"How many?" she demanded.
"At least ten different companies-s. I s-saw their standards — s. They are w-waiting for you at the east end of the v-valley beyond this pass-s, three miles distant-t."
"Good," Sarya said. "Return and see if you can get a good count of their numbers and dispositions."
The vrock bowed again and flapped off, the platform bobbing as the creature's weight left it.
"Three miles," she said aloud. "It will take us hours to get the main body up and over the pass. Dawn will be close by the time we are through the pass."
"Should we send the fey'ri against them now, while they are still marching?" Mardeiym asked her. "We could strike them hard, right now."
"No," Sarya replied, "we brought our orc allies for a reason. Let's keep our forces together, so that we can crush the Evereskans in a single blow rather than send our army at them one piece at a time. That way lies defeat."
She found her seat and sat down, curling her long, snakelike tail around her feet. After twenty days of tortuous marching alongside slow, clumsy orcs and giants, Evereska was within her grasp.
The first gray streaks of dawn gathering in the eastern sky did little to warm the damp chill of the cwm. The rain had finally given out in the middle of the night, but the overcast was so low that Evereska's higher peaks pierced the clouds, leaving scraps and tatters of mist to drift by only a few hundred feet overhead. The bowl-shaped West Cwm was high and bare compared to other parts of Evereska, flirting with the tree line. A large, deep lake of icy water lay close under the cliffs on the southern side of the cwm. It struck Araevin as an open and unforgiving battleground, especially against aerial foes. He would have preferred to fight under the cover of the trees, where winged sorcerers and demons would have to come well within bowshot to attack.
He peered into the night, trying to piece together what he could see of the approaching army. Elves needed less light to see by than humans did. Even in the darkness Araevin could make out the saddle of the Sentinel Pass, about three miles distant. The fight at the pass had been over for better than three hours, and very few of the elves who'd volunteered to fight there had returned. He could glimpse movement there, distant torches and large, awkward wagons threading their way over the pass and into Evereska's heart.
Marching steadily eastward toward him came a great, shapeless mass, sprinkled here and there with torches and burning brands-the army of the daemonfey. Their numbers seemed to fill the cwm, and menacing black shadows wheeled and soared above the marching orcs and ogres. A vast, many-throated rumble preceded the army, the rustle and creaking of armor, the clash of weapons on shields, the bone-shaking thunder of hundreds of war drums, hisses and screeches and roars of demons and other fiendish things from the hells beyond the world. Briefly Araevin entertained the curious impression that the whole valley was a cup being filled from the Sentinel Pass, and that in time the horde would fill it up entirely and spill out over the sides.
The leaders of the horde were less than a thousand yards from the elven ranks. Araevin could pick out individuals: bare-chested orc berserkers, hulking ogres, and demons wrapped in fire, shadow, or foulness, all prowling forward in a ragged wave.
"Not long now," murmured Starbrow, standing close by Araevin. The moon elf champion stood amid a loose knot of elves that included Seiveril, Ilsevele, Grayth and Maresa, the Blade-Major Rhaellen of Evereska, and a number of Miritar guards and Swords of Evereska. Keryvian was naked in his hand. The blade was a hand-and-a-half sword, and its cold blue steel seemed to glow in the darkness. "Not long now."
Araevin's heart hammered in his chest. At least I know my magic can hurt their demons, he told himself.
He couldn't imagine how someone could stand in the ranks with a sword of mundane steel, watching a demon immune to such things stalk closer with every step. He looked up and down the lines, fixing in his mind for one final time the army's positions, in case he needed to know them.
Lord Elvath Muirreste commanded the right flank, where the terrain was more open and the mounted knights would be able to maneuver. Jerreda Starcloak and her wood elves held the left flank, overlooking the lake. A determined attacker might try to skirt the steep slopes and broken forest on the south side of the cwm, and the wood elves seemed like just the sort of light and mobile force to defend that difficult approach. Wood elf snipers and skirmishers lay hidden in other spots in the vale, as well.
Vesilde Gaerth and the Knights of the Golden Star served as perhaps the most important contingent in the crusade's army: the reserve. Since many of the knights were clerics or possessed enchanted weapons, it was thought that they could be held out of the fight until the demons engaged some portion of the army, then move to aid the endangered troops. Stationed in the rear of the army, the knights also served to guard the Sunset Gate at the crusade's back. The high, narrow cleft leading down to the Vine Vale was the only possible retreat from the West Cwm if things went poorly.
Seiveril himself commanded the center, with the moon elf Starbrow as his deputy. There most of the elven infantry were massed, in orderly ranks of spearmen, swordsmen, and archers. It was also the place where most of the crusade's mages, under the leadership of the half-elf Jorildyn, stood waiting to unleash their battle spells. The best of those companies were battle-hardened Evereskan Vale Guards, steady and unflinching in the defense of their homeland. But more than half the Evereskan army remained in the city, in case the daemonfey decided to bypass the fight in the West Cwm. Seiveril had also left almost two thousand of his own soldiers there, a full third of his army, though he had chosen the companies with the least experience and equipment for that duty.
With a loud groan and clatter, the approaching horde came to a ragged stop just out of bowshot. orcs and other foul creatures hooted and jeered in their uncouth tongues, shaking their weapons in the air, gnashing their teeth.
On the other side of the battlefield, the elves waited with icy calm. Off to his left, Araevin distinctly heard Jerreda's wood elves jeering right back at the orcs.
"This seems like a good time for a few spells," Araevin said.
He quickly recited the words for the stoneskin spell, dusting Ilsevele, Grayth, Maresa, and himself with powdered diamond-he was almost out of the stuff, unfortunately-and reciting the words of the abjuration.
"What are they waiting for?" Ilsevele wondered aloud. "Do they intend to parley first? What in the world do they think they could offer us?"
"They're not going to parley," Starbrow replied. "They're looking for the standards. Stay on your guard."
Araevin quickly reviewed the rest of the spells he held ready in his mind, and checked the wands at his belt. Moonrill hung on his left hip, though he hoped he wouldn't need it. He was a passable swordsman, but magic was a much better weapon in his hands.
"Hey!" Maresa yelled out. "That's all they've got? You didn't bring enough orcs, you morons. Go back home and get some more! And your mothers-"
The genasi's jeering was interrupted by the tremendous blast of a heavy horn from somewhere in the enemy ranks. A dozen lesser horns caught the note and repeated it, until the West Cwm echoed with the sound. With a ground-shaking roar, the dark ranks surged forward, crooked swords and notched axes held high, while behind them a whole legion of the fey'ri leaped into the air, mighty wings thundering as they climbed above the rabble.
It begins, Araevin thought.
He raised his hands and hurled his first spell of the battle.
CHAPTER 13
27 Ches, the Year of Lightning Storms
Five hundred yards stood between the two armies when the daemonfey horns sounded their charge. The orc berserkers, unburdened by heavy armor, raced out ahead of the surging horde, running full out for the elven lines, roaring like dumb beasts as they came. Ogres and trolls loped along just behind the berserkers, covering two yards with each stride, frighteningly fast for their bulk and power.