His laughing turns hysterical. "I have no idea, Marshal!"
The sudden blast of a trumpet interrupts your conversation. You pull your visor back down and ready your battleaxe.
You can see the enemy army shift. A group of mounted riders, perhaps forty in total, moves to the front. Their leader, a giant of a man atop an armored horse, raises a sword into the air.
They're about to charge.
You begin to rally your men, crying, "Ready! Pick up a pike or spear, all of you! Form on me!"
Using the siege engines as makeshift cover, you take a deep breath.
And prepare yourself for more.
Next
------
Darin watches as the newly arrived cavalry slam into the enemy. Jumping the destroyed barrier, they tear into the disorganized rebel line. Even with all their armor, the rebels have no chance against a line of charging horses.
The nobleman, Milon, is standing beside Darin, his visor raised, panting and spitting out blood.
The leader of these reinforcements pulls his horse to a halt in front of Darin.
"Velinor, ya beautiful bastard," Darin says, breaking into a weary laugh.
Velinor offers his friend a quick salute. "I's got word of the attack. Gathered all I's could find. Elya's coming with the rest of the army. She'll be here… in maybe half an hour."
Milon says, "You came at the perfect time. I thought we were pretty fucked."
"Nah. Not yet, you's ain't," the huntsman replies.
The distant ring of a trumpet catches Darin's attention. He looks back out toward the path, where Velinor's cavalry are busy cutting down the retreating rebels.
Shite.
Darin turns to the others. "Milon. You're in charge. Hold this position until Elya arrives. Velinor… I's comin' with you."
Milon nods. "Okay. Got it."
Darin reaches for Velinor. Seeing this, the huntsman extends his own hand. He hauls Darin onto the back of his horse. Velinor calls over his shoulder, "Where to then, cap'n?"
"Beyond the jungle. Arthur Hornraven and his troops are still out there."
Velinor nods. "Got it." He rallies his contingent back to him.
And then they sally forth.
Next