The hill wasn’t much of that by Camulani standards, but compared to the plains and fields that Aeolwyn’s army had been marching through, it might as well have been a mountain. It was just an outcropping that erupted from a slight rise in the terrain, but it was enough for their purposes.

  The scouts Aeolwyn had sent out had reported contact with another army that appeared to be hastily put together after word of the defeat of their last army had reached the capital. This one was made up of as many knights as could be mustered, a company or two of regulars, and a fyrd made up of farmers, merchant men, and part time soldiers. They outnumbered Aeolwyn’s army at least 3 to 1, but since the fyrd made up most of those numbers, Aeolwyn wasn’t worried about his army being so outnumbered.

  The army was unaware that they had been spotted, otherwise they may have changed their formations. This time, they weren’t going to give Aeolwyn the benefit of a parlay; they were set up for an ambush.

  The fyrd was set up across the road in a sloppy formation in an obvious attempt to lure Aeolwyn’s army into an ill-advised charge. The rest of the army, consisting of a company of knights and the regulars, were hidden behind the tree line on either side of the road. Their strategy was obvious. They would entice Aeolwyn’s army to charge at the ill-equipped and poorly trained fyrd, and while they were distracted by the easy combat, the knights would ride out from the trees and smash their flanks.

  Had the scouts not warned him, he might have fallen for it.

  But he had a plan of his own, much of it suggested by Sir Jom. They’d disguised a portion of the mage-corps wagons as simple traders and sent them ahead. The fyrd wouldn’t know any better and would willingly let them pass. Once behind their lines, the mages would wait for their signal and attack the fyrd from behind. The poor farmers would panic and send their lines into disarray.

  He was sending one company in to spring their trap. Some of the remaining mages would be interspersed among the soldiers for a special surprise when the ambushers decided to attack. Two more companies he’d hidden inside the tree line, with instructions to charge as soon as the ambushers engaged.

  It was good to have his old mentor back, despite the stories he’d brought with him about Filliya’s condition and the death of Wolfryn. Aeolwyn had cried himself to sleep when Sir Jom told him, and in the morning, he vowed to avenge his brother’s death.

  Though Sir Jom had said it was a tragic accident, Aeolwyn had no doubt that Alfyn was responsible for it—either because he had deliberately done it or because his harsh method of governing had been what caused the riots in the first place.

  Sir Jom wasn’t the same man he used to be. Something haunted him. Aeolwyn tried to prod him, but Jom wouldn’t share. With all that had been going on in the palace, though, it wasn’t difficult to puzzle out what had changed the man.

  At least his army seemed to have quickly warmed up to his new advisor. Aeolwyn was ready to give him the rank of lieutenant general, but Sir Jom refused. He told Aeolwyn he’d done his time in service, and, while he was happy to advise on strategy, he didn’t want to return to the life of a soldier.

  The men also didn’t seem to hold any grudges for the beheading of Count Wollams. Having seen what the count had done, they’d ready accepted the charges, and didn’t once grumble about the punishment.

  If anything, they appreciated the speedy way Aeolwyn had passed judgement. From what Galafar and Egne had been able to discern, the most common sentiment regarding the execution among the men was, “served him right.”

  Aeolwyn still regretted it, though. But, like Wollams himself had said, sometimes a general had to make hard decisions.

  “Are you sure about this?” Reiva asked as the four wagons came into view on the road. The wagon drivers and mages had been dressed in rough-spun wool. Ivsar, the mage in command of the mage corps had been given a merchant’s outfit and sat beside the driver in the lead wagon. Another half-dozen soldiers were dressed as merchant guards and walked beside them.

  They had purchased all the clothing before they’d even crossed the River Tyr and invaded Fennland but had kept it stowed away until now. The only worry he’d had about the plan was that the general of the opposing army might recognize that the mages were dressed in Camulani merchant fashions.

  “It’ll be fine, girl,” Sir Jom said.

  The wagons rolled to a halt when they reached the army blocking the road. Butterflies started raging in Aeolwyn’s stomach as Ivsar leapt down from the cart to negotiate with the man who was in charge. There wasn’t a backup plan, so if this went wrong, he didn’t know what they’d do.

  Ivsar started gesturing wildly, but Aeolwyn couldn’t hear what he was saying. The commander, who was only a part-time soldier gestured back at the army just as wildly. This went on for a few minutes, with Ivsar shouting and gesturing at the line of wagons and then pointing down the road where it was blocked.

  Aeolwyn nervously looked to the men hidden in the trees who thought they were out of view. Some of the knights’ horses started to stamp their feet, picking up on the emotions of their anxious riders.

  It was then he spotted General Fliree among them. He wondered if he was the one who had planned this ambush. While it was sound from a military point of view, it was a horrible sacrifice for the men of the fyrd. They were going to be cut down and destroyed, whether or not Aeolwyn had fallen for the ambush. The general was basically sacrificing the lives of the peasants to stop the invasion.

