Fritha watched the battle unfold with a growing seed of dread in her belly. The wall of flames she had expected, but she had never seen this shield wall manoeuvre performed and it had worked annoyingly well, holding the Revenants in place with what looked like very few casualties. And now mounted warriors were moving on the flanks of the besieged White-Wings, breaking into a canter and charging at the Revenants. Even from her high vantage point Fritha could see the crackle of blue flame as the riders hit the Revenants, could hear the hissing screams. Fritha huffed her annoyance. Revenants were falling in huge numbers, piling around the tight-packed shields.
Does every warrior down there carry a rune-marked blade?
Asroth made a growling sound in the back of his throat.
“Send them all in,” he said to the acolyte beside him. “There will be no waiting. Send them all in.”
The acolyte lifted a horn to her lips and blew.
On the plain the Cheren and Shekam began to move, Jin and Rok leading their Clans. The solid block of acolytes in the centre lurched into motion, and behind Fritha she heard the beating of over a thousand pairs of wings.
Asroth looked at Fritha.
“Fly with me, my bride,” he said. “No more waiting, no more strategy,” he snarled, clenching his fist. “We will crush our enemy, drive them before us, grind their blood and bones into the ground. Right now.”