He had no speeches for them, though he could sense their nervousness. He could only give them one thing – a calm and implacable expression, though his heart was thumping.
He clutched his heavy warhammer in one hand and his horse made a clearly pained expression at the unevenly distributed weight. Vol was well aware that he wouldn't be able to swing the weapon from horseback, not unless he wished to kill the beast, but nor did he wish to leave either the hammer or the horse behind.
Across the field, the Green Skins waited. Bert had already roused his men. Now they were calm and ready. Every man seemed aged, at least in their thirties. But even with that age, there seemed to be no trace of weakness. They were like an old stone wall, and their presence was overwhelming, even from across the other side of the battlefield.
"The villagers are watching again," Silverfish commented lightly, as he joined Vol on his horse.
