The Ancient King

Act 4

Merek turned and tugged at the horse's stirrups and kicked his feet.

This put the horse in some form of fear, it charged for entrance.
Soon enough they were through, Cyrus was just in front, Finch joined and started following them, the sound of the horn and galloping could be heard throughout the forest; the odd dark figure appeared in the forest with a bow letting off a loose arrow. They weaved through trees, jumped over trunks and crushing plants.

The trees whizzed past, wind whistle in Merek's ears, heart was racing. Fear. Panic.
Aella, Finch, Cyrus. All screaming in fear shouting at each other.

Time seemed to have flown past, soon enough they were in the moor. Their horses all stopped, too weak to carry on, Cyrus' neighed and flipped him off. Merek turned to see the forest off in the distance down a hill and even further on consumed by clouds, was the silhouette of the stark mountains.
No horsemen. Nothing. They had got away.

"Merek they were waiting for us, you saw how many there were, we need more men than you or I can cumber up"
Aella rode up to Merek, her helmet up.

"Agreed"
Merek nodded.
"I can't ask the king, apparently he needs his soldiers elsewhere, but our men will be better trained than theirs, but there is a bigger problem"

"And that is?"

"They were waiting for us? Maybe a spy told them we were approaching but they were beyond that hill ready on their horses, and they haven't followed us here someone from the village must've warned them. Aella don't give me that look, you know I'm right".

"Well, what now?"

"I will head back to the village, Cyrus!"

Cyrus moved over holding his hip from the recent issue with his horse.

"Go to Kypris, to Wvronikopf, gather my men then ride for the capital and ask the King if he can lend you any good men, as for you Aella, go back to Shishka, gather your men and if you can, try gather any spare men, I don't trust a raven to deliver these messages"

Both made haste, they were all expecting this after seeing the number of men that just charged them.

By the time Merek and Finch had reached the Village, it was night.
A weak elderly women came rushing from one of the huts yelping and weeping.
"Finch!"

The odd man got off his horse and ran to her. Hands meeting her back. Bodies meeting each other. They were entangled in a hug.
"I thought ye were dead I did!"

"I'm sorry mama!"
Merek looked at the two and smiled, but decided to leave them alone and soon headed for the tavern.

An orange glow could be seen from the outside, emitting itself through the cracks in the door and the windows, inside laughter could be heard and the clanking if cups.
Merek entered to the warm embrace of a fire set in the middle of the room, around it sat men and women alike all cheering and laughing. At the end of the fire was a man in elegant clothes, blues, purples and reds.
A bard.

"Now village folk! I will sing you a song! In fact, it was the first song I learnt, and if I dare say my favourite!"

The singer pulled up some kind of lute, and within a single strum of the strings, the room fell into silence.