“They’ve cleared all this—hundreds of paces of woods and bog, knocked flat. This entire ridge is one fortified line.” He shrugged. “Behind it, the camp is itself a fortress, with walls fifteen feet thick and ten feet high.” He couldn’t keep the tone from his voice. “We gave them a week, and they used what they had. Farmers, and wood, and earth.”

Thorn swayed.

“None of my warlocks has had any effect on the old witch’s defence,” he said. “I must deal with her myself.”

His hesitation showed. The mighty sorcerer lord hesitated…

Hartmut shrugged despite the weight of his armour and the overwhelming clouds of black flies.

“It is impregnable, unless we bring up trebuchets or build them new. Or unless you can simply unleash the hounds of hell to smash the earthworks.”

Thorn nodded. “This is not the battle my master wanted,” he said. “What other choices have we?”

Hartmut looked around at the captains. “We can fall back on Ticondaga and make it a base. We can fill the frontiers with blood all summer, keep these peasants from their fields, and strike where we wish until every cabin is burned and this captain has no reserve of manpower to fell his trees. We can keep his forces in the field until the cost breaks his King. We can butcher the little people with our monsters until they know their King cannot protect them.”

“Their King is dead.”

Hartmut nodded. “They do not seem to miss him.”

Thorn swayed. “This strategy of yours—it is not what my master wants.”

Hartmut, who had served several princes, nodded. “It never is. But I always offer it.”

“Give me another choice,” Thorn said.

“You can always fling your army recklessly at this rock of earth and wood,” Hartmut said. His contempt was obvious. “Unless your unseelie powers give you some absolute dominance, your army will die here.”

Thorn nodded. “I understand. Give me another choice.”

Hartmut frowned. “We could move north, around the position. On a wide front, so that we could overwhelm any opposition, surround and crush it in the mountains. Bypass any other strong points.” He shrugged. “Try to cut the road off further along. Then our problem becomes their problem: supply.”

“We can feast on the dead, and they cannot.” Thorn’s voice was hollow.

“They can bake and eat bread,” Hartmut said. “Of the two, I’d rather eat bread.”

“What of the east?” Thorn asked.

“He has another force in the east, but it’s on the other side of the river and too small to affect us.” Hartmut shrugged yet again. “I think he wants us to go east. Instead, with our latest ascession of your little monsters, I’d put three or four legions of them here and around the Hole, and fling them into the entrenchments all day. They can die slowly, and we’ll win along the road and push the battle back to here.”