Ola's battleaxe smashed into the stone bricks, leaving his hands numb from the impact.
The knights exchanged glances.
"My lord Baron, my lord Count..." a young knight began quietly.
"Shut up!" Ola roared. "Get back to your posts! Mind your horses!"
The knights dared not say another word. They turned their horses and returned to formation.
Ola stood alone at the battlements, his chest heaving like a bear trapped in a cage.
He watched the Many-Armed Folk warriors moving slowly across the beach below and clenched his fists.
His hands were itching for a fight, damn it.
Barrett leaned against a merlon on the other side, his gaze fixed on the beach.
"One hundred," Barrett told the Centurion beside him.
"Yes, sir. Exactly one company of a hundred." The Centurion kept his hand on the horn at his waist. "They're moving slowly. Their feet are sinking into the sand."
Kash heard the frustrated roars of his kin around him.
They were accustomed to moving freely through the water, and this soft land made them uncomfortable all over.
"Move faster! Don't crawl like newly hatched soft-shell crabs!" Kash urged in their own language.
"Sir, they're within three hundred meters," the Centurion reminded Barrett quietly.
"Wait a little longer." Barrett lowered his bastard sword and picked up a spyglass. "Let them come closer. Let them reach that spot."
A rotting log lay across the beach, with an inconspicuous white line on its harbor-facing side.
The archers were already in position.
They drew arrows from the quivers on their backs and dipped the arrowheads into a large cauldron beside them.
The cauldron held a thick black liquid that gave off the pungent smell of grease and sulfur.
This was the laboratory's new product-the Long-Lasting Combustion Agent.
Veylin wanted to use this opportunity to