"We don't have another option. A runebomb is out of the question," Miro said, "too much essence for a single explosion. A colossus will take time to burn through the same amount, and is much more versatile. Plus, there's the effect on morale."

"Let's hope you're right," Beorn said. "I still fear for the infantry. Not a man among them has enchanted armour. The enemy's orbs will tear them to shreds."

"Not if my archers do their part."

Beorn didn't reply; he simply tugged on the grey hair of his beard.

"Beorn?"

"Yes, Miro?"

"We've come a long way. Whatever happens, it's been an honour having you by my side."

Marshal Beorn grumbled something under his breath that may have been a similar sentiment.

"Lord Marshal?" one of the four bladesingers came forward. "Where do you want us?"

Miro grinned. "As a bladesinger I always chafed at the restrictions the commanders gave me. Bladesingers need freedom of movement, and sticking to a post isn't our way. You are weapons, and you should fight wherever you feel you are needed most."

"Thank you, Lord Marshal," the bladesinger said.

"A tip, though," Miro said. "The colossus is central to our strategy. See that it makes it through."

"Of course." The bladesingers left, conferring among themselves.

"Are you going to address the men?" Beorn asked.

"Yes. Please form them up."

Miro was interrupted by a slim man in the raj hada of an Alturan courier running towards him, calling out. The courier carried a scroll, sealed with green wax and the seal of High Lord Rorelan.

"Lord Marshal," the courier panted, pulling up in front of Miro and Beorn. "The High Lord said it was urgent."

Miro swiftly broke the seal and read the contents.

His eyes opened wide as he read, his heart racing in his chest, and a thrill coursed up and down his spine. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, tears that Miro didn't attempt to wipe away.

Miro rolled the scroll back up and turned to Marshal Beorn, who stared at him expectantly, waiting to hear the news. "Form the men up," Miro told him. "I'll speak to them now."

It wasn't the first time Miro had addressed an army this size, but it was the first time they hadn't been fighting a rearward action, pulling away from an enemy that could not be beaten.

This time, they were fighting back.

Miro knew how to speak to such a huge mass of men. He mounted the wooden podium, ascending until he was standing at its summit. Taking a great breath, Miro expanded his chest, projecting his voice, throwing it to the back of the field with all of his heart.