"War it is then," Imira said and went to Dehlios.

"But I guarantee," she said once on the saddle, "this will be the last time you see the sun set,"

It wasn't long after the parlay that the battle began.

Impetuous and short-sighted the Ettins made the first move.

They advanced towards the hills with their wooden clubs, their long-range bows and their deadly slings.

Shields would be useless against them, but the Narnians weren't defenceless: Imira had thought things through.

They had discussed strategy for days and days, so after her quick flight on Dehlios, she knew just how she wanted to play it.

She hanf approached the enemy from the west and revealed her position late in the afternoon, placing her army on the hills and asking for parlay. That had not been a thoughtless choice, but a deliberate one. She was waiting for an ally: the sun.

With her last words, she had planted the seed of fear in her enemy. The fear of not seeing another day.

Imira had warned them: the fight was today. But whether it happened under the sun or the moon, that was up to them. Whether they wanted to make the first move now or allow the Narnians to make it, that was up to them.

Imira had given them a choice and for this, the Ettins thought her foolish. Not only had she revealed her position, numbers, weapons, and plan, but most importantly, and as far as the Ettins could see, she had revealed she had no dragon with her (for surely if she had one she would have gone to parlay with him or at least have him on display for intimidation atop a hill).

For the Ettins, the choice was simple: the fight would be now and it would be under their terms.

If only they had realized Imira had given them no choice at all.

The Ettins attacked just as the sun was beginning to set.

Given how quickly things had moved, they weren't properly prepared. They had no helmets, no spiked boots (except for Thunderrun), no shields, and no armour.

But then again, who needs defensive armament when you have the best offence? Who needs war machines when you've got the strength of ten men? Who needs more than brute force and good aim to squash a bunch of minuscule rowdy Narnians and deal with a few treasonous kin?

The Ettins advanced.

The first order: to shoot at the Narnians.

Enormous arrows that more than anything resembled spears flew through the sky, but their aim was atrocious. Not because they couldn't shoot, but because they couldn't see. The sun was blinding them.

They had chosen to fight at sundown, and down with the sun they would go.

Imira gave the order and the trebuchets were put to use. Their aim wasn't perfect either, for trebuchets take time and some practice shots to calibrate, but they were excellent for breaking the enemy lines, causing confusion, and killing the occasional unlucky Ettin who didn't get out of the way.

The Ettins weren't properly prepared, but they had their slings. If the Narnians wanted a battle of rocks, a battle of rocks they would have.

They reached into their pockets for stones and with the strength only a giant can muster, slung them at the Narnians.

The Narnian giants weren't many, only four really, but, unlike their cousins, they were properly equipped.

They were positioned on the slopes as the first line of defence. They held their shields tightly and raised them to protect the infantry behind them as well as themselves.

"Shield wall!" Eurybe orders behind them to the first line of infantry. Side by side standing tightly together in a phalanx formation they brace for impact.

"Stand your ground!" another officer shouts as the rocks rain down on them, some taking soldiers down and leaving gaps in the formation, others missing their mark.

Meanwhile, at the top of the hill and with a clear view of the enemy, Lord Henry gives an order to the archers he commands.

"Fire!" he shouts, and a rain of arrows is unleashed on the approaching enemy.

Simultaneously, Imira nods to Orithia and the woman gives the order for the gryphons to take off. They had been waiting behind the trebuchets and the boulders on the other side of the hill and fly off carrying their load.

The archers provide the cover while the gryphons fly forwards to unload their rocks on the unsuspecting Etins with better aim than the trebuchets could ever hope for. Most manage to deliver their loads, but some unfortunate ones get shot down by the Ettin archers.

Down amongst the enemy line...

Some Ettins evade the falling rocks, some have their skulls crushed by them. Some sort the rain of arrows, some loose their eyes to them. Some are hit straight in the face by the rocks the Narnian giants begin throwing back at them, some duck just in time. But rocks alone don't seem enough to deter the Ettins and their attack continues.

Imira turns to Scyleia. "Now!" she yells.

"Take aim!" Scyleia shouts to the ballistae engineers she is in command of. "Fire!"

In front of the archers but behind the infantry line the ballistae were positioned, and as soon as Scyleia orders, the Narnians begin firing at any Ettin who had managed to survive the shower of boulders and arrows.

