Enemy archers turned one akatus into a floating pincushion at a range that should have been impossible. Torstein alone appreciated the irony that not two weeks ago, he had charged along this same route as he assaulted Zavala. If you do not, you will all die.”
“I refuse,” she said defiantly, “My forces still out-number yours. He had expected me to fight like an unsophisticated brigand, never expecting that I would hide another force behind the curtain. They enemy’s powerful superweapon boomed once more, flinging iron-tipped trees high into the air. A bare-breasted warrior cried out as she tripped over the leg of a fallen Arkadian archer. Blood speckled her belly and her short hide skirt—probably somebody else’s as opposed to her own. The enemy would fight like cornered rats desperate to escape. Sadistically, he dragged a knife slowly across her throat from ear to ear. He had expected my forces to be poorly armed and poorly trained, so I had my archers purposefully shoot poorly and hid my shields until the last possible second.
