Many

“We’ve buried all of our dead, sir,” Rhajj said.

Rastaban stood overlooking the battlefield, blood-spattered grass and strewn with enemy bodies. Rastaban wanted to behead them and display them on pikes around his camp, but he couldn’t afford to delay.

“Gather the rest of the men. We’re marching back to the valley.”

Rhajj nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Khouri stepped up beside them. “So that’s it? Where will we find food?”

“We will take our spoils from those she-demons,” Rastaban said. “But first, we must rally more troops.”

“More, sir?”

Rastaban sheathed his sword. “As many as we can get.”