the company's rolls had told me that
about four in ten of my soldiers were women, which was actually slightly
under the average for the College. Forcing myself awake, I ran a hand
along the ugly red scar that the Lone Swordsman had left me. The skin
was strangely sensitive, and sometimes it felt like if I exerted myself
too much it would open up again. Sighing, I picked up a roll of cloth
and bound my chest. Slipping on a loose cloth shirt over it, I left the
dorms before I could wake up anyone. My legionaries would need their
sleep.

There was a well in the plaza just outside, easy to make out even in the
half-light preceding dawn. Someone was already using it, to my surprise.
A half-naked Ratface pulled up the bucket and splashed his face with
water as I approached. He turned when I got close, nodding a silent
greeting to me.

``Do you mind?'' I asked, pointing at the bucket and scrupulously not
looking at his muscled chest.

\emph{It would be inappropriate to ogle one of my subordinates}, I
reminded myself. \emph{Even if it's very easy to imagine rivulets of
water running down to\ldots{}}

``Go ahead,'' he replied after flicking the water off his shoulders.

I sharply put the thoughts aside, rinsing my face as I got back my
bearings.

``I got word from my friends,'' the lieutenant said as he sat on the
edge of the well. ``We've got the munitions ready for the swap.''

``Good,'' I grunted back. ``Did Snatcher finally pick his load?''

There were two official munition templates for a company as taught in
the College. The first was commonly known as ``Siege'', heavy on
sharpers and demolition charges. Aisha had claimed one within hours of
the melee was announced. The second was called ``Field'' and was broader
in scope, though it had a proportionally large amount of smokers. Hakram
had informed me that several manoeuvres were taught in the classroom
related to their use, but I hadn't had the time to look into them. Both
Juniper and Morok had gone that route.

``Yeah. He didn't use one of the templates, though,'' Ratface replied.
``Brightsticks and demolition charges, mostly, though there's a few
smokers as well. He's up to something.''

``He's a goblin,'' I murmured. ``They're always up to something.''

He shot me an amused look but said nothing. Silence reigned for a few
moments and it was starting to get awkward when I cleared my throat.

``I have a question,'' I said. ``It's a little personal, though, so feel
free to tell me to bugger off it you want.''

The Taghreb boy raised an eyebrow.

``I'm all ears,'' he said.

``Why Ratface?'' I asked. ``I know you get to pick the name you enrol
under, but it seems a little\ldots{}''

``Insulting?'' he replied with faint smile. ``That's the point.''

The lieutenant let out a long breath.

``It's not like half the College doesn't know the story already,'' he
finally spoke. ``I''m a bastard, Callow.''

I opened my mouth, but he turned sharp eyes in my direction.

``I've already heard all the jokes, so spare me,'' he said.

``No idea what you're talking about,'' I lied.

Ratface rolled his eyes, not seeming all that offended.

``My father's one of the lords sworn to Kahtan. Old family, one of the
tribes from before the Miezans,'' he continued. ``He married late and
slept around before he did -- hence my existence.''

I grimaced. With a beginning like that it was hard to imagine the story
ending well.

``I had a pretty easy childhood, all things considered,'' he mused.
``Not like I ever lacked for anything. But eventually Father married and
spawned a legitimate heir.''

``And that put you in an awkward position,'' I murmured.

``My half-sister is ten. Sweet girl, spends a lot of time braiding her
pet goat,'' he shrugged. ``I don't blame her for any of this. Father
eventually decided to simplify the line of succession and one night I
woke up to a knife in my back.''

He half-turned, showing me a short crescent mark just a few inches away
from his spine.

``The soldier botched the job,'' he grimaced. ``And panicked when I woke
up. I managed to get away, stole enough from the vault to buy my way
into a caravan and pay for my first year of tuition here.''

It would have been indiscreet to ask how he'd paid for the other years,
so I held my tongue.

``Doesn't explain why you picked Ratface, though,'' I pointed out.

The Taghreb smiled coldly.

``I'm told I'm the spitting image of my father at the same age,'' he
replied.

I laughed and he cracked a much warmer smile.

``Come on, Callow,'' he said. ``Let's grab something to eat. Only a few
hours left until they want us ready for the game, and I'm not marching
to wherever the Hells we're going on an empty stomach.''

