The next morning, they began the descent into the valley below. The path wound its way down the hillside in a series of zigzags which were easy enough to follow on foot, but trickier on horseback. For this reason, the knights dismounted and led their horses down the trail, remounting when they reached the valley floor. The river here was little larger than a stream, far too small to have carved the deep valley it flowed through, yet the valley floor was flat and the track along it easy to follow. They were now only a day or two's travel from the border forts of the Empire, beyond which they would be in the Empire proper and out of this region of bandits and monsters.

That night, possibly, the guard was not as keen as it may have been up in the higher hills, or maybe the night was darker as the moon waned, but whatever the cause the orcs were almost upon them before the alarm was raised and there was little enough time for Sir Robert to buckle on his breastplate and grab sword and shield, to join battle with his arms and legs naked and his head unhelmed.

The action in the dark was brief, but bloody. Foul green faces, their jaws full of yellowed and rotting teeth, loomed at him as he stabbed around. Metal clashed on his shield and fingers plucked at him, yet his guard was not beaten. Sometimes he felt his sword bite home, yet normally he was swept aside by the combat before he knew if his blow was telling or otherwise. Suddenly, all was silent. The orcs had left as quickly as they had come, and the long job of taking stock of the damage done began.

As the first light of morning was brightening the eastern horizon over the woods of the Empire, the party was ready to set off again. Three knights had been slain in the midnight attack, and most were carrying some injury. Four of these were too badly injured to ride and would have to be carried down the mountain - a third of their strength had been removed in one blow, and another third was weakened. Among the dead were those on guard the previous night, who had been overwhelmed in the first rush of the attack.

The greatest blow, however, was the horses. The orcs had cut them free and, driven mad by the smell of the foul greenskins and the noise of battle all around, the pack horses and palfreys had fled. The Bretonnian warhorses had returned when the orcs departed, but the lighter horses were now probably filling orc stomachs.

Despite the loss of the horses, the Bretonnians still had most of their supplies and equipment as they had been unloaded for the night. The monks had to carry what they could of this, for the warhorses would become useless if heavily encumbered, and the rest was pilled together and burnt so that it may not fall into the hands of the orcs. Before this, a good meal was cooked for, with the reduced supplies, it would be short rations until they reached a border fort.

Following the morning meal, the party hurried on as quickly as possible. Yet now that haste was even more urgent, to get the wounded to proper treatment and to reach safety before the orcs could fall on them in greater numbers, they were slowed by the lack of pack animals. Sir Orin scanned the horizon before and behind constantly, and as night fell he announced that they would continue to push on in order to reach their destination faster, and to give the orcs less time to gather around them.

Morning found them in a widening valley, and with the first sight of a distant tower below them, still a full days march off if not further. The signs of pursuit were around them now, however. Goblin trackers had been sighted slipping through the undergrowth and the trees on the valley edge moved in ways that could not fully be explained by the wind. Sir Orin had been riding deep in thought for more than a few minutes when he seemed to come to a decision and called Sir Robert over.

"The orcs are travelling faster than us." he told Sir Robert. "They are cutting around us along the edges of the valley in order to get between us and that border post. Our only hope is to reach it by nightfall or we shall be overwhelmed and, much as I wish for a glorious death in battle, I would much rather fulfill my commission to bring these monks to safety and travel to the court at Altdorf.

"However, as I just said, the orcs are currently overtaking us. In fact, at the current rate, there is no way we will reach the tower before they cut us off. Therefore, we need to summon assistance from the tower. I have written a note to the commander of the garrison there, and you will ride ahead to take it too him. Don't think this is the easy option - the orcs will guess what you're about and they will try and stop you. I can't spare many, so it will be just yourself, Donal, Sir Tybold who you served alongside at La Maisontall, and his squire, Patrick.

"Here is the letter. Ride as fast as you can and ensure that it gets through at whatever cost - do not be afraid to retreat towards the tower, but you must break through the orc lines. May the Lady's blessing go with you."