There is no ducking this time. The iron bolts, capable of pinning five soldiers to an oak-tree, have no trouble taking down the Ettins. Left and right they begin to fall like flies.

A good twenty minutes later and the Ettin force has been cut down in half.

For those Ettins still in the back, pushing forward seems treacherous. The gryphons and trebuchets have run out of ammunition, but they have no protection against the arrows or the iron bolts the Narnians keep shooting at them.

"Blasted sun. One can barely see the enemy! Whose brilliant idea was it to attack at sundown?" Thunderrun thought as he got shot by three arrows. "Oh, right, it was that or getting attacked at night," he remembers.

Cobblepound, leader of this Ettin clan, had already made it through along with Wildweather and is in need of some assistance.

Thunderrun decides to make a run for it, after all, he is known for being the fastest amongst his clan.

He presses the rest to advance and leads them forward, but only half of those who advance with him make it through.

Cobblepound, however, is ignorant of all this. He turns right and he sees Ettins, he turns left and sees more Ettins. The rest will catch up, now is not the time to look back. He has reached the slope along with a lucky few and for him, victory is at the tip of his fingers. He can smell it, he can almost reach it.

The Narnian trebuchets are useless now against him and the gryphons have stopped raining rocks on them. All he needs to do is deal with the four Narnian giants, take their shields to protect himself against the arrows, and destroy whatever's throwing those blasted iron bolts at them. Then he can finally squash the Narnians and their silly Queen like the vermin he believes them to be.

"Forward!" Cobblepound cries and rouses those with him.

"Forward, we almost have 'em!" he urges them to advance, ignorant of the heavy loss he has suffered in the back.

But moving forward proves nearly impossible.

Not only can they not see their enemy clearly, but between the arrows, the iron bolts, the rock-littered ground and the stones the Narnian giants keep throwing at them, the Ettins are at a disadvantage.

The Ettin in front of Cobblepound takes one too many arrows and falls back, crashing into him and making him roll backwards and hit his head on one of the many rocks that litter the hill. Rocks they previously threw at the Narnians with their slings.

"Get those bloody archers!" he shouts to his diminishing troops and reaches down to pick up a rock. He squints his eyes, aims and throws.

Three Narnian archers go down.

"Get 'em!" he bellows. "Get with the rocks!"

His comrades reach down into the ground and do as he did.

The Archers take some good hits, but some rocks miss their mark by a lot and roll down the other side of the hill.

An idea pops into Imira's mind.

she rides to the gryphons who had made it back into position and orders them to pick up the rock. A couple of minutes later and a new shower of rocks hits the Ettins.

"Shoot those bloody birds!" Cobblepound cries out, hiding behind the corpse of a fallen Ettin, but he has no more archers to command. They have all been taken down by the Narnians.

He turns left and sees Thunderrun with over two dozen arrows sticking out of his body.

"Run fast and run true, Thunderrun. Break through their ranks!" Cobblepound orders and Thunderrun obeys. But three steps forward and his spiked boots get caught in the hillside. He trips. And as soon as he gets up, an iron bolt takes him down.

"Agh!" Cobblepound bellows in rage. "Destroy those cursed machines!" he shouts to the others as he picks up another rock and throws it at the Narnians.

A minotaur and the faun behind him die.

He picks up more rocks and throws them at them. Those still standing do as he says.

Arrows, iron bolts and rocks are exchanged between the armies. Lives are lost.

"Kill them all!" Cobblepound yells, but there are no more Ettins for him to command.

The hillside is littered with Ettin corpses. Those who didn't die in the exchange have now realized they stand no chance against the Narnians and flee.

"Cowards! All of you, cowards!" Cobblepound roars at the defectors. "I'll kill them myself!"

He gets up and charges towards the Narnians. He is met with a rain of arrows, but he persists. However, just before he reaches the infantry line, Imira shoots at him with a ballista and down rolls Cobblepound.

The Narnians cheer. The battle is won.

"Should we go after them?" Henry asks Imira, looking at the defector Ettins, pulling up his horse next to the ballista she stands behind.

"No, let them go," she replies and walks towards the top of the hill. "Enough have died today,"

"They'll warn the others," Henry reminds her, following her on foot. "Give them information on our numbers and location,"

She smirks. "Let them. We won't stay here for long. And besides," she looks down at the two hills that stand behind the one they're at, where twice as many soldiers and ballistae await further orders. "They barely saw a thing,"