Chapter FortyBorrowed sword clenched in his left fist, Rahne watched Aridor's army push forward as if guided by some invisible hand. Several hundred paces ahead, the sound of swords clashing against shields and the tumult of battle cries overpowered even that of the rain.
Warran had ordered bonfires to be set up at regular intervals near the tree lines and assigned several soldiers to keep them lit by whatever means necessary. The light they provided was inadequate, but it would have to do. At least the unholy incandescence of Elzaria's lightning had ceased for the moment.
He noticed a small group of people fighting against the traffic of foot-soldiers surging forward to engage the enemy. Moments later, King Aridor emerged from the throng, frustration and pent-up rage emanating from him
