Controlling the army was one thing; dividing his forces proved much more difficult. Even with the help of Iviena’s knights, Gaelin was reduced to riding about, ordering each group of men to go stand on a different part of the field. Eventually, he hammered together something resembling military units from the freemen and managed to assign them to different commanders. It was a chaotic, frustrating afternoon;

Gaelin was besieged with questions, demands, and helpful suggestions one after the other, the whole time shouting at the top of his lungs to make himself heard.

By the end of the day, Gaelin guessed that he had about three thousand trained, armored troops for the heart of his army, plus the same number of militiamen without companies or organization. Along with the Diemans, that would give him an edge over the Ghoerans. If he could coordinate a sortie from the defenders of Caer Winoene, he could create a significant advantage in numbers. But the Ghoeran army was generally better-equipped than the forces Gaelin had at his disposal, and, more importantly, they were one army to his motley assortment of highlanders, temple soldiers, and castle defenders.

Late in the day, the commander of scouts – an old Knight Guardian who led a tough band of highland freesteaders and huntsmen – reported they’d been able to signal Caer Winoene from a hilltop overlooking the castle. As Gaelin feared, Baesil’s army had been pushed off the lakeshore and cut off from their main source of water and the hope of resupply. The scouts reported that Count Baesil had managed to stretch his water and food for a couple of days by catching rainwater in makeshift cisterns and going to short rations, but the Mhoriens couldn’t hold out much longer.

Gaelin was much heartened by the arrival of a Dieman envoy around sunset. He reported the Dieman army was camped only a couple of miles away, tired but ready to fight after their march up along the Stonebyrn. Gaelin returned to the monastery and gathered Seriene, Erin, Count Torien, Lord Ghaele, and Prefect Iviena to visit Prince Vandiel.

“I never knew that assembling an army could be such a tedious task,” he grumbled as they left, riding through the cool evening shadows. “We could be weeks getting ready.”

“Regrettably, that’s not an option for us,” observed Lord Ghaele. “If we don’t relieve Ceried soon, he’s finished.”

The Diemans were camped in a vale about three miles from the Mhorien camp. As they approached, Gaelin envied the clean order and discipline of their camp. Escorted by Dieman guards, they were led to Prince Vandiel’s pavilion. Gaelin was greeted by the lord of Diemed as he dismounted. With a slight shiver, he realized that the dream he’d had the other night had been uncannily accurate; Vandiel looked exactly as he expected him to. Dressed in a comfortable tunic of black and silver, Vandiel sketched a bow and said, “Welcome to my camp, Mhor Gaelin. It’s good to finally meet you – Seriene speaks quite highly of you.”

Returning his bow, Gaelin said, “Prince Vandiel, I am honored to be here. Thank you for coming to our aid. I am sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances.” He nodded to Erin, and the bard made all the introductions of the Mhorien party; then Vandiel’s own herald introduced the Dieman officers who accompanied the prince.

After the introductions, Vandiel took a moment to greet his daughter and then gestured toward his pavilion. “I understand that time is pressing,” he said. “Let’s step inside and discuss our strategy for tomorrow.”

They followed him into the spacious tent and gathered around a sturdy table. Over a goblet of wine, Gaelin briefed Vandiel on the course of the war to date, beginning with the Ghoeran invasion and the treachery of Bannier, the disaster of Cwlldon Field, and the destruction of the army at Marnevale by Bannier’s black sorcery.

“Do you have any plans for dealing with this necromancer, if he should employ his sorcery against you tomorrow?”

Vandiel asked. “From what you’ve told me, we don’t have a chance if he takes the field against us.”

“A few days ago we struck at the source of his power,” Gaelin told him. “Seriene was indispensable. Without her courage and her skill, Bannier would still hold my sister prisoner, and he would have the full command of his powers to use against us. But as far as we know, we either killed or wounded him so badly that we don’t expect him to be able to oppose us tomorrow. We only have to worry about the Ghoerans – and that’s enough, as far as I’m concerned.”

Vandiel nodded. “That’s one piece of good news, anyway.

So what’s our plan of battle?”

“It occurs to me that Tuorel has the edge in a set-piece bat- tle,” Gaelin said. “Too many of our men are not trained or equipped for a fight on an open battlefield, so we have to give Tuorel a different kind of battle, a fight where he can’t use massed horsemen to smash us to pieces.”

“Unfortunately, Tuorel also has the advantage in one other regard,” Lord Ghaele added. “He can sit where he is and still win. The burden of action is on our side, which means we will have to go to him.”

“You are right, of course,” Gaelin said. “Here’s the plan I’ve come up with: First, we’ll divide into two forces, one to circle Lake Winoene to the north and thus come upon Caer Winoene from the back side of the siege lines, and one to circle the lake to the south and threaten Tuorel’s camp. Since the terrain to the south is more open, we’ll show Tuorel our heaviest forces there – the Dieman army, the Haelynites, and the Mhorien lords. To the north, we’ll use our militias. Since they’ll be fighting in and among the siege lines, we might as well use the men who aren’t used to fighting as part of an army on an open field.”

The room fell silent as the commanders and officers weighed Gaelin’s plan. Vandiel spoke first, frowning. “If Tuorel keeps his army together, he’ll outnumber either of your two forces.”

“You’re right,” Gaelin conceded, “but here’s Tuorel’s problem:

He has to defend two places. You see, the northern force can break his siege lines and relieve the army in Caer Winoene, while the southern force threatens his camp. If he tries to smash just the one or the other, he will either lose the siege lines or he’ll lose his camp.”

Vandiel leaned back, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Ah. I see. You’re right, Gaelin.”

“Well, he’ll have two choices,” Seriene observed. “He can split his army to meet each threat, or he can ignore one to face the other. From what I know of the baron, I don’t think he’ll just wait where he is.”

“If he splits his army, I’ll be happy. We’ll outnumber him on both sides, and I think we can win a hard fight,” Gaelin replied.

“But I don’t think he’ll divide his forces. It’s a better move for him to pick one or the other and destroy it outright. I don’t think he’ll attack the northern army, because the terrain won’t favor his cavalry. He’ll probably try to isolate and destroy the southern army in the open terrain south of his camp.”

Vandiel grimaced. “It could be a long day for my army, Gaelin. If Tuorel abandons the siege lines in order to throw everything he has at me, what will you do?”

“First, you’ll give ground in order to draw him out, and to preserve your own army as a fighting force,” Gaelin said, thinking. “Then, I’ll advance past Caer Winoene to attack his camp. I’ll also see if I can sortie the Caer Winoene army. We should have close to three thousand men behind those lines.

If Tuorel doesn’t keep them engaged with his army, I’ll turn them to the attack as soon as I can.”

“What if Tuorel surprises you by attacking the northern army?” asked Erin.

“Then we’ll do the same thing from the south,” Vandiel answered.

“We’ll burn his camp and go on to break the siege lines, while Gaelin backs away. We can bait Tuorel like a badger caught in a trap.” He looked at Gaelin with newfound respect.