King Elric smiled a cold, humourless smile as he watched the thick billows of smoke and crackling flame chew deeper into the dark canopy of the wandering woods. Nothing, neither ancient sorcery nor stubborn barriers, would block his path to his queen. He would tear this forest to ash if it meant reclaiming what was his.
"Fire!" Elric roared, his voice cutting through the roar of the fire.
Scores of archers torched their pitch-dipped arrows, drawing their bows to the ear before loosing a volley that plunged deep into the dense timber, blooming into fresh walls of fire. As the inferno consumed the deep woods, a lycan general stepped close to the monarch, bowing his head.
"Majesty," the brute rasped, "the mounts will never endure this furnace, nor tread the smoldering earth once the flames die down. Will this not shatter our march?"
