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Tarkyn sat in the fork of a tree near the eastern end of the valley, wearing his green beautifully crafted surcoat, emblazoned with his coat of arms. Waterstone and Midnight sat on either side of him, beneath his eagle perched on the bough above, watching as Kosar’s army topped the rise and advanced into the Valley of the Dry Mile.
The king cut a fine figure, riding at the head of his troops on a black charger, his standard waving and slapping above him in the stiff breeze. He was dressed in the same blue with red trim as his soldiers, but wore a broad sash of deeper blue across his chest, emblazoned in silver with his coat of arms. His wizard and senior officers rode one horse length behind him, but as he realised that his brother’s army had not yet arrived, he allowed them to draw a