  Aeolwyn had to question whether he himself would be able to make that sacrifice. It was a cold and calloused thing to do to these men, who were just farmers, merchants, and other men too poor to pay a mercenary to take their place. But, they were still able-bodied men capable of holding weapons.

  Finally, the two men on the road stopped arguing and a passageway opened up. Ivsar handed the commander a small purse before climbing back up onto the wagon. Aeolwyn breathed a sigh of relief as the four wagons lurched into motion. He noticed General Fliree did also.

  He gestured further down the hill to his page, Veila, who crawled up near him.

  “Send word to the attacking company,” he said. “Wait one hour and begin the march.”

  “Yes, general,” Veila said and scrambled down the hill.

  The first step was complete. Now it was time to spring the trap. He wished he could be in the lines with the men, as he was as frightened as they were taking this risk. If it went badly, he could lose a significant portion of his army even before they reached the castle.

  But he was their general. His place was here.

  ***

  With the hour passed, Galafar ordered the men into motion. He hadn’t shared the entirety of the plan with them; just that they were to march on the enemy’s position and wait for reinforcement. He’d tried to stop the men from taking the large pikes from the defeated army, but it was of no use. Two dozen of the men were now carrying them into battle. He made sure to place them in the middle of the column.

  He wished he could spread them out into a proper battle formation, but for this ruse to work, they had to present the appearance of a marching army who’d just stumbled on an ill-prepared enemy. And that meant a long, skinny column of marching soldiers rather than a phalanx prepared for battle.

  “I don’t like this,” Egne said from beside him. The mage had been chosen along with Jor Bashi to command the mages in the column. “When the battle starts, the mages aren’t going to be able to concentrate this close to the enemy.”

  “Rest your fears, Jor Egnever,” Jor Bashi said behind them. “You have trained your mages well. Dare I say, better than most. Your concentration studies will be a model taught all across Laryndor. Give them the credit they are due. This will work.”

  Egne shook his head. “They are all terrified,” he said.

  “That is for them to manage, not you, commander.” Jor Bashi said.

  The old mage was right. In battle you couldn’t worry about how well the men beside you would perform. You had to trust in their training and let them perform as they were taught. If their commander kept second-guessing them, it would negatively affect their performance in battle.

  “It’s not the mages I’m worried about,” Galafar said. “We’re all monumentally outnumbered.”

  It was a huge risk only sending a small portion of the entire army to spring this trap. He understood Aeolwyn’s thinking in doing so—a smaller force would make the enemy believe that this would be an easy fight, but it also ran the risk of a fifth of their fighting force being completely destroyed. They were marching into a scorpion’s den, depending on the lion outside to rescue them at exactly the right time.

  “Don’t worry,” Egne said, his voice suddenly beaming with pride. “The mages will protect you—both the ones inside this column and Ivsar’s group behind the fyrd.”

  The fyrd was getting close now, and Galafar had to resist the urge to stare into the trees at the men he knew were there. If the Fenns suspected that Aeolwyn knew of their trap, it was all but certain that they would change tactics, and all of Aeolwyn’s careful planning would be thrown out the window.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Just as he was about to order a charge into the fyrd a trumpet blasted from one side of the tree line, and a second later two sets of mounted knights appeared at full gallop racing at the column. Galafar had wanted to form up into a box before the charge, but it was too late. The enemy had made the decision for him.

  “Pikes!” he shouted. The men on the outside of the narrow column who had taken the pikes raced to set them against the coming assault. The remaining men braced their shields and waited for the impact.

  “Hold!” Egne said. “On my command, cabal one—fireballs, cabal two—lightning bolts.”

  The mages inside the column shuffled behind the shields and began making their gestures and quietly murmuring their chants. Galafar’s heart was pumping now. If this didn’t work, they were all dead. It had to work, didn’t it? It worked at the battle of Lannic Outpost.

  But that was before the full mage corps had been formed and trained. This strategy hadn’t been tested in actual combat before. They’d only run drills and mock battles, and if Galafar knew anything, it was that war games were nothing like the real thing.

  The pounding hooves began to shake the earth and throw up clods of dirt as they got closer. They began setting their large spears completely heedless of the danger the pikes presented. They knew some of them were going to be thrown against those pikes and were willing to take the risk.

  “Cast!” Egne shouted, and the world erupted.

  Horses and men alike screamed as they were set ablaze from the fireballs and electrocuted inside their armor from the lightning bolts. Bolts that made contact with the armor would from one knight to the another in a long chain.

  Flaming horses impaled themselves against the pikes and spasming knights went flying, some landing atop Galafar’s men, catching them on fire or transferring the lightning’s energy to them and sending them into a spasm of shocks.