I stood in the middle of a rocky plain with no recollection of how I'd
gotten there.

Dusk was already beginning to darken the sky. Behind me Rat Company was
spread out in a marching column -- I could see the tracks indicating
we'd walked here, but I couldn't remember actually doing it. To the west
the rocks rose in a slope and led into a canyon I could barely make out.
There was a forest of tall dragon trees and ferns to the north, getting
progressively thicker. The east was closer to what I'd been told to
expect of the Wasteland, badlands of silt and shale forming tall rocky
outcroppings that cut my line of sight. I felt a little woozy and there
was a small cut on the palm of my hand, already mostly healed: I got a
strange sensation from it, like a bee buzzing in the back of my head. I
took me a moment to recognize the feeling. \emph{Blood magic}. I swore
under my breath. \emph{So someone fucked with my memories.} I strode
over to my legionaries who were still standing around with blank
expressions, though by the time I got close some of them were already
snapping out of it. I picked out Hakram near the head of the column --
he was still in a trance, so I slapped him across the face. His eyes
snapped back into focus and he let out a bestial snarl, the rage only
leaving his expression when he realized I was the one standing in front
of him.

``Callow?'' he gravelled. ``Where are we?''

``I have no idea,'' I admitted. ``Do you remember how we got here?''

The tall orc frowned. ``No,'' he replied. ``And this thing is itching
like you wouldn't believe.''

He showed me his forearm, where a small cut had also been made. Not only
me, then.

``Last thing I remember is\ldots{}'' he trailed off.

I forced my mind to focus. ``When we shed blood on the tablet,'' I
finished.

The College instructors had us assemble in front of a large stone
tablet, a different one for every company, and drip a few drops of blood
on it. The Headmistress had mentioned it was intended to recreate the
fog of war, though she hadn't elaborated. After that it was a blank
until just now.

``They sealed our memories,'' I grunted. ``So we don't know where we are
or where the other companies are starting from.''

``Not entirely true,'' a voice intervened softly.

Lieutenant Pickler walked up to us, stride unhurried. In her hand she
held a rolled up leather scroll with a broken seal. I picked out crossed
swords that were the emblem of the College on the wax pieces, something
I shouldn't have been able to do in the gloom. \emph{Ah, getting the
sight back}. About time my Name started making itself useful again.

``Map?'' I asked bluntly.

Pickled nodded. ``Our starting position is marked, though only ours.''

I accepted the offered scroll and took a look at the inked map. We were
in the southernmost part of the area, it seemed. A few miles of flat
ground behind us, with the canyon I'd glimpsed earlier snaking its way
in an arc towards the northern end. The forest extended for longer than
I would have guessed, though eventually it led into another wide plain.
The badlands apparently covered the entire eastern half of our
battlefield, a labyrinth of hills and depressions. \emph{If one of the
companies isn't setting up fortifications somewhere in there as of this
moment, I'll eat my helmet.} Hakram leaned over my shoulder to take a
look with almost insulting ease. Hadn't one of the Empresses outlawed
being taller than her? Maybe it was time to start looking into that.

``We have the worst starting position,'' my sergeant assessed bluntly.

He was right. No terrain to fortify unless we marched somewhere else in
the dark, which would leave us exhausted tomorrow. Any company with a
scout on higher ground would be able to find us within moments, and with
the way goblins saw in the dark even nightfall wouldn't be enough to
cover us. \emph{This doesn't feel like a coincidence}, I grimaced. Could
Heiress have meddled with the position I was assigned? I couldn't
remember the process at the moment, so it was hard to tell.
\emph{Doesn't matter. Can't change the facts now.} It was impossible for
me to implement the deals I'd made where we currently were, regardless,
which meant we'd have to march past nightfall. \emph{Close to the
forest.}

``Lieutenant Pickler, prepare a scouting tenth,'' I ordered. ``We're
going north as quickly as we can.''

Surprise flickered across the smooth-skinned goblin's face, but her
amber eyes remained calm. She saluted and went to attend her troops.
Hakram waited until she was gone before clearing his throat.

``Is that wise?'' he asked. ``We're carrying enough \emph{sudis} to make
a fortified camp here. If we carry them through a forced march we'll be
slower tomorrow.''

