"There you are."
Ertai saw Belbe standing nearby. Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed her arrival.
"What are you doing?" she said.
"Contemplating my options."
She pointed. "What's that?"
"Food. Do you want some?" He handed her the package, now half empty.
"I don't eat," Belbe said, sniffing a biscuit. "Where did you find these?"
"In there. Volrath must have kept them on hand for snacks."
"Volrath was energy sufficient, like me. He didn't need to eat." She read the Phyrexian script on the biscuit wrapper. "I'm sure he never ate this."
"Why?" asked Ertai. "What is it?"
" 'Mogg wafers,' it says."
Ertai grimaced. "This is mogg food?"
"No, it's made of moggs. I imagine Volrath fed these wafers to his experimental animals."
Crovax emerged from his stupor to find three dead elves in his tent, Sergeant Tharvello wounded, and his entire staff ranting about a night attack by the rebels. He shouted for silence.
"Send the First Cavalry Company to fend off the rebels," Crovax said. "Hold the Third and Fourth Cavalry in reserve, north of camp. Get the infantry and moggs moving. I want a standard echelon formation with no more than ten yards between each company. String the moggs out in front as skirmishers. What is the strength of the enemy?"
"Unknown," said Nasser. "The scouts estimate more than a hundred, all on foot."
"It may be a diversion," Crovax said. "Maintain a sharp watch on other fronts. To your posts!"
He stepped over the corpses without a second look. Tharvello, his face bleeding, went to his company without any questions or thanks from his commander.
Crovax emerged from camp and stalked quickly through the wire grass. The night was tinged cobalt by the distant glow of the Stronghold's energy column. Overhead the clouds swirled in a wide spiral pattern, flashes of green lightning arcing from one band of clouds to another.
A cavalry officer galloped in, his lance bloody. "My lord! The enemy is retreating to the swamp!"
"Who are they? What were they doing?" Crovax demanded.
"They're Vec, my lord. Our riders first spotted them crawling through the grass toward the camp."
"Vec? So Eladamri has allies. No matter. Harry them to the forest edge, Captain, but don't enter the swamp. There may be more of them lying in wait for just such a move."
The captain saluted and galloped away.
Crovax called for his kerl. Behind him, the Expeditionary Force was drawing up on the plain in a checkerboard formation. Each block represented a troop of fifty men, and four blocks made a company. Moggs formed a ragged line ahead of the regular troops. The Rathi battle formation was a mile long from west to east, with the camp nestled behind the center of the line. The balance of Crovax's cavalry was positioned north of the tents, in reserve.
Crovax rode out to see the actual fighting. In the eerie half-darkness, the Rathi cavalry was circling small groups of Vec warriors, who popped up now and then to throw hatchets or stone-tipped spears at the kerls and riders. Crovax saw a stone spearhead shatter on a cavalryman's shield and laughed.
"Move in on them!" Crovax cried. "They're just savages! They're using stone spears! What are you, a gang of moggs?" Stung by his taunts, the cavalry overran the Vec, lancing nomad warriors right and left. Groups of Vec not yet engaged began to run for the swamp, half a mile away.
Crovax slumped in his saddle. This was no contest. "Recall the troopers," he said. Perchers took to the air, screeching his orders.
Nasser approached and Crovax called to him. "Any movement on other fronts?"
"No, my lord. I've sent scouts out in all directions. They report no rebels in sight."
They rode together back to the battle line. To Crovax's surprise, the soldiers in the front ranks raised a ragged cheer.
"They've changed their tune," he said.
"All soldiers want is victory," Nasser replied.
The wind died for the first time in many hours. A fragile stillness ensued. The night grew darker as the clouds spread apart, filling the whole sky. A series of wavering orange lights appeared on the plain north of the Rathi camp. Far away, the Hub reversed its rotation, sending a fresh wind rushing from the north. It arrived on the battlefield heavy with the odor of smoke.
"Campfires?" Nasser wondered. Crovax stood in his stirrups. A smear of white smoke rolled down the plain. With his enhanced eyes he could plainly see his reserve cavalry silhouetted against the wind-driven cloud.
"Something's wrong."
Flames leaped skyward from the dry prairie. The plain north of the camp was on fire, and the wind's change of direction was propelling the flames toward Crovax's army.
"Face about!" Crovax shouted. "The enemy's behind us!"
Elves, whirling torches around their heads, ran through the high grass, applying brands to the thickly growing weeds. Now a wall of flame a mile long came sweeping toward Crovax. Behind it were more than a thousand elf warriors.
The cavalry kerls were dumb beasts, bred for endurance and passivity, but they would not stand in the way of fire. Two cavalry companies milled about in confusion as their mounts bleated in growing terror. Reluctantly, Crovax ordered them out of the way and sent the infantry marching back through the camp to meet the enemy. Tents and stacks of equipment disrupted the tight battle formation. The formal checkerboard broke down into streams of soldiers, leaning forward into the wind and smoke.
The gap between the Rathi soldiers and the elves closed to a few yards. Tents were burning all along the north side of the camp. Behind the smoke and flames, the elves hurled salvoes of spears. Their snakefang tips were keen, and though they didn't always pierce Rathi armor, they did find enough chinks to inflict casualties on the advancing infantry. When the soldiers slowed under the hail of spears, the fire caught up to them. The lead ranks wavered and began to fall back. Moggs were already scampering through the camp, hooting in alarm.
"Why are they retreating? I ordered no withdrawal!" Crovax shouted.
"Men can't fight in a fire," Nasser said. "We must abandon the camp!"
"Give up the camp to rebels? Never!"
He spurred forward, trampling men and moggs who got in his way. A wave of fire was inundating the tents and had almost reached the center of camp. Soldiers staked in the square for punishment screamed for help as the flames advanced. Some of their comrades tried to reach them, but the conflagration rapidly engulfed the area, turning the square into an enormous funeral pyre.
Crovax held his shield over his head to ward off the rain of elven spears. His kerl blubbered and pranced, anxious to escape the flames. Crovax ignored the protesting beast, standing in his stirrups and staring through the fire for a glimpse of Eladamri and his rebels.
Commander or not, the kerl had had enough. It lay down, rubbed Crovax off, bounded to its feet and galloped away, bleating. He didn't have time to curse the stupid beast before flames washed over him. He threw an arm over his face and waited for the searing pain.
It never came. Crovax felt the heat, but it never crossed his threshold of pain. Pleased, he jumped to his feet. The fire had passed him, still propelled by the Hub wind.
In the flickering light, hundreds of lightly armed elves darted in and out, lofting their spears over the advancing fire. Roaring, Crovax charged into the nearest group, slashing at them with his sword. Every elf evaded his blade, melting back into the darkness beyond the firelight.
"I am Crovax! Crovax of Urborg!" he bellowed. "Come out, Eladamri, and fight me face to face!"