  Another horn sounded and Galafar saw the fyrd begin to charge the head of the column. His men were surrounded on three sides now, and the knights were still coming. Now that the cavalry charge had made contact with the column, the mages’ concentration was lost and the magic stopped.

  It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as their spells were too dangerous to be casting in the middle of their own line. They’d be setting themselves on fire as much as the enemy.

  It was up to Aeolwyn now. The battle had started.

  ***

  The knights had charged sooner than Aeolwyn had expected. He’d assumed the archers would start shooting first, but they hadn’t. Instead, just as the column of Aeolwyn’s soldiers got in range of the fyrd, a horn sounded and the cavalry of knights raced out from the tree line, leaving the archers in reserve.

  Considering his plan was to send two more companies out to hit the backs of the knights, the reserve troops in the trees would have clear shots at the back of his men. He couldn’t allow that. He needed to keep those archers and reserve soldiers busy.

  “Send Companies Two and Three after the reserves in the trees,” he said to the messenger beside him. “Keep them occupied. Have Companies 4 and 5 move up and charge the knights from behind.”

  The messenger quickly rode off to pass the orders along.

  “It’s dangerous committing your whole force, Aeolwyn,” Sir Jom said. He was right, but he didn’t have any other options. He couldn’t leave Company One to their fate. They’d be destroyed, even after the devastating blow they’d just given the knights.

  “What choice do I have? If I don’t, I either abandon Company One to the knights, or let their archers shoot Companies Two and Three in the back.

  Just then, the fyrd attacked the front line of Company One. He couldn’t worry about that—they were expecting it, which was why they’d sent Ivsar’s group ahead. They were going to take some losses, and Aeolwyn hated it. But this was war, and losses were expected.

  More horns blasted and massive explosions rocked the back of the fyrd, sending earth and screaming men flying into the air. Those in the back began to flee in a panic, leaving those who had engaged the front of Company One exposed.

  A few moments later, the men from Companies Two and Three came around from behind the reserves in the trees and attacked. The Fenns, who had been preparing to charge began to scream as they were suddenly being cut down from behind.

  Then Companies Four and Five came running down the road. They split into two columns and raced to attack the knights from behind. Their archers shot horses from the mounted men while mages sent up protective shields to stop their counter attacks.

  The surviving knights began fleeing back into the trees, only to meet more of Aeolwyn’s forces cutting down their compatriots. The men of the fyrd had broken and were fleeing. Wisely, the men of Company One were not breaking ranks to pursue. Instead, they chased the knights, many of whom had already thrown down their weapons and surrendered.

  As valiant and noble as knights could be, they always valued their lives more than the tactical goals of the battle. They would rather surrender and be ransomed than be killed if they could help it. And for good reason—it was expensive to train and equip a knight.

  As the smoke and fog cleared, his men stopped fighting. Even though they were outnumbered three to one, they had won another battle, this time taking strikingly few casualties on their part. Most of the dead were from Company One, as Aeolwyn had expected. He sent a quick prayer up to Laryn that none of his friends were among the dead.

  When Aeolwyn was satisfied that they enemy was defeated, he, Reiva, and Sir Jom retired from the field and returned to his tent.

  ***

  The sun had dropped below the horizon, and his army was still dealing with the massive number of prisoners they’d taken from the battle. Many were knights, but most were archers and regular soldiers. He’d issued orders not to pursue the men of the fyrd. Let them return to their farms.

  “I’m proud of you, son,” Sir Jom said. “You just routed an enemy three times your size while taking almost zero casualties.”

  “Thank you, Sir Jom,” he said. It felt good to receive his praise. When he was learning from the grizzled old warrior, he mostly got disapproval and orders to go lift barrels for three hours. “I had the best teacher.”

  They were in his tent planning their next moves. According to their long-range scouts, it was only a day or two until they reached Fenn Castle, and they still hadn’t figured out how to deal with the lake during the siege.

  “Jom will suffice, Your Highness. You’re the best general I’ve ever taught, and there’s no need to stand on ceremony, especially when we’re—”

  He cut off as the flap opened and Galafar entered, along with two of Aeolwyn’s personal guard. His friend was bloody and battered, but alive. He and Egne had seen the worst of the fighting, and the men around them had taken the most casualties. But his friends had survived, thank Laryn. He’d heard that, despite being in the worst of the fighting, Jor Bashi had survived too.

  In fact, the former royal mage had been one of the best mages in the battle. He was one of the few who still was able to maintain enough concentration to keep casting spells when the enemy’s knights were trying to shove spearpoints at them. His shield spells had saved many lives, and Aeolwyn was grateful for that.

  He embraced Galafar tightly. His old friend hadn’t wanted to leave Aeolwyn’s side. The Shielder still thought of himself as a bodyguard, and still felt like he had a blood oath to protect Aeolwyn at all costs. But he went ahead and commanded Company One anyway.

