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right flank, Locsyn left. Taflen, Rhocas and I will charge.” Rhocas leaned over and mumbled. “Llofruddiwr not fighting?”
    “You see him here?” Rhy chuckled.
    Rhocas glanced around, realizing that Llof had disappeared.
    “He’s the one who’s going to cause the most trouble. Just wait.”
    Several minutes passed, and then Rhyfelwyr pulled the two soldiers with him to the top of the mound, lying flat on their stomachs. There were two standing guard, with the other eight sitting down and having a light meal, their midday pause before the end of the patrol. Presumably, the Lianese had scouted the disposition of the central arm of Glanhaol Fflamboethi, and were returning with information, in which case it was even more imperative they be slain.
    “Prepare yourselves, should be any minute now.”
    “What are we waiting for?” Rhocas asked, nerves showing in his voice.
    “Quite down and wait, and follow me in.” Taflen nodded, but Rhocas had a wild look in his eyes, a prey animal who has just seen a predator. Rhyfelwyr sighed, placing his hand on the recruit’s shoulder.
    Llofruddiwr burst from the ground not five yards from the campsite, his two favourite longknives in his grasp. A quick slash with one cut the throat of the nearest picket, and he charged into the mass of Lianese soldiers, his blades flickering from left to right, catching incoming thrusts and deflecting them aside as the Veryan soldier tore through the camp at a full sprint, wounding several soldiers and killing two. Those still standing made to follow, grabbing their gear and chasing after Llofruddiwr, who fled directly towards where Rhyfelwyr was waiting. As the Lianese soldiers burst into a run, Gwyth and Locsyn slammed into them from either side. Gwyth’s heavy shield sent one soldier flying into another, knocking both into a tangle on the ground, while Locsyn feinted a shield slam, pulling up at the last moment to deliver a short stabbing blow with his sword, ripping through the leathers over his opponent’s thigh.
    Rhyfelwyr hoisted Rhocas up, and the three soldiers sprinted to join the battle, Llofruddiwr turning to join them. A dagger flew over Rhocas’ shoulder, and the young man glanced back in fear, but it was the assassin’s throw, and the knife protruded from the thin collar armour of the leading pursuer. Gwyth and Locsyn were sore pressed now, two against six Lianese. Discomfited as they were by the strange tactics of their opponents, the Lianese had not taken full advantage of their weight of numbers.
    Llofruddiwr danced, lunging with lightning fast thrusts, hunting for an opening in the guard of his enemy. With quick stabs he would leap around one of the Veryan soldiers, strike, and be out of range before the counter could begin. Gwyth stood as a wall, facing two enemies and laughing while battering their attacks aside through sheer size and brute force, his countering blows driving foes to their knees as they sought to catch his axe on their shield.
    Locsyn fought in the traditional style of a Veryan soldier, round shield held high in front of the face, one-handed sword stabbing from beneath it to strike or catch a blow. He was using all the years of combat to his best advantage, and a quick lunge sent a knee crushing into a Lianese groin, staggering his foe and making the follow on attack easy. Rhyfelwyr arrived in the fight with a sideways strike towards the kneecaps of his enemy, and when a sword swept down to intervene, his shield’s edge snapped up and crashed into the helmet, knocking the Lianese soldier backwards and almost off his feet. Rhyfelwyr pressed the attack, but a thrust from the staggering soldier bounced off the edge of his shield and caught the sergeant across the thigh, leaving a deep red gash that began to bleed. Backing away with his shield held to protect his wounded lead leg, the sergeant was forced to let his opponent recover.
    Taflen moved into battle with precise form, each strike a cut taken exactly