Crows circled overhead as Gerald Matheson looked across the battlefield, taking in the bodies that stank in the heat of the day. Men made their way amongst the c*****e, seeking those who still lived to carry to the healers" tents.
As the Marshal of the Mercerian Army, he"d seen his fair share of battles, but even after all these years, the death and destruction that followed such things still sickened him.
"Our casualties were light," said Urgon. The Orc chieftain had come to stand at his side, his eyes, like those of his comrade, sweeping the field.
Gerald looked at him, noting for the first time the grey that speckled the Orc"s hair. "We fared better than the Norlanders, but I fear another victory like this could well end our chances of carrying this war to its conclusion." He paused
