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The whistle of your Arrow can be heard above the rumbling hoofbeats of the approaching cavalry. It flies straight and true, tearing through the chainmail links that protect the leader’s throat. The sudden pain makes him snatch at his reins, and his horse falters, stumbles, and then falls. The wounded leader is flung forward over the horse’s head, and he crashes into the ground with a sickening crunch. With their leader slain, the morale of the other men is badly shaken. They break off their ambush, wheeling their horses about and galloping away in disorder.
‘Let us fly,’ shouts Paido, ‘before they regroup and strike again.’ You shoulder your Bow and follow Paido as he leaves the track and rides along the stream to the west.
