The Will Of The Kings.

Allience. Part 3.

Borrock had ordered that they would sit through the rain and had woken with a start when he realised that it had finally stopped battering his tent. He had made the decision to wait, despite the objections from Sansarris and Firminor. When he had realised that Farnbreth's army was running for home, he had given chase, ordering his finest warriors to harass them every step of the way. They had taken mile upon mile of Farnbreth's land, but the success had left his army stretched, and once regrouped, short of food. In their retreat, the army of Farnbreth had not forgotten to leave the land bare.

Sansarris and Firminor's objection was not unfounded. Such weather would hamper the enemy as much as it would them, and with the army massed, rested, well-fed, and their supply line secure, it was time to strike. What they did not know was that Borrock had not gathered his entire force until the night before, when his aide had ridden in. This confirmed that his final ally had come, and now lay south of their position. The news brought a smile to his face, and as soon as the rain stopped, he would release his army to drench the forts of Farnbreth with their defenders' blood.

Leaving his tent, he took a moment to survey his men and the land under the new sun. He was not a tall man. He stood in just trousers and a dressing gown draped over his shoulders. The greenest of warriors could see he was no warrior. Even men of his clan would admit it, but he was the commander and chief, a great leader, and a man they would die for. Borrock could wield a sword little better than a young man, but as a boy, he had ridden with their clan chief. In those days the clan had been at war for years and had begun to crumble under the relentless pressure. They had lost many men and village after village was being destroyed at an almost unstoppable rate. It was then that they had taken even mere boys to war. Borrock experienced battle for the first time as one of those boys. With his father having been killed only weeks before, this meant he had to go to battle in his place. As the chief's nephew, he had ridden at his side, and by luck or the will of the gods, the tide began to turn that day. The chief saw Borrock as a charm and from that day on never rode without him. His lack of skill soon became apparent, but Borrock was not with them to hold a sword, he was there for luck. He took in his uncle's teachings and as he learned he began to guide his uncle. In time, Borrock's spirit in war was unsurpassed, strengthened by watching warriors die in battle.

He was the natural heir and with his talent came ambition. Borrock's lands began to reach further and further after countless victories, until his border, and his ambition, were stopped by overwhelmingly powerful kingdoms. The greatest kingdom to thwart him was Farnbreth. He had dared to believe he could even overcome Farnbreth's strength and had marched north of the Black Water with his clan. His small army was engulfed and thrown back with such losses that he almost lost his life and control of his lands. That defeat brought about the creation of the four. Only through an alliance could Borrock bring about his all-consuming ambition to rule a mighty kingdom.

A shiver ran down his back, there was still a chill in the air despite the warming sun. Camped closest to him were his men, then beyond them, the Sarris, and finally on each flank of the huge camp were the cavalry of the Southmen. Thousands of men, women, children, animals, traders, camp followers, and whores. The camp stretched out over the south side of the valley they had chosen to gather in. Borrock looked out over the valley. At its basin ran a small river. Looking north, the valley rose again, and although Borrock could not see it from his position, the land then levelled out onto a plain which separated the valley from the nearest forts.

Something caught his eye. The silhouette of a rider appeared on the north side just for an instant before the rider plunged headlong down the valley. Borrock's eyes darted back to where he had first seen the rider and there, where he had first come into view, was something and nothing.

Borrock always turned to one of his aides.

"Bring that rider to me and send word to Sansarris and Firminor that I require their immediate attendance at a council of war."