"This isn't how they fight at all," Loghlan said as he straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning at the map. "Or at least, this isn't how they fought during the War of Inches. In the last war, they'd grind us down. If they attacked one night, they would attack again at dawn, and again the next night, and again at mid-day…"
Loghlan closed his eyes as he rubbed his face with one hand, trying to scrub away the memories of some of those terrible battles. The demons had their own sense of rhythm, and they excelled at forcing Bors Lothian and his army to be eternally vigilant. The attacks often came just when they'd started to feel like the demons were done with their most recent offensive, forcing men to sleep in their armor in scattered naps here and there so that fatigue itself became a weapon in the demon's arsenal.
