It was the evening of the next day, and the setting sun stained the clouds in a brilliant orange hue. Tim’s legs were leaden from the day's march. After their meeting with Arthur, they discovered that Huntsman had left with their supper and that he had sold their horses one of the quartermasters, pocketing all the money for himself. Tim then looked at the Divine Path behind them and suppressed a shudder. They had marched down it all day, and he still found it unsettling to look at. Marching down it had been almost hypnotic with how straight it was, and he’d almost fallen asleep as he walked more times than he cared to count.

“Set up camp and be quick about it,” Erwyn ordered as his eyes swept over their surroundings from atop his horse.

There was a small wood just to their northwest and a small town to the east. It was too small to accommodate an army of their size, but many of the men were disappointed that the order hadn’t been given to set up in and around it.

“Raise that banner high, would you, Erwyn?” Arthur asked with a grim smile. The prince was dressed for battle, looking resplendent in his gold plate armour. A dragon was etched into his breastplate, and his helmet was the shape of a snarling dragon’s head. “We want to let them know exactly where their prize is.”

“I think they’re in there,” Eric whispered nervously, pointing at the trees.

“Stop that, you might make them suspicious,” Tim hissed as he pushed Eric’s hand down.

They were positioned on the edge of the army closest to the woods, ostensibly so that the prince could give his men room to set up camp. A tempting target for any enemy who might be waiting for a chance to pounce. Tim made an effort not to look directly at the trees, instead keeping them in the periphery of his vision, fearing that a Hulvan soldier hiding in there might notice him.

“Here they come,” Arthur warned.

A ripple of nervous tension spread through the men immediately around the prince, and Erwyn hissed, “Remember the plan, ignore them until we give the signal! Carry on with your work!”

Tim’s pulse quickened as he saw horsemen emerge from the trees, led by the banner of Hulva, a white wall flanked by a pair of mountains on a dark green background. They advanced silently and quickly and once the bulk of them emerged from the trees, a horn sounded from among their ranks.

“Move into position!” Erwyn roared. “Form the lines, spears to the front, archers at the ready!”

Men began moving into position quickly. Tim looked around and spotted the tops of the massive North Men’s heads on the far side of the camp. Emily and the twelve other Sisters of the Spell, as those who could also wield her power were called, would be over with them. That too had been part of the plan. They were to be the Carthun’s trump card, used only if the situation looked dire, but preferably kept out of sight so they could be used to maximum effect in the attack on Estos.

“Slowly now!” Arthur cried. “Time it right. We don’t want them to lose their nerve!”

Erwyn climbed down from his horse and stood by the prince just behind the spearmen. Tim swallowed as he saw the breadth and depth of the line. There were close to two hundred men forming ranks around the prince, but their numbers seemed tiny in comparison to the onrushing Hulvans, and the line was only two men deep. More Carthun soldiers were rushing forward to extend the line, but they looked like they wouldn’t make it before the horses arrived.

“Remember this day men!” Arthur cried. “And hear my words well. Archava said that all who fight together in battle will forever be brothers, bound by the blood they spilt. From this day, all of you are counted my brothers, in this life, and the next!”

“Justice for the Betrayal!” Arthur roared.

“For the kingdom!” Erwyn cried.

“For the prince!” Tim bellowed with the others, swept up by the emotions of the men.

The horses were closing in rapidly. Let them come, Tim thought to himself. They would send them all to the Three to receive their reckoning and then return to Aroden triumphant and receive their thanks from a grateful kingdom.

“I’m afraid we’re going to get all the action.” Tim looked up to see Gareth getting into position in front of them. He angled the tip of his spear out towards the oncoming horsemen and drove the haft into the ground behind them.

“Maybe a few of us will be made lords like Old Horatio after this, eh?” Tim recognized the voice as Philip’s. He was the cheesemaker’s son who lived just down the road from the Frisky Goat and was a little weasel who wouldn’t hesitate to run crying to the grownups if he wasn’t included in their fun.

He then noticed that it was mostly the boys from Potter’s Hollow who were manning the pikes in front of them, and a feeling of dread washed over him, but it was swiftly washed away by his eagerness for battle.

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“We’ll show you how warriors fight,” Eric muttered under his breath.

“The only thing you’ll be shown is our arses as we deal with the Hulvan scum,” Gareth laughed. “Stand back and watch us work.”

The boy’s voice was lost in the cacophony of men shouting orders and curses as they got into position, and the thundering of hooves as the cavalry approached. Tim grinned to himself when he saw that the bulk of the Hulvans were heading for their position. The bait was working. Good, he thought. Let them come.

“Brace yourselves!” Erwyn cried as he lifted a war horn to his lips and played a long, low note as he raised the banner of House Dragos high with his other hand.

“Steady, brothers!” Arthur roared as he too held Emerald Flame high over his head.

“Archers, fire!” Erwyn cried.

The horsemen spread out as the arrows struck. A few fell, but most were protected by their thick armour. The Hulvans raised their lances and moments later, clashed with the first rank of spearman with a sickening crash. Horses whinnied and men screamed. A rider was launched off his horse as it impaled itself on a spear and landed at Arthur’s feet.