The pair of large wooden stakes carried by every one of my legionaries
would start weighing heavy on them after a day's march, well-drilled or
not. He was correct in that. But we couldn't afford to be where we
currently were when dawn came. I took off my helmet and passed a hand
through my hair, the pony tail it was kept in unpleasantly soaked with
sweat.

``We need to meet up with Morok as quickly as possible,'' I told him.
``Any company but Snatcher's catches us on an open plain and we're done
for.''

``You sure we can trust him?'' my sergeant gravelled. ``He's Blackspear
Clan, Callow. They've never made a pact they didn't break.''

``I wouldn't trust him with a handful of coppers, Hakram,'' I admitted.
``But I've got a decent read on what he wants right now. Not sure I can
answer for what he'll be thinking in two days, though.''

That was my largest problem at the moment: what I'd planned was
time-sensitive. Black had once told me that the great weakness of plans
with several stages was the difficulty of getting the timing right. Miss
the window of opportunity for one stage due to unexpected complications
and the whole thing would come tumbling down. Usually on your head, with
the way villain's luck went. \emph{Better to use several small schemes
to stack the odds than a single complicated one giving you a marginal
chance at victory}, he'd said. Unfortunately, I couldn't afford to play
the game that way. The odds were stacked against us too badly for a
handful of quick tricks to be able to see the company through the
fights. I needed to move quickly enough that the circumstances I'd made
my pacts in hadn't changed, because if they did then this was going to
turn into an actual melee and Rat Company was basically fucked.

``Get our line moving, Sergeant, we're taking the lead,'' I ordered.
``Double-time. If we want to win this, we're going to have to pay the
long price for it.''

He frowned. ``Long price?''

I blinked in surprise. \emph{Would have thought that one made it across
the border.}

``Callowan expression,'' I explained. ``A long price is one you have to
keep paying for. People use it to mean paying unpleasant dues.''

``Long price, huh,'' he grunted thoughtfully. ``Well it'll be a long
night, I'll give you that.''

Our pace was slower than I would have liked, and became slower still
when night fell.

Hakram kept my line steady while we moved forward in the marching order
I'd let him organize. He'd used what was apparently the standard for
Legion expeditions in hostile territory: regulars in the front, sappers
and mages in the middle, then a line of regulars in the back again. The
line behind the second regulars, Nauk's, was a little different. They
were called heavies: their armour was plate rather than chain mail, and
their shields much thicker. I'd taken the time yesterday to inquire what
the companies we were up against had in their roster, and been left
rather troubled by the answers.

Snatcher's Fox Company was in some ways the least dangerous, as almost
half of his forces were goblins. Shield wall against shield wall even my
soldiers would wreck them. But he had the highest concentration of
crossbowmen in the College, and his legionaries always fought from
behind fortifications. Aisha and her Wolf Company had borrowed from old
Taghreb tactics, putting mobility above all else. They had no heavies at
all, but they'd pulled off outrageous victories by hitting the opponent
out of nowhere. Lately she'd been drilling her soldiers in siege
tactics, determined to take third place in the rankings from Snatcher.

If the Wolves were all about swiftness, then Lizard Company was about
brutal, unrelenting might. Morok's entire force, save for a tenth of
mages, was made of heavies. He had no legionaries formally trained as
sappers, which would have made assaulting fortified positions hard if
not for his trump card: he had a tenth of ogres. Fifteen feet tall and
clad in a small mountain of steel, they were living battering rams that
used massive war hammers. First Company was an all-rounder, the
traditional company composition for the College. A line of sappers, a
line of mages, two of regulars and one of heavies.

The same as us, except they'd won every battle they'd been in instead of
accumulate defeats like Rat Company. Ratface had outright admitted to me
that he'd modelled the Rats after Juniper's company, hoping to recapture
some of her success. Doomed to failure, that. \emph{It works for Juniper
because she's at her most effective when she has a broad toolbox: she
uses different lines to solve different problems. But unless you have
someone like Juniper giving the orders, all you have is a company with
no real strong point. No weak one, either, but that's not enough to beat
an opponent that knows what they're doing.}

It was hard to tell how long it took us to make it close to the woods.
Several hours, at least but how far past midnight we were I had no idea.
Robber spent most of the march scuttling about with our scouts,
regularly checking in to tell me there was no sign of anyone else.
Perhaps the only saving grace of our starting position was that it would
be next to impossible for any of the other captains to ambush us. Plenty
of ground to see them coming, and while Robber's tenth was not meant to
be a scouting one they'd been used for that purpose often enough to pick
up the basics. I had us halt in sight of the canyon's entrance, near the
beginning of the forest. My legionaries dropped their packs to the
ground with vocal relief. The break was a short one, though. I had my
senior officers in council within moments.

