The Will Of The Kings.

Farnbreths Might part 1

Jago looked down through his line. His heart was pounding and full of pride. His cavalry was magnificent, a heart-stopping spectacle of horse and rider knee to knee with their leather boots and shining armour glistening under flowing banners.

He was well respected, although still young. He had seen more action than most and had either led those under him to victory or had held strong in the face of defeat. They had learned their trade from a captain of Farnbreth who was nothing short of a legend. That captain had fallen while fighting Borrock, and Jago had taken his command. He had volunteered his cavalry to form the vanguard of the army as it retreated north, looking for vengeance for their fallen captain. Roanha had rewarded his valour with the command of all his horses.

He looked again to his captains. They waited for the signal as they approached the valley's edge where the land would drop away from the plain. He was nervous. He lowered his faceplate as they covered the last few paces, and took in the scene at a glance. He raised his sword and his captains followed. They all knew their business and were released to the final charge. Jago smiled at his fortune, for this would be a slaughter.

Sansarris had ordered his men forward, eager to reach the north side. The rear lines had strung their bows and his captains were happy.

"Time to show our blessed lord how it is done," said Greenwood, Sansarris' closest friend, and captain.

Sansarris looked for Firminor's cavalry. "Forward at my pace," he bellowed. His warriors moved into an easy trot. A pace that few warriors on foot could match.

"Always a slow pace," Greenwood jibed.

"You will have time to work up a sweat, I would not want to wear you out," Sansarris replied. Sansarris looked again for Firminor's cavalry. They were on his left but had not reached his right-hand side. A shot of doubt ran through him. He could see Firminor's cavalry now. They had gone wide around the rocks to give themselves more room, but he would have liked them closer. As they advanced quickly to reach the top of the north slope he was relieved to see that there were no silhouettes on the horizon. "Hold your pace," Sansarris ordered as he sprang ahead of his line. Better to reach the top fast, he thought to himself. "Pick it up," he ordered, and his line surged forward.

Those watching on the south bank marvelled at the change of pace and how easy it looked.

"Careful," Greenwood shouted, "you're looking breathless".

Sansarris pushed the pace in reply to this jibe. The horses arranged to cover his right were still too far off, but they were coming in and were in good order. At that same moment, a flash of light above him caught his eye, and in the next instant that flash revealed itself to be the sun reflecting off a blade. At that moment his whole vision was filled with warriors, horses, swords, lances, and armoury. Roanha had beaten him to the top! Sansarris' lightfooted warriors faced their worst nightmare. His warriors could not hope to hold without full support from Firminor's cavalry.

Jago's cavalry beamed devilishly as they charged home.

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Valessa, William's daughter and Balor's stepsister, was waiting just outside the door of William's hall. Leaning on the old hay cart, she enjoyed the mid-morning sun for a moment. She was a beauty, with thick long dark hair, striking blue eyes, and an elegant curve to her figure. When the need arose she knew how to dress to make heads turn. She was young with an ever-welcoming and happy character. People could not help but like her. She was happy in her life, looking after William's hall, and when she put her mind to it she could do many things surprisingly well.