The moment the outlaws joined the fray, the battle swung round completely in favour of the rebels. Fresh men, fresh hope and fresh determination brought the battle-light back into the eyes and hearts of the bedraggled rebel soldiers, and they turned back to the front line as new men.
The armies clashed, and Beatrix realised that the outlaws were far more numerous than she’d ever imagined. These could not all be Keiran’s outlaws, there must be at least ten, eleven, maybe even twelve different groups here, amounting to thousands of men and women all used to fighting for their lives.
And this time it was Aaron sounding the retreat.
The roar from the rebel force was deafening as the guardsmen fled, but they knew better than to chase them, instead turning back to their own camp. It was late - the fighting day was nearly over. But it was strange, all the same, to see the two camps so close to each other, outside firing distance but not much else. How easy would it be for Aaron to engulf the rebels during the night?
It was not a pleasant thought.