A mighty battle-cry filled the air as the men surged forward. The air was filled with the sound of arrows slicing through the air from above, and the sound of those same arrows hitting shields. Metal lances clanked together. Maces produced an explosive sound as they were brought crashing down on metal shields. Within the first few seconds there were screams of agony and death cries.
“You!” Bathor kicked one of his men in the arse. “Take care of this.” He thrust Pan at the man. “Guard him with your life. I have a life of my own to take.
Pan felt his stomach begin to churn. He knew exactly what Bathor meant, knew what he intended to do. It was quite obvious to him, if not to the rest of those gathered, that only the death of one royal brother or the other would put an end to the fight for
