"Ride forth and be a good knight."
Those had been his the boy final words to him ,the first light to shine where he only thought there would be shadows. And true to them, Vilon now stood.
In those five simple words, Vilon found his heart once more. The ghost of the white rooster from his father's banner bloomed in his head just as Owen rounded Chestnut's flank, clutching both the heavy tournament shield and the war lance in a single desperate arm, staggering slightly under the weight of them both.
He is a good lad, Vilon thought. May the Father Protector watch over him, now and always, whatever comes of this day.
Coarse, brutal laughter drifted up from the muddy bank below. The woman was still fighting, clawing at the eyes of the men dragging her down, her nails finding purchase enough to draw a shout of pain from one of them, but she didn't have much time left to fight with.
