Being directed to peer Eastward, the head of a lengthy infantry column is seen marching South on the distant road, this side of the River Wythern. The tail of the column is somewhere to the North, shrouded in dust and darkness. The deep monotone of a rhythmic marching chant floats across the air a quarter mile to reach the roof of the gatehouse.
Suddenly, a pinpoint of firelight streaks toward the column from the other side of the river. A great blossom of orange fire opens in the middle of the road, engulfing nearly a dozen ranks. Several moments later the muted ‘whump’ of the explosion reaches your ears, closely followed by the distant gutteral shouts of rallying troops. Half a hundred are left charred and blackened in the roadway.
The scrambling infantry wastes little time. They break off in sections and begin crossing the river in answer to the sonorous boom of commands which reach your ears a moment later. The water teems white in the starlight as scores enter it from the near bank. The midst of the river begins to glow with a dim green light, as though the waters are lit from beneath, and then a blinding flash of lightning slams down into the river among the struggling troops. Thunder cracks and rumbles over the ruins. The surface of the water has taken on a sluggish quality, and you realise it is choked with bodies.