"They're about to cross." Stella's words sliced through the night’s stillness.
"The archers?" Lothar questioned the shadows. From the shadows, a series of knocks answered – three long, two short, a silent code confirming their readiness. "Good. Draw at first sight of their vanguard, but hold for my signal."
"Leave none breathing?" a voice whispered from the darkness.
Lothar turned toward its source. "None."
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The symphony of flowing water merged with approaching hoofbeats, the ominous soundtrack to the coming battle.
"A wide river - hundred and fifty feet, easy." Eoch studied the moonlit waters. "Swift current too. Won't sweep away an armored man, but it'll sure send him tumbling."
"Surely that's enough to stop them, my lord?" a subordinate ventured.
"Don't be absurd!" The commander's glare could have frozen the river itself. "One man might falter, but a formation moves as one. You've never waded with the infantry, have you, my precious cavalryman?"
The knight's shrug betrayed his inexperience.
"We need to sound the depth." Eoch's gaze swept the ranks. "Corslin! In honor of your theatrical genius, the honor is yours!"
"Cor... Corslin terrified! Corslin... so pitiful!!" His performance drew appreciative laughter. Natural talent, without question.
"Enough playacting, you 'troll'! Into the water!" Eoch's command carried both mirth and steel. Despite visible reluctance, Corslin dismounted and approached the river, spear in hand.
He began gingerly, testing each step as if expecting the river bottom to vanish. "What's this delicate dance?" Eoch bellowed. "Move with purpose, or I'll have someone help you along with a lance! Forward!"
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Under threat, Corslin accelerated. The river claimed him gradually, like a sinking stone. "By the gods, is he actually continuing?" "Perhaps he's decided to become a troll." The knights' commentary followed his descent until only his helmet caught the moonlight.
"Has he found bottom?"
A raised thumb answered their question. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, both for Corslin's safety and the river's fordability. "Found it!" he called back, craning his neck above water. "It's slippery down here!" He wavered, seeming ready to be swept away. Karl had already dismounted, rushing riverward, but intervention proved unnecessary.
With quick thinking, Corslin anchored his spear in the riverbed and began a measured retreat. "All well, Commander!" Though his assurance came quickly, the knights' tension held until he sat dripping on the bank.
The shallow depth eliminated the need for boats or bridge-building - tasks best left to Duke Ravimon Dyr’s engineers and infantry. However, heated debate erupted between immediate crossing and northern bank reconnaissance. The squad captains clashed like swords until Devalosfang’s measured analysis finally settled the matter.
"Knights!" Eoch's voice was now ice cold. "Advance force will reconnoiter the northern bank! Ten squads split five ways, twenty knights per group. Your captains have your assignments!"
The earlier levity had vanished from the knights' faces, replaced by an eagerness for battle. Their trembling spoke not of fear but of anticipation.
"Seventh Squad!" Devalosfang's call drew his men together, Simon arriving last, haunted by the memory of those crimson eyes.
"We take the center - Ronnar." The captain's map caught the moonlight. "Unknown territory. Expect an ambush." He refolded the parchment. "Consider carefully. Volunteers report in a quarter-hour."
Discussion erupted among the knights. Karl and Taylor analyzed potential ambush points, not noticing their captain's approach.
"Karl. Taylor." Devalosfang's voice dropped low. "The far bank promises danger, but I need you both with the vanguard." He paused. "Most of our Seventh are green, especially in reconnaissance. But you - you're different. I know your origins, your experiences. Your knowledge of the wild exceeds even mine. You understand my meaning?" His face was an unreadable mask as he clasped Karl's shoulder before withdrawing.
Of course I understand. Karl's thoughts turned bitter. I understand murdered kin, burning homes, scorched fields. I understand more than any of you. He watched Taylor follow their captain while his own feet refused to move.
"Stop dwelling, Karl," Taylor called back without turning. "The darkest hour has passed."