“How many orcs do you think will come for us?” Igan inquired in a sullen tone. He knew that a horde was massing in the Spine of the World, so they could be face insurmountable odds. “Many Arrows has dominion over thousands,” Aeron replied insightfully. “But it’s unlikely these are under his direct command. He wants to concur the whole of the Marches… Winter Edge is too small a prize for him to be interested in. They’re likely a tribe that’s sworn loyalty to him but operate independently… as most of them do. Therefore, they probably only have three hundred or so warriors to send against you.” “That’s still more than enough to overwhelm us,” Zora pointed out in an angry growl. “If you just hold up inside your walls and let them hammer at your gate… they will eventually break through. But if you slay a substantial number of them, they’ll think twice about coming back,” Aeron observed, then he turned to survey the town. A central avenue at least a hundred and fifty feet long and thirty feet wide ran from the main gate to the secondary one before the great hall, which sat on the crest of the hill. The dozen homes and businesses on either side were all fronted by slated fences which stood about six feet tall, with open allies between them. A second row of homes and business stood behind the first and to one side were barns and pens for livestock. A sly smile turned his lips as he offered; “If you close off the spaces between those fences, you can trap the orcs in a killing field between the main gate and the great hall’s. If that area is covered in hay and straw soaked in something flammable… like oil, wine or ale… and set afire with the orcs inside, they’ll stand little chance. It’s a risk… if they break out you won’t have enough defenders to stop them, but if it works, you could kill half of them in a single stroke.” Igan looked down on the town under his protection and considered the young ranger’s daring gambit. If successful it could end the threat that has loomed over them for months, but if it failed… it would be the end of Winter Edge. Looking to his trusted sergeant he ordered in a resolute tone; “Zora… prepare a means to close off the allies along the main avenue… additional fences, carts that can be overturned… anything to seal the gaps, and make ready to have bales of straw soaked in anything that will burn so it can be spread across the area. We’ll have to devise a way to reseal the gate once the trap is sprung… in case those that survive try to rally.” Turning to the cleric, who’d been lurking in the rear of the group, fuming silently, he growled; “It seems you’ll get the battle that you claim Tempus has demanded… either we’ll sacrifice more than a hundred orcs in his name, or we’ll die fighting. If the Lord of Battles wants blood we’ll give it to him… so maybe he’ll favor us with victory.” Then he turned back to Aeron and asked with a heavy sigh; “How long do you think we have?” “Not long,” the young ranger answered in a solemn tone, “if they’ve been testing your defenses for months, they should know what they need to by now… and winter comes quickly here in the North.”