THE WIZARD AND THE SYLPH
Chapter Twenty-One
Baldric Rides Forth To Challenge Morlock's Army
Eight thousand elves, dwarves and men rode north, and into the shadow of the fate of the ancient elven kingdom of Morag. Their standards hung lifelessly, like dead things raised to ancient, primitive gods of war that were now long departed and forgotten. No bird flew; no living thing marked their passage. The companies rode together in tightly organized formations, giving them an aspect of being huddled together, as though flinching from the anticipated might of Morlock's vast armies.
Their trepidation made Baldric feel as though he were leading these men and women to their doom. Despite his wish to think otherwise, his own mind conjured in his imagination the specter of death in their faces, a pall of mortality that seemed to issue from their very bones. It was all he could do to look upon them, for in their eyes yearned a desperate trust in him, which in his mind could only turn to betrayal should he fail.
`How may I consider the future, when the future is unthinkable?'
He led his army with the appearance of confidence, feeling that if he did not, that they would break and run from the insanity of contesting a foe that could not be faced, let alone beaten. He felt that they sensed and flinched from the possible truth of this in him. To further exacerbate his self-doubt, his every order was carried out with such alacrity as caused him to wince. It was as though they jumped at any answer to the mad lust that was bent on annihilating them.