"…A well-written fantasy story. The characters evoked sympathy in the reader, and the setting of a magicians' regiment within an army was certainly one I had not come across all that often."—The Eternal Night

...Aetria struggled to stay upright on her bucking horse. She was barely aware of the screams coming from ahead as a swarm of men poured out of the woods. Borlock spurred her horse forward and met the dozen or so men with slashing sword and kicking horse. Two or three went down in moments, but the others ignored the soldier and continued their rush for the general, who had drawn his own sword. He drove his horse forward, trying to cut his way through the horde and ride down the road.

Aetria instinctually kicked out at a face that appeared beside her horse and dimly cheered in her mind when the man clutched his crushed throat and collapsed beneath her horse's hooves. A strange thought drifted through her mind that she could never have done that with her felt sorceress slippers, and she was glad for the armor she wore. She struggled to free her sword and looked wildly around, trying to figure out what had happened and where she needed to be. A wave of panic surged through her as she saw the bridle of the general's horse being grabbed by multiple hands as the bandits struggled to stop the escaping "merchant" and haul him from the saddle.