The Will Of The Kings.

Allience. Part 4

Roanha led the way for his formidable army. The troops of Farnbreth had never amassed such might in a single location, making Roanha feel awed by the immense power behind him. The day had not posed a problem and the sun had taken to the sky. He was confident and his captains could sense it. They, with their king, were an impressive sight in their full armour and riding their warhorses. As soon as they had realised that the southerners had made camp in the valley. they had gathered the army inside the ring of forts, out of sight of their enemies. It would be a long march to reach them, so plenty of water and food had been gathered. They planned to march with the intention of surprising the enemy and attacking with a larger force than any previously dispatched by Farnbreth. Roanha was sure his army was big enough to force Borrock to commit his entire army to the field, ensuring Farnbreth could not be threatened. If the day went to Borrock, Roanha still had the forts and Farnbreth would still be safe. By marching, Roanha had given himself two chances to destroy Borrock.

He shifted in his saddle to look back through the vast line of warriors, then forward to the cavalry, which led his column. If the cavalry had done their job, and he had no reason to doubt they had not, they would have kept back the enemy scouts. If that were the case, then only at the last moment would Borrock know he had come out to fight.

"My lord, a scout," Roanha followed his captain's gaze and saw one of his scouts coming in at a pace. The scout pulled up by the side of his king's escort and was waved through. Roanha knew they were getting close to the enemy's camp. Had they finally seen his army coming?

"King Roanha," the scout addressed his king, taking in great lungs full of air. Sweat drenched his clothes. Farnbreth's scouts rode light and relied upon stealth and speed to keep them alive.

"Speak," Roanha said.

"A southmen scout has managed to evade us," the scout was concerned but was calmed by his king's confidence. "They know we are coming, my King."

"Go back to your company. You have done well," Roanha said, laying a hand on the scout's shoulder. He then turned to his close company. "How far?"

"We are almost at our position my Lord. We have done well". The man that answered was considered the most senior of the captains. There was a murmur of agreement.

Roanha knew his land and the grass plain which lay on the north side of the valley, where Borrock had made his camp. Roanha's column was marching out of the rougher scrubland that filled the lands just south of the forts. "We will march on to our original line of deployment. Every man here knows where they are to be," Roanha said with confidence, "but we will not stop to deploy."

"We will start now. Return to your warriors and bring them forward in turn."

The same captain spoke up, "My Lord, deploying while on the move could leave our line ragged".

"We will slow our pace and each unit will be within sight of the next," Roanha said with authority.

"Jago, take your cavalry forward and cover our approach." Roanha's decisive orders relieved any concerns felt by those around him. Jago, captain of Farnbreth's best cavalry, left his king's side and galloped to the head of the column. Soon he would meet the greatest battle in the history of Farnbreth.

The army began to fan out, moving left and right, leaving their king at the centre. A vast mass of troops and cavalry came forward. Their captains received the king's orders and led their warriors on, following the hundreds and thousands that had gone before. From a bird's eye view, you would see an ever-shortening column deploying in a fan to form a solid line. They all waited for the southerners to appear and marvelled as time passed. Their fears soon gave way to a quiet delight, as their line was fully formed and still the enemy had not come. Moreover, their final moves were now shielded from Borrock's eyes by Jago. Roanha was proud. Many would have rested their warriors before a battle, but that was not in his plan. He would strike and strike fast. The warriors he led were battle-hardened to the last, and well-equipped. The march had barely tested them, and Roanha had brought food and water. The bad weather that had hung just south of Farnbreth had broken, and even the greenest of his army now marched with confidence.