  “It’s good to see you well, Galafar,” he said.

  “And you,” he replied. “I come with gifts, my friend.”

  “Gifts?”

  Galafar gestured to the two guards who briefly left the tent before bringing in two men in dirty coats. They were as battered as Galafar, and their sunken eyes showed that they knew exactly what sort of situation they found themselves in.

  He recognized one of them immediately. Despite the dirty face and sullen expression, this was General Fliree, the arrogant and cocksure general who he had beaten on the Fields of Velaney. The other didn’t look familiar at all but carried himself with the poise and arrogance of a noble.

  “May I present Generals Fliree and Fisborne,” Galafar said.

  “Fisborne?” Aeolwyn asked, gazing hard into the man’s eyes. The general tried to stand defiant but wilted slightly under the stare. He knew that name! Fisborne was the name on the note he’d taken from Tinar Outpost.

  “General Fisborne,” he said. “You’re the one my brother was communicating with.” He poked a finger into the general’s chest.

  “Who?” the general asked, looking confused.

  “My brother, Alfyn. The King of Camulan. He’s the one who gave you permission to invade Lannic Outpost and kill me.”

  The general’s face widened in surprise that was quickly replaced by fear. “How did you know…” Fisborne trailed off for a moment before his face brightened up. “You’re the one who stole the letter!”

  “You should have left that missive locked up safely,” Aeolwyn said dryly.

  Fisborne turned to Fliree. “See! I told you someone infiltrated Tinar outpost!”

  Fliree just shook his head, but didn’t look up. It was clear that the older general knew what Fisborne was talking about, but didn’t want to be associated with whatever damning evidence Aeolwyn had. A wise choice, as Aeolwyn was inclined to charge everyone involved in his attempted assassination with treason and execute them.

  But that was a conversation for later. He turned to Fliree. “And what about you, general?”

  “You have twice beaten me on the battlefield,” he said. “You saw through my ambush and could have completely destroyed my army should you have chosen. I need no more demonstrations of your tactical prowess, Your Highness.

  “I beg for mercy. Failing that, I beg for the honor of a quick death.”

  “Out of the question, general,” Aeolwyn said. “Your plan was sound. Had my scouts not uncovered your ambush, I would be the one begging for mercy in your tent.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you planning to set me free, Your Highness? I can assure you that would be a poor tactical decision.”

  Aeolwyn shook his head. “No. Not yet at least. I am going to give you a choice.” He paused and looked at Fisborne. Anger welled in him when he thought of what would have happened to him if his brother’s plans had succeeded. He would either be dead, a captive, or a slave.

  But what part did Fisborne have in that? He’d been invited by the crown prince of another nation to capture their most powerful fort. That was a quick way to valor and glory. Had their roles been reversed, Aeolwyn might have done the same thing.

  “In fact, I will extend it to both of you. Swear fealty to me, here and now, and join my army, or head back to your capital in chains, right beside Captain Flosin.”

  “Fealty to you?” Fliree asked disdainfully. “And betray my king? I think I would prefer death.”

  Sir Jom stepped forward. “Drahius will not be king much longer,” he said. “Think on who his replacement will be.”

  Aeolwyn gaped at his mentor. What was he insinuating? Aeolwyn had no intention of becoming king. Especially not of Fennland. He had come here to punish them for taking Fort Camulan, and nothing more.

  You could be king.

  Fliree looked from Aeolwyn to Sir Jom and back, face widened with shock. “Even so,” he said. “I cannot betray my oath. Should King Drahius be slain, Fillem will be next in line. He would not look kindly on me if I swore fealty to a Camulani prince.” He raised his neck up. “Take out your sword, Your Highness, and slay me.”

  “Me as well, general,” Fisborne said.

  That had not gone how Aeolwyn was expecting it to go. He’d thought that Fliree would have realized he’d had no choice and would jump at the chance to join Aeolwyn’s army. Aeolwyn would have much rather marched on Fenn Castle with Fennish soldiers at his side than drag them along as prisoners.

  “So be it,” he said. “Put them in chains and take them away.”

  The guards grabbed the two men and dragged them out of the tent. Galafar followed. Aeolwyn plopped down in a chair and poured himself a cup of wine. He’d been drinking more and more of it the longer they were on campaign.

  “What am I going to do with all these prisoners, Sir Jom?” he asked. When the siege came, they would only be more mouths to feed, and with winter fast approaching, he couldn’t afford to feed prisoners, especially at the expense of his own men.

  “Stop being so damned merciful, for one,” Sir Jom said. “This is war. There’s only one way to deal with prisoners if you can’t send them down your supply line to a prison camp.”

  The grizzled old mentor was right, but Aeolwyn couldn’t stomach killing all those men.