Edmund watched the approaching horse intently. His heart was hammering a wild, frantic rhythm against his ribs, but a thin, tight smile crept across his lips, the grim, brittle grin of a condemned man who has already looked upon the gallows and found the sunshine surprisingly pleasant.
At first, only a lone rider surged out, peeling away from the iron wall of the enemy vanguard as if hooked on a line. Edmund could not tell if it was some lordling hot for renown or a sellsword smelling silver on a corpse.
Does it matter? Edmund thought, the smile widening into something wolfish. One fool is all it takes to ruin an army.
The horseman charged out into the open meadow, his steel plate catching the fierce midday sun, his destrier throwing up thick clods of wet earth, waiting ahead of them was barely a fewe score on horses, an easy victory by all perceptions.
