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    How pathetic you''ve become, Lannord. Unhorsed like some common footman. He began dragging himself toward the roadside. Is this how my first battle ends? His eyes traced the wounds already beginning to seal themselves. At least I won''t be branded a deserter.


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    The smell of blood and decay filled the air.


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    His mount must be spent, Lannord reasoned. The knight, moved by either curiosity or misplaced compassion, slowed his tired horse, hesitating as he tried to make out the figure by the roadside.


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    Cursed thing - why now? Time was slipping away like sand, that scent growing stronger. After one final sweep of his surroundings confirmed all other riders were ahead, he made his move.


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    Stolen novel; please report.


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    Retreat? Stellan''s thoughts froze to ice. After such humiliation, you expect me to simply leave?


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    Using the old man''s words against me? He spat bile, burning eyes fixed on Carl''s retreating form before yanking his reins to rejoin the withdrawal.