A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

His thoughts were different. They came more as feelings. His mind was left empty, and he spoke more with his body, flowing from one movement to the next.

His eyes saw differently. The colours shone brighter, more intensely, as if he was looking at them for the first time. The slope that had seemed shrouded in shadow was now as rich and vibrant as a field full of spring flowers. He took it all in, not lingering on any one thing, but acknowledging the significance that each small piece could carry.

When he finally left the slope, and entered onto the third straight of the triple mountain grate, he did so with the utmost calmness, with the most natural of predatory hearts. He was well and truly ready for battle – and the enemy had arrived in front of him, just as ready.

The straight was far bigger than he was led to believe. Big enough for five thousand men to cover it from end to end. Karstly led his officers to the leftmost side of the straight, beginning the forming of a natural line even at the cost of the speed of their charge.

AWOOOOOOOOO!

AWOOOOOOOOO!

AWOOOOOOOOO!

Horns came from the enemy side. Oliver afforded them the barest of attention. They were just another blip in the world now. He traced his path to his position. He could just about feel Karstly's wants, and the influence of his Command. He too took his place on the leftmost side of the straight, preparing to fold in on the wagons that were to come after him.

Only now that he was facing forward, his charge straight, did he acknowledge the enemy.

"Forty thousand," Verdant told him before Oliver could even think to evaluate it himself. "Not a single wagon. Not a single noncombatant. Forty thousand soldiers, all told. They guessed us."

Only then did Oliver's mind stir. A logical part of him put the pieces together, gauging the significance of that statement. The Verna must have caught a glimpse of them on their way. They'd used the passageway to their advantage, just as Karstly had sought to use it to his.

The rest of their forces, and their non-combatants and supplies, must have been in one of the passageways over to their left. Oliver guessed it would likely be the one furthest from them. It would make the most strategic sense.

And here was the Verna army continuing to march, as if they didn't want to slow for anything. This was their way of solving the problem of the advance force without losing hardly a step of speed for it. It was remarkably efficient for an enemy that boasted so many troops – Oliver had supposed that they might be the sort of people to do things more by brute force than strategy.

Forty thousand there might have been, but Karstly wasn't allowing them to slow. Behind Oliver, his own army began to form, with the wagons just behind them. Only now that he looked to acknowledge it did Oliver truly see what Karstly's formation meant for them.

He hadn't sought to surround his wagons completely. No, the wagons had indeed remained at the centre where Gordry had said they would be, but no men went behind them to protect their rear. Men only went to the front and sides of them.

It was Karstly's own kind of efficiency. He judged that if the enemy managed to get around to their rear, the game would be over regardless, for both the soldiers, and the wagons. There was no point in wasting men on it. Their only way out was straightforward – straight in front of them.

They began a proper charge now, with their formation taken care of. Oliver was pleased to find himself at the front, under Gordry. He hoped that wasn't an accident. He would have felt useless guarding the sides. The worth of the Patrick men was similar to the worth of the Blackthorn men – it was their aggressive forwardness that had kept them winning their battles.

Now there was no more need for silence. The Colonels began to call to their men, urging tightness of formation, and steadiness in the advance. Any gaps between the ranks would be widened the second pressure was put on them – they needed to be closed before their army made it that far.

Oliver shouted the same, raising his sword.

"PATRICK MEN, SWORD READY!" He urged them. "WE'RE PUNCHING STRAIGHT THROUGH!"

The soldiers gave a rowdy cheer that was so typical of them. It was a noise that was filled with bloodlust. They were settling into their rhythm, bit by bit, or at least, half of them were. The Blackthorn men under Lasha and the new cavalry under Yorick were still too nervous for Oliver's liking.

In his saddle, Karstly turned his head ever so slightly, acknowledging the noise. He continued to lead from the front. His own sword was drawn by now, and he was balancing his weight properly in his saddle, ready for the moment of impact.

In truth, that wasn't exactly what they were waiting for. It was the enemy that had to wait on, even as they charged, the distance between them was far enough for even the most complex of formation changes to be exercised. It was a distance of several hundred metres, at least.

Karstly could tell, as the other astute eyes could, that he'd been seen through, but that he was supposed to be an inevitability. The true test of his mission had been making it to this point, that was what he and Blackthorn had decided.

AWOO! AWOO! AWOO!

Short blasts of the horn came from the Verna side this time. It wasn't just a signal for alertness, but a signal directing movement. That massive army of men began to shudder, as positions were changed in an instant, and a different type of infantry was brought to the front.

Anyone looking could have guessed what they were even before they came, but for the sake of their own morale, they held back such assumptions until they were quite sure what was before their eyes.