Something was terribly wrong.
Riftan clenched his teeth as he galloped through the pouring rain, pushing away the ominous premonitions that kept flooding his mind. This was no time for distractions. His grip tightened on his sword hilt as he urged Talon on.
Beyond the sheets of rain, a green giant clad in crude iron armor effortlessly flung aside a row of spearmen with a spiked iron club. The battle line was quickly collapsing.
With a sharp whistle, Riftan signaled to the knights riding behind him. Soon, the long blast of a kopel rang through the air, and the spear unit dispersed left and right.
Clutching his reins, Riftan galloped toward the frontline. The air was thick with the scent of blood. Talon snorted angrily and reared up, his muscular hind legs lifting them high. Now at chest level with the giant, Riftan swung his sword, decapitating the troll. Its pumpkin-sized head flew through the air, and a fountain of dark blood spurted from its severed neck.