The sounds of the nearby skirmish drew Garinor’s attention. The camp dwellers were caught up in their preparations, so he opted to head to the east to see who was involved in the battle.
The hilly valley provided natural cover for him as he dipped low and skirted around the various mounds of earth. He was able to approach the fighting without ever needing to peer over a hill, which would have undoubtedly given him away. The cries of pain and the clashes of swords grew louder as he drew closer.
Crouching behind a large rock on one hill, Garinor could look out and see the main force of the fighting. One group wore somewhat matching leather or chainmail armor. They were clearly all fighting on the same side and their tactics were orchestrated as if they had been to war before many times.
The other combatants were much more individual. Most wore everyday clothing and weren’t well protected from the sword thrusts and the like. They were scattered about and, while some tried to pair up, most of them were unable to coordinate themselves into a strong force. However, their brutal energy was enough to tip the odds in their favor.
Several bodies sprawled on the ground, obviously dead. Weapons lay scattered around them. Apparently, archers had been used at the start of the battle, but the only bows Garinor could see were forgotten on the ground.
He remained there for a while, watching in rapt attention. He couldn’t take his eyes off the wild swings of the swords and daggers. The fighters parried or dodged in a vicious sort of dance and some part of him wanted it to go on forever.
A horn blasted into the air and with it the air seemed to change. The more experienced soldiers drew closer together, and he wondered if they were going to make a final push against the mismatched fighters. As they closed ranks, the other warriors drew together as well, and the fighting subsided. Both sides had lost several of their members and the horn had signaled a cease.
The two packs of combatants drifted apart to tend to their wounded or dead, with each side keeping a few armed men in case the other side called for a sneak attack.
Considering they had just been fighting so aggressively, Garinor found this sudden change in the atmosphere disconcerting. It felt almost as if this had been staged as part of a play instead of a battle in earnest, but when he saw trails of blood and all the wounded men and women, he knew it was no game.
The better-armored soldiers drew back toward the camp Garinor had seen, while the others limped further east toward their own base of operations. He wondered which way he should go.