TWENTY
Skirmish
SUMMER 965 MC
Gerald stared at the distant horde. They advanced quickly, much faster than he had expected, and he feared they would be upon his army before they were prepared. He checked both sides of his formation to see the last of his archers falling into place.
His orders had, of necessity, been terse and quick. Archers, both Human and Orc, were to take up positions on either flank but avoid engaging in direct melee. His main line consisted of his Mercerian foot, with the Orcs of the Black Arrow standing by behind them, their long spears ready to step in and assist, should it prove necessary.
He stared at the enemy, willing them to slow, to no avail. They came forward as a large mob, making estimates as to numbers difficult. The fast pace of the enemy foot was coun