``We should back further away from the canyon,'' Ratface opened bluntly.
``Or else go entirely into it.''

``Not inside,'' Pickler immediately replied. ``I could bring that thing
down on our heads with an hour's work, and so could most of the other
companies. We \emph{should} move, though. Too easy to sneak up on us
here.''

``Callow ain't an idiot,'' Nauk grunted. ``You got a reason for this,
Cap?''

Pickler graced him with a surprised look, apparently unused to
disagreement from the large orc.

``We're staying here,'' I spoke flatly. ``This isn't a mistake, I chose
this place specifically.''

Hakram eyed me carefully.

``We're baiting someone,'' he guessed.

I nodded. ``We're waiting on Morok before moving out, so we'll make camp
here. Half-watches for the night. That aside, Kilian, how far up can you
shoot a fireball?''

The redhead blinked in surprise. Every mage cadet had to be able to cast
two spells by the end of their first year: basic field healing and a
standardized fireball. Those that couldn't were forced to drop the mage
curriculum and repurpose as regulars. Older years learned more advanced
healing, a few different offensive spells and the most talented were
even taught to scry, but those two basic spells were the bread and
butter of cadet magery.

``That depends,'' she replied after a moment. ``If I tweak the
incantation to strengthen momentum over power I might be able to manage
five hundred feet. Wouldn't even drop a bird, though -- it'd be more
warm air and light than fire by that point.''

``I'd still look like a fireball, right?'' I confirmed.

She nodded.

``Good,'' I grunted. ``Send up three in a row.''

There was a moment of utter silence.

``Captain,'' Ratface started slowly, ``with all due respect,
that\ldots{}''

``Every other company will know exactly where we are,'' Pickler
finished.

Nauk barked out a laugh. ``Now that's one way to start the party,'' he
growled. ``I like it. Come at us, you fuckers. See what happens.''

``What will happen is we'll lose,'' Pickler hissed at him. ``She bid
eighty-four points -- we screw this up and Rat Company will be in the
red for the next eight years. What do you think that will do for our
careers? I'm not getting posted in Thalassina with the Thirteenth to
break up bickering merchants.''

I took a deep breath, determined not to lose my temper.

``\emph{Enough},'' I Spoke, and they went still as statues. ``This isn't
the Highest Assembly, and you aren't Proceran princes. If I give an
order it will \emph{damn well be obeyed}.''

I stared them down.

``Do you understand me?''

Whatever was holding them by the throat let go and I received a handful
of shaky nods. Kilian eyed me warily -- she was probably the only one
with enough arcane education to understand how I'd managed this.

``I know exactly who's coming,'' I told them. ``I've planned for it.
We're all tired and tempers are rough, but if we start arguing about
everything we're as good as done.''

``You're the captain,'' Ratface murmured.

They saluted and all went to attend their lines except for Kilian, who
stepped a few feet away and started muttering under her breath. She
snapped a hand upwards and a ball of bright red flame went sailing up in
the air. It was hard to judge if it had really gone up to five hundred
feet, but it'd clearly be visible from everywhere in the area. Another
two followed quickly. After a moment, a single ball of blue flame rose
in the distance.

``The canyon,'' I muttered to myself.

So that was where Morok was. I'd yet to hear Hakram leave, so I wasn't
surprised when he cleared his throat.

``You're playing your cards pretty close to the chest, Callow,'' he
gravelled.

What little I had of it, anyway.

``I had a dream, this morning,'' I told him instead of a true reply.

The orc shot me a quizzical look.

``So?''

``It was trying to teach me a lesson,'' I mused. ``I think I might be
getting it, now.''

``Anything useful?'' he asked curiously.

``If we're to win this,'' I said, ``it won't be by playing the game.
It's the players I need to play.''

