Across the field, the orcish side were regrouping.
Their formations were sloppier now…no more thunderous charges or perfectly timed lines. Even their war chants had softened, reduced to low, guttural murmurs that carried across the air like the growl of an animal too hurt to roar but too angry to die.
Among them, chieftains barked orders and struck the weak to keep morale in place. Beasts paced the perimeter of their siege camps, growling and snapping at the air. There were fewer now…both creatures and handlers. The latest Threian counterstrike had done its damage.
But the orcs, too, had not fallen.
*****
Sergeant Odric walked the new line with Agis in tow. What remained of their trench regiment stood shoulder to shoulder in makeshift armor, some without helmets, many missing fingers or wearing tourniquets.
"How many?" Agis asked.
"One hundred and eighty-five total," Odric muttered. "We started with five hundred on this wall."
