Alphonse was sitting on a block of stone just outside the village on the eastern bank of the Stonebridge, staring south towards Frykar’s Ford with glum thoughts as his only company. Time and again he thought he could hear the sound of fighting, but he knew that this was pure conjecture: it was possible that the battle between the Virannian invaders and the High King’s forces was raging already, but it would be too far away for the sound of it to reach him. He was effectively removed from all possibilities of battle heroics and earning himself a place among the Bogwarths.
A call of “Chief! Chief!” woke him from his ponderings and he turned his head in time to see Tyrgwa, one of the scouts, come careening down the road. She was panting as she pulled to a stop beside the stone, and as she came close the half-elf saw that her horse was covered in lather.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“They’re coming, Chief!”