Torm was a picture of calm and reserved, and his men tried and failed to copy their commander. A few coughed and mumbled and others tried vainly to get their horses in line. Lycurgus seemed agitated as well, likely from the dozens of tones of rock and soil above their heads. Horses enjoyed confined spaces when they had sufficient exercise and food, to sleep for the night. But when mounted or feeling tense energy of men around them, they were discomforted. Torm rubbed his mount's neck, letting out a soft 'sssh' to keep him steadied for another few minutes. The sound of soft digging and dwarven curses up ahead was interrupted by a gruff word and the figure of Bianca bounding into view down the tunnel. 

"What's happening up there? Bianca!" Torm called, and she stopped in her tracks. She seemed in the midst of indecision. The knight spurred her on. "If we need to move, we need to move." 

"The Captain has given us leave to go if you deem it so." Black Ryann stated, leaning over his suitably dark mare. He held his staff lazily in a grip no doubt taught to him at whatever academies he had attended, arms crossed with the haft locking them in place with a deft stance. 

"I deem it so." She said, waving them forward. "You'll see cages and a pyre. Hurry."

"Good!" A boisterous voice cried from the contingent of heavy cavalry. Torm took his helm from the chain around Lycurgus' flanks and placed it over his head. His poleaxe in his right hand, he spurred his steed forward at the head of the column. "Slow at first lads! No one get overzealous until we can ride in formation." 

With a gesture, the horses began to move. Torm and Black Ryann at the head. Something shimmered around the magician, a coruscating globe of something semi-solid. An almost intangible sphere around his person that was no doubt a protective enchantment. Torm knew better than to ask the man if he could aid the rest of the party like that. No doubt he would if he could, and truth be told, he wasn't in the mood to argue with the black robed sorcerer. They passed by the stout sappers, the dwarves leaping out of the way and telling them to give them hell. Torm would have acknowledged them, but his face was unreadable under the helm. Instead they simply moved quicker, ducking as Lycurgus made it through the hole in the earth. The magician and the first of his men followed suit, and as they filtered through, it gave him a chance to look over the situation. 

The size of the army was staggering, and they were all laid there in great, rough columns, He could see preachers crying out to their strange deity and the men being whooped up into a frenzy. Torm saw hills to the north, right of the army. A small contingent of crossbowmen were stationed there, but they were stationed for show mostly likely. Even if they were wary of a sorte, the crossbows would hit as many of their own troops as the Silver Swords. Changing the spot of his gaze, he garned the pyre. He cursed when he saw the dwarves being marched to it, some of them already strapped to the soon-to-be burning logs. 

"Can you do something?" Torm asked Black Ryann, pointing at the pyre. The magician rolled his eyes, but Torm waited for him to answer. Even under the great helm, he could feel Torm's glare. 

"I am certain they have magicians in their army, but even were that not the case, I would need to be far closer to halt any flames." He explained, his horse nickering in the air. 

The last of Torm's men had come out of the tunnel, their horses leaping forward to skid into the tufts of earth and grass at the slope of the hill. Torm shook his head, lamenting they were about to face insurmountable odds against less than 24 hours after the last insane plot. At least it wasn't his idea this time. He raised his poleaxe high. "Safeguard the dwarves! Wheel right after we pass the cages!" He called. 

Hoots and cries of acknowledgement met him, and almost as one, the heavy cavalry stepped over the rim of the hill and descended, gaining speed as they barreled toward the small picket line and the zealots that even now danced in fervor.