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The old mage didn’t seem to pay any attention to his words. He was staring intently and tirelessly into the horizon, where a new gray wave was beginning to creep on: the duke was determined to make another run. The enemy infantry, though badly shabby during the previous few days, was still astonishingly plentiful.

But that wasn’t too frightening: Krumland recruited his warriors from the rabble, with no regard for their strength or skill, as long as they could move forward and hold their weapons, and Barbeza’s potion would give them courage and spite. What a bitch! The witch really went over to the enemy. She must have brought that monster. Ugh!

Dorrenoi averted his eyes from the little flashes that ripped through the grayness of the dense morning fog. Damn you!

«I would not fall into despair, Your Majesty. There is always a way to fight.»

«But it’s a dragon!» Gafarro couldn’t hide his horror. «A stone-skinned, fire-breathing creature. What soldier could resist the flames, eh? The horses are snoring, you hear them? They smell that foul stench… Thank goodness it’s not flying.»