Morgon slept fitfully, waking frequently to call for intelligence reports. He was camped on the soggy plain of Baddon Marsh, laying siege to the port of Dunavon. But he wasn't there to take Dunavon. His aim was to draw the enemy into battle and he had succeeded. A large force had been assembled and was preparing to attack his position.

It was going to be a textbook engagement. The natives must submit or die. The military manuals made that clear. If they submitted they would be treated fairly so long as they gave up their more disgusting habits and agreed to become loyal citizens of the empire. If they didn't, it was his duty to hunt them down and butcher the lot.

The Catti had refuse to submit and Baddon plane was a perfect place for the slaughter to begin. The ignorant tribesmen would attack. His artillery would soften them up and his men would cause further havoc with their javelins before locking shields to form an impregnable wall. Then the killing would start. His men fought in disciplined ranks. The natives were too stupid to understand that a small force, fighting as one, can defeat a rabble many times its size.

His sole worry was the Sky Warrior. The man claimed to come from another realm. That was clearly nonsense. But, where did the big sod come from?..He was training a special force in modern fighting methods and was having some success according to intelligence reports.

The thought of whole tribes coming under his command was frightening. Mercifully that didn't seem likely. The common tribesmen might regard the Sky Warrior as a hero but the clan chieftains saw him as a threat.

Morgon nodded back to sleep and rose at the beginning of the third watch. He briefed his officers as his native allies gathered for the dawn ceremony. As far as he was concerned, its only useful function was to get the clansmen out of bed. A dais had been erected and the priests of the Duideth were assembled on it.

He joined them and stared into the mist that covered Baddon Plane. The tedious, boring ceremony ended with the usual banging of cymbals and drums. The sky brightened and the mist cleared. Morgon thought that a good omen. Then a cry went up from one of the watchtowers. A young soldier was yelling about a major earthwork that had been built overnight.

***

Tom stood on the earthwork, flanked by Thunder and the Chariot Master. His aim was to get Morgon to attack. The southerner would realise that he was in grave danger of being trapped and must take immediate action before his position became hopeless.




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