Arthur drove Emerald Flame through the prone man’s chest and frowned. “They’re losing momentum.”

“Men, fall back ten steps!” Erwyn ordered before letting off three quick blasts from his horn.

The rear ranks who had not yet engaged the enemy fell back easily, but the spearmen were caught off balance and many fell as they attempted to withdraw and were trampled by horses or cut down by their riders who were buoyed by the sight the retreat.

A pair of horsemen broke through the spears and charged straight for Arthur. Tim and Eric moved to block one of them off. Tim braced himself and deflected their rider’s sword while Eric lunged and grabbed him by the waist, tackling him off his horse. As they grappled on the ground, Eric pulled the man’s helmet back, exposing his neck. Tim wasted no time in driving the tip of his sword through their foe’s throat. He then turned around in time to see Arthur dart forward and cleave an armoured horseman in two at the waist as he rode past.

More riders approached as well as men who had been dismounted. The dismounted cavalry made quick work of the spearmen now that they were too close for the spears to be effective. In the distance, a pair of war horns sounded out. First one from the left, then another from the right.

“The wings have been deployed!” Erwyn roared as he drew his sword. Tim thought he looked majestic as he stood in the evening light with a banner in one hand and his weapon in the other. “Stand and fight! Help is coming soon!”

Arthur’s movements were like a blur as he cut down rider and foot soldier alike, however, the line of spears had completely crumbled, and the boys found themselves barely able to fend off the attacks of an increasing number of Hulvans. Their opponent’s armour was thick, and the boys’ swords were little better than bludgeons against it.

An armoured Hulvan soldier charged at Tim with his shoulder, knocking the boy to the ground. Tim struggled to get to his feet, but the man stepped on his chest, pinning him on the ground. The boy flailed desperately to free himself and saw that Eric was grappling with his own opponent nearby.

Tim looked up at his foe. He could only see the man’s eyes through the visor, and they were focused on him. He heard the man mutter, “Sorry about this, boy.”

Tim tried to wrench the man’s foot off his chest, but it was no use. The man raised his great sword to deliver the finishing blow. Just as the man’s sword was about to descend, his head exploded in a red mist as an enormous war maul was brought down on it. The second blow was a horizontal one and landed in the man’s midsection, sending still standing corpse flying into Eric’s foe.

Tim looked up to see a mountain of a man towering over him. A youthful face looked down at him and grinned. “So you survived, little man. That is good.”

Eric helped Tim to his feet and the pair watched the giant North Man wade into the Hulvan ranks. He towered over his foes and crushed two or three with every swing of his enormous war maul. They looked around and saw that he was the only giant in the area.

"What’s that fool doing over here?” Tim heard Erwyn ask.

“Lord Carver warned us that they’re a stubborn bunch,” Arthur replied.

Another horn rang out over the battlefield. The Hulvans paused momentarily. Then, incredibly, they began to withdraw.

“It appears that Lord Carver is in position,” Erwyn remarked as the Hulvan withdrawal was quickly turned into a rout, pursued by the enormous North Man. Their armour was as effective as paper in the face of his enormous strength, and their weapons were useless against his armour which was so thick and heavy that it would be impossible for a normal man to wear.

“After them!” Arthur roared. “Do not let them escape!”

“Come on Tim,” Eric urged.

Tim was about to run after the prince when he heard a familiar voice. “Help me, please.”

The voice was faint. Tim looked down and was stunned when he realized for the first time that the ground around them was littered with bodies of the dead and the dying. He then saw Gareth, lying under the body of an armoured horseman.

“Help…” he gasped.

Tim rushed over and pushed the Hulvan off him. His heart sank when he saw that his friend was missing an arm. Then he saw the deep gouge in his chest.

“Gareth, are you alright?” Tim asked as he rushed to his friend’s side, feeling foolish as soon he had finished his sentence.

He cradled the freckled boy’s head in his arms., not knowing what else he could do. He was sure his friend had left Potter’s Hollow with dreams of glory. Now, he lay broken and dying in a foreign land.

“Tim,” the boy gasped as he struggled to focus his eyes. “Tim, is that you?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Tim replied, not knowing what he should do. Carthun soldiers were streaming forward all around him, drunk on their impending victory.

“I’m scared, Tim,” Gareth sobbed with tears in his eyes.

“It’s alright,” Tim said, trying to keep a brave face. “The apothecary will be here soon. He’ll see to it that you’re mended.”

“It’s cold…” Gareth managed as his breath grew ragged. “Mummy.”

Tim held his friend’s head in his arms until he drew his last breath. His eyes looked at the sky and Tim wondered if he saw the Three welcoming him to Their realm as he died. Men were shouting jubilantly around him, but Tim didn’t hear what they were saying. All of a sudden, the battle had lost its lustre.

“Three take you into Their keeping,” was all Tim could think to say.

“Ah Tim, there you are.”

Tim looked up to see Eric beaming jubilantly. “Where were you? I got two more while they were running, the cowards.”

Tim looked up at his friend blankly. His words sounded like they were in a foreign language. Eric then saw Gareth lying in Tim’s arms and his smile vanished.