The dawn did not come with light.
Only smoke and the dull orange glow of embers on the horizon signaled the start of the new day. The wind carried the stench of burning oil, black powder, and blood thick enough to make even veteran soldiers gag. From the stronghold, Captain Braedon watched the low mist swirl across the plains, crawling through the no-man's-land like a living thing.
They all knew the next attack was coming.
He tightened the straps on his chest plate, his fingers pausing only when a low thrum of drums echoed faintly in the distance.
Then a second beat joined it.
Then more.
Within moments, the entire expanse beyond the barricades thundered with the cadence of war. The orcs were coming once again.
"Positions!" Braedon's voice rang out, followed by horns up and down the line.