``I take it that made sense in your head,'' he snorted, flashing me his
fangs in a small smile.

``Something like that,'' I agreed. ``Before you get to work, I need you
to tell two things to Lieutenant Pickler.''

He leaned in close.

I only managed to grab a few hours of sleep before dawn came. Rat
Company had formed a square of jutting spikes around its camp, sharp end
outwards. There was a large entrance facing the canyon for quick
deployment and two smaller ones on the adjacent sides. I'd somehow
managed to miss a rock under my bedroll and it had dug into my back the
whole time, so it was with a bruised back that I put my armour back on
after Robber woke me.

``They're here,'' he told me, biting into a piece of jerky.

``The entire company?'' I asked, tightening my sword belt.

``That's my guess,'' he replied. ``They're not deployed in a way that
makes it easy to count them.''

I nodded, and to my mild irritation he lingered.

``We're playing with fire, aren't we?'' he grinned. ``Knew you'd make
this interesting.''

``Don't you have things to do, Sergeant?'' I grunted.

``Eh, nothing urgent,'' he dismissed. ``Pickler's sorry, by the way.''

That got my attention. I glanced at him and for once his face was
lacking the usual malicious grin.

``She's not the kind of person who apologizes,'' he continued, ``but she
knows she stepped out of line. After you made us bury the stuff, she got
the same look on her face she usually makes when she screws up a weapon
design.''

I passed a hand through my hair, putting the pony tail into a semblance
of order.

``I know I'm asking the company to take a lot on faith,'' I finally
said. ``I'm not going to hold grudges over a moment of doubt, as long as
it doesn't happen again.''

``Must be that soft Callowan upbringing that makes you so forgiving. No
wonder you lot got conquered,'' the little shit grinned. ``I'll pass the
message along.''

I flipped him the finger and he scuttled off after a horribly sloppy
salute. Inexplicably, I was now in a better mood. In the distance I
could see Lizard Company kicking up a trail of dust as they marched out
from the canyon. I noted with approval that, now that Morok was less
than half a mile away, all my legionaries were up. The last ones to wake
were hurrying to put on their armour. I fished out some dried and salted
meat from my pack, taking a bite with distaste. \emph{Goat jerky. Ugh.}
I left my shield with my cot, strolling towards the middle of the camp:
there was slight rise there, and I claimed a flat rock for my throne.
Eventually Ratface made his way to me. Without a word, he offered me a
water skin: after last night's confrontation, it felt like something a
peace offering. I took it without comment and gulped down some tepid
water. We let a long while pass in silence, my soldiers slowly
assembling in ranks as Morok's company marched towards us. In the light
of day, it was easier to make out our surroundings. We were a little
closer to the forest than I would have liked, though it was too late to
do anything about it now. Ratface eyed Lizard Company's ranks as they
came closer, his face settling into a frown.

``He's got his ogre tenth right behind his first line,'' he spoke with a
frown. ``That's not standard practice.''

I handed him back his water skin.

``No, it isn't,'' I agreed.

Two hundred feet away Lizard Company paused, its lizard skull standard
coming up to the front. And then, without so much as a sound of warning,
they charged forward. A stir went through my soldiers, a few of them
cursing out loud.

``The fucker's betraying us,'' Ratface bit out. ``On the \emph{first
day}? Who even does that?''

``He got this look on his face, when I threatened to hand our munitions
over to Juniper,'' I informed the lieutenant absent-mindedly. ``Tried to
hide it, but I've been dealing with tricky sorts lately. He was thinking
about what he could do if he had them.''

Kilian's line was standing in front of the entrance about to get
charged, her ten mages standing behind the ten soldiers with the
oversized shield that served as their mobile cover.

``You're being very calm about this,'' Ratface accused.

Less than a hundred yards now.

``I'd be hypocritical of me to get angry about him betraying us,'' I
mused.

I tore off a chunk of jerky and swallowed it. Fifty yards. Too late for
Morok to pull out.

``After all,'' I continued, ``I betrayed him first.''

The moment before the vanguard of Lizard Company stepped foot into our
camp, a hundred voices howling like wolves sounded from the woods.
Armour shining bright in the morning sun, Wolf Company charged out of
cover right into Morok's flank.
